med to Paul more like the
snarling of an angry domestic cat, several times magnified.

For the life of him he could not imagine what a cat would be doing here
in the heart of the dreaded Black Water Swamps. Surely no hermit could
be living in such a dismal and inaccessible place; even a crazy man
would never dream of passing over such a terribly slippery ledge in
order to get to and from his lonely habitation.

But if not a cat, what was making that angry snarling?

Paul knew next to nothing about balloons, but he felt pretty sure that
even the escaping of gas could hardly produce such a sound--it might
pass through a rent in the silk with a sharp hiss, but he could plainly
catch something more than that.

And then his foot struck solid ground; with a sigh of relief he drew
himself up, and turned to give a hand to Seth, next in line, if it was
needed.

So they all came ashore, so to speak, and delighted to feel able to
stand in a comfortable position once more.

No time now for stretching or dancing, with that ugly snarling growing
constantly deeper, and more angry in volume. Forward was the word, and
Paul somehow felt glad that they gripped those handy staves, tried and
true, with which every scout in course of time becomes quite adept. They
would come in good play should there be any necessity for prompt action.

"Follow me, everybody," said Paul, as he started off.

"Count on us to back you up!" Seth declared, from which remark the
scoutmaster understood that by now the others must have caught those
suspicious sounds, and were trying to figure out what they stood for.

It seemed as if with every forward step he took, Paul could catch them
more and more plainly. Nor was the snarling sound alone; now he believed
he caught a rustling of dead leaves, and something that might be likened
to low muttered words, as though the speaker were being hard pressed,
and had little breath to spare.

Then, as he pushed through the last fringe of bushes that interfered
with his view, Paul found himself looking upon the cause of all these
queer noises.

CHAPTER XIV

JUST IN THE NICK OF TIME

"Holy smoke! look at that, would you?" exclaimed Seth, who had been so
close on the heels of the scoutmaster that he sighted the struggling
objects ahead almost as soon as Paul did himself.

"It's a big wildcat!" echoed Jotham, with a suspicious tremor in his
voice.

Indeed, the animal in question was a sight well calculat