Time passed, and he believed the storm was really diminishing in fury. It
was certainly time, for from the various crashes Jerry believed
considerable timber must have gone to the ground.
How thankful he should be to have escaped as well as he had. Why, the
mere fact that he was lost did not cut any figure in the matter when so
many more terrible things might have happened to him.
There was really no sense of him leaving his snug retreat until dawn
came, for he could not make his way in the storm-wrecked timber with any
hope of success.
Again he poked his way out to take an observation. Perhaps he was
wondering if his shot could have killed the bear; but no sign of such
met his strained eyesight when the next flash of lightning came.
But while he was thus trying to pierce the gloom around him, he heard
a sound that thrilled him through and through--the sound of a human
voice calling.
"Help, oh! help!" it came wailing through the night.
CHAPTER XVI
HEAPING COALS OF FIRE ON HIS HEAD
"What's that?" exclaimed Jerry, startled by the cry.
It came again.
"Help! Oh! help, somebody!"
The boy was now convinced that he had not heard the hoot of an owl, and
that some one was certainly in need of succor.
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