. St. Nicholas [serial]. ath he began feelingnervous. It was not pleasant to be alone in thewoods at night, even if the moon was in the skyto guide him. He paused twice, almost ready toturn back, but he succeeded in shaking off thefear that gripped him and went on. Finally the shack loomed up ahead, standingdark and gloomy in a clearing which was filledwith tall grass and weeds. He made his way tothe door and rapped, but the sound echoed hollowthrough the rickety building. Wheres Art? he asked himself, and stood there several minutes, but finally mus-tered enough courage to push th
. St. Nicholas [serial]. ath he began feelingnervous. It was not pleasant to be alone in thewoods at night, even if the moon was in the skyto guide him. He paused twice, almost ready toturn back, but he succeeded in shaking off thefear that gripped him and went on. Finally the shack loomed up ahead, standingdark and gloomy in a clearing which was filledwith tall grass and weeds. He made his way tothe door and rapped, but the sound echoed hollowthrough the rickety building. Wheres Art? he asked himself, and stood there several minutes, but finally mus-tered enough courage to push the door struggling through a dirty window-glass revealed a table and a stool, but no sign ofthe lost Arthur Pengate. Williams shadow darted across the floor andup the wall to the ceiling. He trembled. Where can Art be? he shivered. It does ntlook as if he had been here at all. What if hesreally lost? Suppose tramps have kidnapped shall I do? I m to blame for it all. THE ENTERPRISING ENTERPRISE 1099. EDITOR BRADLEY LOST ALL EDITORIAL DIGNITY (SEE NEXT PAGE) Art! he called, and his voice echoed throughthe shack, coming back to him in a sound likemocking laughter. He went back to the door,intent on fleeing homeward, but a weird, bayingsound from the woods made him pause, while hisred hair stood up. Whats that? he asked himself, and the soundwas repeated, closer this time. The blood - hound! William Reeds father was going to put the dogon Arts trail—and he 11 find my trail, too. What if he is coming to the shack? He 11 tear me topieces! He looked through the window, and a big shapeon four legs loomed up near at hand in the clear-ing. It was brown or a deep yellow, William couldnot tell which, and did not care greatly. Yes, its the blood-hound! he groaned. Ifthe searching-party finds me here, they 11 dis-cover how Art got lost; and if they dont come,the dog will get in here and eat me alive! As William watched, the animal lifted its head, 11
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