CHAPTER VII.
Joe felt the heavy lethargy rise from him like the removal of a blanket; his eyes became clear, and he saw the trees and the forest gloom; slowly he realized his actual position.
He was a prisoner, lying helpless among his sleeping captors.
Silvertip and the guard had fled into the woods, frightened by the appalling moan which they believed sounded their death-knell.

And Joe believed he might have fled himself had he been free.

What could have caused that sound?
He fought off the numbing chill that once again began to creep over him.

He was wide-awake now; his head was clear, and he resolved to retain his senses.

He told himself there could be nothing supernatural in that wind, or wail, or whatever it was, which had risen murmuring from out the forest-depths.
Yet, despite his reasoning, Joe could not allay his fears.