at can that sound be?" suddenly remarked Lub, who had been listening
more or less apprehensively for some little time now; "seems like some
one might be sawing a hole through the wall. Course, though, I don't
believe that for a minute; but all the same it's a queer noise. There,
don't you hear it?"

There did come a distinct little "rat-tat-tat," several times repeated.
No one who was not deaf could have helped hearing such a distinct sound;
but Lub could not see that any of his mates seemed bothered.

"May be that old gray squirrel gnawing somewhere," suggested X-Ray;
"they've got long teeth like a rat, and can chew a hole through any sort
of board."

"Now, I'd rather believe it was the wind," said Ethan, who had a pretty
good knowledge of woodcraft in all its branches, and was therefore well
fitted to give an opinion.

"Why, how could the night wind make that sort of scratching sound?"
asked Lub, doubtless wondering whether the other were simply guying him
because of his being a greenhorn.

"Oh! the broken end of a branch might be rubbing against the roof of the
cabin," Ethan told him. "I've known that to happen lots of times. There
she hits up the tune again, you notice, Lub."

"Yes," added Phil, nodding his head approvingly, "and if you listen,
every time that scratching sound comes you can hear the wind soughing
through the tree-tops. That ought to prove it."

Still Lub seemed hard to convince, seeing which Ethan jumped up.

"Just stir your stumps, Lub, and come outside with me," he said,
positively. "I want to prove what I said, and you've got to be shown."

Lub saw there was no getting around it, and much as he disliked making a
move when he was settled so comfortably, he managed to scramble to his
feet.

Once out in the bright moonlight and practical Ethan was quick to
discover the source of the peculiar and often recurring noise.

"You see, Lub," he went on to say, "there's your saw at work right now.
Just as I told you it's a branch that's been worn off to a stub by this
scraping. Every time there's a fresh gust of wind it waves back and
forth, and scraping against the roof makes that funny sound. Now, I hope
your mind's easy, Lub, and that you'll sleep decent to-night."

"I hope I will," replied Lub, earnestly, at the same time remembering
about the bunks, and what one of the others had said with regard to
house-cleaning in the morning; "but say, it is a fine night, ain't it,
Ethan. Listen to th