Thad was already hastily inserting a fresh shell in the left chamber of his little shotgun. He felt fully satisfied that he had done just what Step Hen so vociferously proclaimed, knocked over one of the skulking wolves; but there were more of the same breed around, and presently they would get over the temporary fright caused by the flash of fire, together with the heavy crash, when possibly they might show themselves bolder than ever.
And like a true Boy Scout, Thad Brewster believed in always being prepared. He had really taken that for his motto long before he thought of joining a troop of the scouts; so that much of what he agreed to do when signing the muster roll, lay directly in a line with his own ideas of what a wide-awake boy should be.
“They backed off after that hot reception, Thad,” Step Hen went on. “Oh! I hope I’ll get a chance to pop over just one of the sneaky beasts. I’d like to say I’d shot a real wolf. Think of me, Step Hen Bingham, who up to a year ago had never gone off camping or hunting, with a bear to my credit, a buck actually knocked over, even if it was stole away from me; and now, as the crowning event of all, I want to get a savage wolf, a real Canada wolf.”
“Oh!” said Thad, laughingly; “I don’t know that they’re different from any other kind they have out on the plains; though perhaps they may be a little larger, and ready to attack a man quicker. But perhaps you’d better take the next good chance then, Step Hen.”
“May I, Thad? That’s kind of you. Suppose you give me pointers, then, and tell me just when to blaze away. I want to make a dead sure thing of it.”
“Of the wolf, you mean, I guess,” Thad went on, keeping a bright lookout while he talked. “Well, watch that place where I got my fellow, and I think you’ll soon see something moving.”
“You must mean the rest will be wanting to make a supper off the critter you killed; is that it, Thad? Are they such cannibals as all that?” asked Step Hen.
“Always said to be,” the patrol leader returned, and then quickly added. “Keep on the lookout, and if you see anything moving, tell me. Above all don’t waste ammunition by firing recklessly. We’re not trying to scare ’em off by noise; every shot ought to count for a wolf.”
They lapsed into silence for some little time, during which both boys used their eyes to the best advantage. Several times Step Hen’s eagerness caused him to imagine he had caught a glimpse of a moving object; but upon calling the attention of his more experienced comrade to the spot, in every instance Thad had pronounced it a false alarm.
But in the end there came a time when Thad himself saw something move, and as he watched more closely he made positive that it was another wolf creeping up in the direction of the spot where his first victim probably lay.
“Are you all ready, Step Hen?” he asked, quietly.
“Just try me, that’s all,” came the whispered reply, as the other scout clutched his rifle nervously, and strained his eyes to see what had caught the attention of his chum.
“Then watch that spot where my game kicked the bucket; one of his mates is right now coming to drag the body away, to give it a wolf burial. See him, Step Hen?”
“Yes, yes, and be sure and tell me just when to let him have it, Thad,” replied the other, beginning to cover the indistinct moving figure with his ready gun.
“Now, hold on for a bit,” Thad cautioned. “I’m going to give the fire here a kick that will make it spring up. Then, when you can be sure you’re getting a bead on the slinker, give him Hail Columbia. Watch out, now, old fellow. It’s going to be your only chance to bag a genuine wolf from the Canada bush.”
Just as Thad had said, the fire burned briskly after he had used the toe of his boot to give it new life; and sure enough, Step Hen could see the outlines of a long, dim figure that seemed to be hugging the ground. He could even catch the odd gleam of the wicked yellow eyes that were doubtless watching their every movement.
With the sharp report of his rifle there was another howl, this time of pain.
“Did I get him, Thad?” cried the marksman, eagerly.
“You hit him, that’s certain, because I saw him flop over,” replied the other; “and that yelp meant sudden pain, as sure as it stood for anything. But he managed to get off, though possibly he will fall within twenty feet.”
“Oh! that’s too bad, because his chums’ll chew him all up, and I’ll never have my nice wolf-skin to get a coat made out of for winter,” exclaimed Step Hen; and then, as he was seized by a new thought, he went on: “But Thad, suppose I took a torch and went out there, d’ye think I’d be apt to find him lying on his back? I’d like the worst kind to get hold of him before the rest of the bunch muster up courage enough to come back.”
“Well, since you haven’t even a load in your gun, that would be too risky a game for you to play, Step Hen, and just for an old wolf-skin at that. Perhaps we’ve given ’em such a bad scare now that the rest of the pack may skip out, and leave us in peace. Then in the morning you’d find your chap, all right.”
“Listen! there’s something crashing through the bushes right back of us, Thad!” exclaimed Step Hen, a minute later, though his companion knew it before he spoke. “Sounds like an elephant might be coming down on us; but they don’t have such animals up here in the Maine woods, do they? Just hear the racket he keeps making Thad; whatever do you suppose we’re up against now?”
Thad laughed.
“That’s a two-legged elephant, then, Step Hen,” he remarked. “Fact is, we’re going to have company, for that’s a man pushing through the brush, and making all the noise he can, so as to scare the wolves away, and at the same time keep us from firing on him.” Then raising his voice, Thad called out: “Hello, there!”
“Thet you, Thad?” came an answering call.
“Hurrah! it’s Old Eli!” exclaimed Step Hen, readily recognizing the voice of the guide. “This way, Eli; we’re having a healthy old time knocking over some of your Canada wolves. Each got one so far, but I reckon the rest of the pack must a lit out when they heard you coming. I see you now, Eli; and mighty glad you dropped in on us. Where did you spring from anyway; don’t tell me we’re as near the camp as that.”
Eli came up, with a wide grin on his face.
“Oh! camp about mile and a half down lake,” he remarked, as he gravely shook hands with each hunter in turn. “We saw light of fire over point, and think it might be you boys; so I paddled canoe across here. It ain’t jest five minits walk ’cross this strip ter the lake. So ye got sum o’ the critters, did ye?”
“Thad, can’t we look up that one I shot now; I’d just hate to lose him, you know?” begged Step Hen.
“Why, I suppose it would be safe for all of us to go out,” returned the patrol leader. “Here, pick up something that will burn, and come along.”
They found Thad’s victim without any trouble, but the second one was not within range of the light from their torches. But poor anxious Step Hen begged so piteously to be allowed to extend the search “just a little further,” that Thad did not have the heart to say no. And a minute later, after they had gone forward twice as far as Thad had at first intended, Step Hen gave a gurgling cry.
“Looky there, Thad, what’s that thing lying over yonder? Seems to me mighty like a dead one. Yes, sir, that’s what it is, as sure as I’m Step Hen Bingham. Oh! how terrible he looks, even when stretched out there, and gone up the flue. My wolf, too. What a fine coat he’s got, and as gray as they make ’em. Say, won’t I just cut a swell when I wear that out in a sleigh with Sue Baker; and every time she rubs the sleeve she’ll say: ‘And just to think that you shot this savage old wolf all by yourself, Step Hen; oh! what a brave fellow you are!’”
It was a second dead wolf, sure enough. The little repeating rifle had, as usual, given a good account of itself, and the stricken beast had only been able to drag himself a little distance away, before giving up.
Both animals were dragged over to the fires, and then Eli set to work taking off the skins with a rapidity that told of long experience along the trapping line.
“No use aluggin’ these critters over ter the canoe, and then ter camp,” Eli had announced. “Ther two skins’ll make a purty good coat, I guess naow. An’ so ye gut a pack o’ prime venison to tote home as well, hev ye? Thet’s good. My mouth’s jes’ made up fur a steak; an’ the boys’ll feel tickled ter death when they sees yer.”
Step Hen was a little nervous at leaving the fire zone, especially since Eli and Thad insisted on putting out every spark before departing, according to the law of the State; but then he managed to carry one torch, and with that to serve them, they took up their line of march.
It was not so very far to the edge of the lake. Thad laughed, and said the joke was on him; because, when they halted he really believed they were a couple of miles away from water. If he had known the shore was so near by he would have managed to coax the tired Step Hen to trudge on just a little further, so as to camp with the water covering one side, and bringing that much security; not to speak of the chances for signaling to the home camp by means of the code which he and Allan, as Boy Scouts, understood.
But it was all right now, and Step Hen felt quite merry over the chance of being taken comfortably to the camp by means of the canoe.
Eli did the paddling, and the two weary lads just snuggled down in the boat, feeling that they had had a great day of it, all told. The presence of the venison, as well as the wolf-skins, would be positive proof as to the reliability of their astonishing story; should there be any skeptic around. And then Thad had the wonderful mushroomed bullet that had killed that six-pronged buck; so that as they narrated the first adventure that had come their way, they could produce evidence to back up the story.
Their coming was greeted by more or less enthusiasm, although the boys had evidently been coached by Allan not to be too vociferous, as they were in a country where timid game abounded, and it was poor policy to frighten away the quarry they had come so far to secure.
Step Hen forgot all his weariness as he found himself being shaken by the hand again and again, while he and Thad told the tale of their day’s outing. It was nice to play the hero part once in a while, and more than ever did Step Hen feel that life had become more worth living than ever, since he joined the Cranford troop of Boy Scouts. But for that he would never have discovered what splendid things there were to be met with in the great forests; and the spirit of the hunter and the fisherman, which had lain dormant in his nature, might never have been awakened.
And while the hour was rather late, all of the boys insisted on tasting a small piece of the deer meat brought in by the two successful Nimrods.
“Say, this is the greatest venison I ever tasted!” declared Bumpus, after he had disposed of his share, and sighed to think that the rules of the game debarred him from having a second piece; because they had had a bumper supper only a few hours before.
“Just dandy!” added Giraffe, who was in the same class as his fat campmate, and would have been only too glad for an invitation to “cut, and come again.”
“Oh!” exclaimed Step Hen, suddenly, “I reckon we’ve got to congratulate you, Giraffe.”
“Me? Er, what d’ye mean, Step Hen?” replied the tall scout, at the same time beginning to look a trifle confused.
“Why, you know you told us we’d be surprised when we got back,” the other went on to say, a little maliciously; “and I reckon you’ve gone and done it at last; and now you’re ready to show us just how easy it works.”
Bumpus could not refrain for the life of him from giving a sarcastic chuckle, which of course added to the evident embarrassment of Giraffe; who, however assumed a serious air upon making his reply.
“Well,–er–not exactly, Step Hen. I’ve got her figgered out all right, in my mind, so that in the morning I c’n go ahead, and work out the details. I calculate a short half hour ought to see me wind up in just a blaze of glory. But just yet it’s a toss-up who the ice-cream’s going to be on, Bumpus or me.”
“Oh! I ain’t worrying even a little mite,” asserted the confident Bumpus.
“Well, you wait and see!” declared Giraffe, defiantly. “You don’t all know what I’ve got up my sleeve. The feller that laughs last laughs loudest, they say. And I give you all fair warning that’s going to be me.”
Meanwhile Thad managed to get in close touch with Jim Hasty. When the others were joking, and having a merry time, he was wondering how the guide’s little affair had been working out.
Many hours had passed since he had seen Jim, and he wondered whether the latter could have had any further communication from Old Cale, or even run across the father of his wife in the pine woods.
Jim was looking a little more serious than ever; but so far as Thad could discover there was nothing about him to indicate that he had been in violent collision with an enemy. And there were both his ears in their proper places; which fact might be taken as positive proof that the giant poacher had at least so far not attempted to carry out his terrible threat.
Jim seemed to know what was passing through the boy’s mind; for he smiled faintly, and shook his head in the negative.
“Nothing new happened, then, Jim?” questioned the patrol leader.
“Naw. I hain’t been far from camp the hull blessed day; an’ consequently never had no chanct tew run up against Pa Martin,” replied the other. “But I’m more sot than ever tew see him face tew face, afore I quits this here region. It’s jest gut tew be done, else I wudn’t hev ther nerve tew face Little Lina agin. She made me promise; an’ by thunder! nawthin’ hain’t agoin’ tew skeer me off. If he doan’t hunt me out, by ding! I’ll take a turn at hit, an’ find Cale Martin myself, ef so be I gotter tramp all the way tew his shack, wich I knows on’y tew well.”
“Good for you, Jim!” said Thad, admiringly; “but I suppose you understand what risk you’re taking in trying that game? From all I’ve heard about Cale Martin, he’s surely a terror; and then the threat he made about your ears would be enough to scare most men away.”
Jim drew a long breath as he answered this.
“Lot’s o’ people doan’t know Ole Cale like I does. He hain’t so black nor they jes’ paints him. Them game wardens is afeerd o’ him, and they piles all kinds o’ things on his shoulders thet he hain’t no business to kerry.”
“Yes, I’ve heard before about giving a dog a bad name, and then he has to bear the sins of the whole neighborhood,” remarked Thad. “There is never a sheep killed but that Dog Tray is the guilty one. And so you think Cale isn’t altogether so bad as we’ve heard?”
“He’s a big man, and he’s gut an’ orful temper; but it’s them tew critters he goes with thet’s the wust cases. They jest draw him inter slick games, Cale, he’d never think o’ tryin’, left by hisself. But we heerd as haow he’s struck a new thing, if so be he on’y knows enuff ter keep it agoin’, an’ shakes them other fellers. An’ if anybody kin make a success o’ fox raisin’, I jest guess Cale is ther man, ’cause he knows all erbout the slick little varmints from A ter Z.”
“Fox raising?” exclaimed Thad, at once deeply interested. “Tell me about that, Jim. Seems like it ought to be worth while listening to.”
“Why,” said Jim, apparently only too well pleased to say something in favor of the big and reckless parent of his little wife; “yer see, thar’s a company as hes been formed away daown in Bosting, tew raise foxes o’ all kinds, jest tew git the pelts. I s’pose yew knows as haow them skins air agittin’ more valerable every blessed year. More people tew wear furs, an’ less animals tew give ’em. Why, thar was twelve hundred dollars paid fur a black fox pelt jest last Spring; an’ I seen the check with my own eyes.”
“Yes,” Thad went on, deeply interested. “I’ve understood that tremendous prices were being paid out for that scarce skin; but is Cale meaning to try and raise black or silver foxes for the market? I was told by several people that they considered the silver fox only a freak, and that they would never breed true to species. How about that, Jim?”
“I’ve allers hed an ijee thet way myself,” returned the short guide, scratching his head in a reflective manner; “but Cale, he thinks the other way; an’ Cale, he sure knows more about foxes in a day than I wud in a year. Wall, we done heard as haow he hed made a contrack with this company fur a number o’ years, tew act as manager o’ ther farm. It’s in another part o’ ther State; an’ when Cale, he leaves here arter a leetle while, he never ’spects tew come back again. Wouldn’t be surprised naow if he hed a few foxes over tew ther old shack as he means tew kerry away with him when he quits up here.”
“But do you suppose he’ll stick to those two tough characters, and keep them with him in his new job? Won’ they queer his game with the company, Jim?”
“Wall, I doan’t know, of course, what his plans be, but Cale, he’s a great feller tew keep his word; an’ if so be he’s told this company as he’ll run things straight jest believe me they ain’t agoin’ tew be no place for them two poachers around his fox farm. He’d run ’em off with his gun mighty quick. Yes, Cale keeps his word; an’ thet’s what makes me a leetle bit shy ’bout bein’ able tew convince him tew leave my ears whar they belongs. But Lina, bless her, sez as haow he jest cain’t hold aout, when he hears what I gotter tell him; an’ Lina, she orter know.”
Thad admired the man more than ever. Just because of his faith in Lina, here was Jim ready to put his head in the lion’s mouth, so to speak. Thad suspected that he might be carrying some very important intelligence to the bearded giant of the pine woods; but whatever it was, Jim did not take the trouble to enlighten him; and Thad did not really think he had any business to ask.
After that Jim seemed to lapse into silence, and seeing that he did not appear anxious to continue the talk along lines that concerned his personal matters, the scoutmaster turned to the others again.
The hour was now getting rather late, and while those who had remained in camp during much of the day might not be unusually tired, Step Hen gave signs of falling asleep by the fire. Several times his head gave a lurch to one side, so that presently Giraffe caught him roughly by the arm.
“See here, d’ye want to take a header square into the blaze, Step Hen?” he demanded, as the other opened his eyes, and looked sleepily at him. “I like fires as well as anybody, but excuse me from getting roasted in one. Don’t you think he ought to be sent to bed, Mr. Scoutmaster? He’s so logy right now, that the chances are ten to one he’ll climb in, and wrap the blanket around his head instead of his feet. Seems like you’ll have to appoint a dry-nurse to look after the poor baby, or else he may freeze to death in the night.”
But Step Hen did not wait for any permission to retire. He just crept away, and vanished under the folds of the second tent, which he shared with Thad and Davy Jones.
Indeed, the others were that sleepy they declared they would not be long in following his example. Thad himself was the first to get up and stretch.
“It’s late, fellows, and we ought to be turning in, if we want to be good for anything to-morrow. And remember, that if this sort of thing keeps up, we’re going to change the programme, and let every scout have a share in keeping sentry duty, working in couples. It doesn’t seem exactly fair that when Eli and Jim have to work all day with the paddles, or in any other way, they ought to spend half the night standing guard. Hello! there’s Eli right now, coming in on the trot, as if he had some news for us. What’s up, Eli?”
The old guide had been down to the shore of the lake to take a look at the canoes; and he was plainly bringing some sort of news, if they could judge from his hasty steps; and the look of concern on his dark face.
“Canoe comin’ along daown yonder; mout be Cale’s agoin’ ter pay us a visit,” he remarked; and his words aroused the sleepy boys as thoroughly as though they had been ducked with a bucket of ice-water.
They all hastened to step off toward the shore. Bumpus even picked up his gun, possibly under the belief that there might be a speck of war on the horizon. Jim looked a trifle uneasy, but there was a grimness in the way he shut his jaws together that told of his set purpose to face the music somehow or other, before leaving this country of the Eagle Lakes.
“There it comes!” announced Giraffe, in a half whisper, as he pointed to the left.
They could soon all make out the dim, shadowy canoe that was stealing along, some little distance from the shore, and evidently bent on passing the camp.
“I kin jest make out two fellers in her,” said Eli, who had sharp eyes.
“I reckon one of them must be Old Cale, then; he seems to be shadin’ his eyes with his hand, alookin’ toward our fire, and us astandin’ here,” Giraffe went on to say, though no one could be really positive, because the light was so poor.
The canoe passed by in this spectral fashion. There was no hail from those who sat in the boat, one using the paddle with the usual dexterity of a Maine guide; and of course none of the scouts thought of calling out, knowing who and what the voyagers were.
“I suppose that was Old Cale in the bow?” remarked Thad, after the canoe had faded away.
“An’ he was alookin’ fur me, I kinder guess,” said Jim, mournfully; at the same time, as if mechanically raising a hand to feel of his ears.
It was about four o’clock on the following afternoon when the three canoes containing the boys of the Silver Fox Patrol, accompanied by their two guides, drew up once more on the lake shore, and preparations for going into camp were hastily commenced, since night would soon be upon them.
Jim had selected this site for their last camp on this lake. When they left it, they intended going through the rest of the chain, and then seeking the railroad, with the idea of starting homeward again.
And Thad wondered whether, in picking out this camp, Jim might not have had an eye to his own affairs. Perhaps it was not many miles away from the shack of Cale Martin, the man who had been logger, trapper, guide, and was now about to turn his superior knowledge concerning foxes into a profitable channel, and raise them for their valuable furs.
Thad hoped that for the sake of Jim’s peace of mind he might carry out his plan before they broke camp here. And secretly he was determined that, should the guide decide to take a chance at finding Old Cale at home, he would not be averse to accompanying Jim across country to the place where Little Lina used to live, before she ran away with Jim.
Despite his positive conviction that he was really on the eve of succeeding with his fire-making, by the aid of his little bow, and the twirling stick, Giraffe had failed to accomplish what he expected that morning. Why, he hardly ate any breakfast, so engrossed had he been in his “fiddling” as Bumpus contemptuously called it, whenever he saw the tall scout working that clumsy little bow. But as usual, some little thing went wrong that spoiled the whole combination; and of course fire did not reward the hard labor Giraffe put in.
He looked so bitterly disappointed that even Bumpus did not have the heart to taunt him; though as a rule the fat boy could be depended on to do his share of such.
But then, it had been arranged that Giraffe and Bumpus were to go out on a hunt on the following day, all by themselves, and without even a guide along. Giraffe had boasted so often now, that he felt himself fully competent to look after himself when adrift in the woods, that Thad thought it might be a good thing to give him the chance. And there was Bumpus, eager to make use of his new gun; nothing would please him better than to accompany the tall scout.
Of course neither Thad, nor any one else for that matter, ever suspected that they would bag any game, unless it might be a few half-tame partridges, that would sit on a limb, and wait to be knocked over. Indeed, Thad was of the opinion that in the end the two bold Nimrods might even get lost, and have to be searched for.
But then, they would unquestionably leave a plain trail that the guides could pick up without great trouble; and the experience would be worth much to both Giraffe and Bumpus. They were really getting too “scrappy” in their dealings with each other; and a little spice, such as must accompany losing themselves in the woods, and being dependent on each other entirely, might draw them together, Thad thought, and make them appreciate each other more.
As they sat around the blaze that night, after they had partaken of a generous supper, Thad purposely led the conversation to the subject of fires in the woods. Allan had told of some experiences he met with some years back, and of course both guides were able to supplement this with stirring yarns that thrilled the blood of the young listeners.
“And I reckon, now, Eli?” Thad went on, after the guide had finished what he had to tell; “that you never saw the pine woods in better condition for a fire than they are right now?”
“Thet air a fact,” replied the other, emphatically. “Dry as tinder, an’ ef we doan’t git sum snow mighty soon, I guess as haow ther’ll be thousands o’ acres o’ vallerable land burned over afore Thanksgivin’ time.”
“Yeou must a seen sum lands thet hed be’n burned, on ther way up on ther train,” interjected Jim, breaking his long silence; “an’ yeou kin understan’ jest how lonesum they ’pears like, with ther tall pines astandin’ thar like flagpoles, black, and withaout ary limb; er else alayin’ in windrows on ther ground. Allers makes me feel bad tew see sech things.”
“And the game deserts a burned tract, too,” declared Allan.
“It sure dew,” Jim went on, with a shake of the head. “Yew never seen a more desolate region than sech a burned territory. Everybody moves aout quick as they can; fact is, most on ’em hes gut ther houses burned, an’ doan’t hev ter kerry much away with ’em. I hopes as haow it’ll snow er rain right soon, so’s tew save miles an’ miles o’ woodland.”
“And the fire wardens have their work cut out for them at this season of the year, you can easily believe,” observed Allan.
“Wonder now if we’ll see a real genuine forest fire while we’re up here,” remarked Giraffe, with considerable interest. “My! but she must look great to see them pines aflamin’ up like big torches. Now, you needn’t give me that look, Thad, because I haven’t forgot my promise, an’ I ain’t acarryin’ a single match along with me day after day. But if somebody else sets fire to the woods, I have as good a right to look as the next one, ain’t I?”
“Of course you have, Giraffe,” replied the scoutmaster, relieved, because this overpowering passion on the part of the tall boy had given him many anxious minutes since coming into Maine.
“Lots of these fires come after the loggers have done their work,” Allan volunteered. “You see, they leave a tremendous amount of stuff behind; all the limbs and branches of the trees they have cut down, as they are only after the main stem; so when this gets nice and dry, after a year or so, and a fire starts, with a brisk wind to whip it, what follows is more than I can describe. I saw one such fire, and we only escaped with our lives by the quick wit of a logger along with the party.”
“What did you do, Allan?” asked Bumpus, eagerly. “You know, I’m goin’ out with Giraffe to-morrow, and if we did meet up with a forest on fire, I couldn’t run like he can, with his long legs; so I’d like to know another way to give the old fire the go-by. Please explain how you cheated it. Why, Allan, it might save my life too, for all you know.”
“Glad to hear that you’re interested, Bumpus,” answered the other readily. “And I think every one of you ought to know about it. When you’re out hunting, try and keep the location of any stream you happen to pass, in your mind. Then in case of being beset by fire, make your way there, and get in, up to your neck. You’re going to be safe there, every time. If it gets hot, duck under, and cool off. I’ll sure never forget the time I had; but then I hope none of you will ever have to hunt for a stream, or that you’ll even see a forest fire when up here, no matter how much Giraffe wants to look on one.”
Giraffe had dropped out of the circle, and apparently some idea had just flashed into his mind connected with his pursuit of that slippery contract, whereby he expected sooner or later to make fire come, after the fashion of the far away islanders of the Pacific.
No one paid much attention, for they were heartily sick of seeing him sawing away with his little bow, wasting so much time, most of them thought; though Thad for his part was secretly pleased to see that the tall scout stuck at his apparently hopeless job; with a persistence that must win out in the end.
Thad had been explaining just what the new system of standing sentry was to be. Each of the scouts would have his turn, even Bumpus being called on, though his partner was to be old Eli. There being eight of them, their fixed posts would not run much over an hour and a half each; and it was to be expected that the boys might receive more or less benefit from having to assume some of the responsibility of the camp’s security.
Bumpus had been yawning for some time; and presently, taking advantage of a lull in the conversation the fat boy clumsily gained his feet, and made a lunge for the nearest tent, in which he was supposed to sleep.
No one was really surprised to see Bumpus trip, and go floundering to the earth, for he frequently got his legs twisted, and did that; but when there was a shout of consternation, and the tall form of Giraffe bounded erect they realized that Bumpus had actually fallen over his chum, not noticing him, because his eyes were so heavy with sleep.
“Oh! Giraffe, excuse me, please!” he remarked, as he rolled over, and sat up. “I give you my word I didn’t know you were there. I was rubbing my eyes, because they felt so hot and tired, lookin’ into the fire so long. Hope I didn’t hurt you any?”
“Hurt me,” grumbled Giraffe; “I wouldn’t care for that so much, even if you’d broken a rib or two in my side; but to think that you’d upset me just when I was agoin’ to make it burst out into a nice little flame! Why, she was smokin’ to beat the band when you knocked it all into a cocked hat by bustin’ my bow; an’ now I’ll have to sit up another hour makin’ a new one. It’s always the way. I’m havin’ the toughest luck ever was, about that business; but I can hang on, like a bulldog to the seat of your trousers when you’re gettin’ over the fence. I’m game, all right. I’m agoin’ to get that, if it takes a leg.”
But his bow, he found, could be easily repaired, as it was only the cord that had been broken. And half an hour later everybody in camp was sound asleep, saving Thad and Allan, who had taken the first watch, so as to sit there, and talk in whispers; for the patrol leader wanted to tell his chum all about Jim’s case, because he felt so great an admiration for the short guide.
When their turn had expired, according to the little nickel watch Thad carried, they woke up Eli, who, with Bumpus was to take the next spell; in turn they were expected to arouse Step Hen and Davy Jones, to be followed by Jim and Giraffe; and this would finish the night, as daylight must arrive while the last named were on duty.
Thad was a good sleeper, although as a rule the slightest thing of an unusual nature aroused him. He believed that the camp would be well watched, and when he lay down did not allow himself to get to thinking of anything to the contrary, for fear that if his brain once got to working, he might lie awake for a long time.
He had a dim recollection of the two boys who occupied the tent with him, Step Hen and Davy, creeping out, when Eli summoned them. Then came an uncertain length of time, which Thad could never measure; for he was sound asleep when it seemed to him some one was shouting something in his dreams. He sat up, and bumped his head on some object that had fallen out of place; but he was now fully awake, and felt a thrill when he heard real shouts outside, in the voices of Step Hen and Davy Jones:
“Hey, everybody get busy here! The whole camp’s on fire, and the wind driving it into the woods like hot-cakes! Hurry up! Hurry up, everybody!”
Out of the tent crawled Thad, utterly regardless of the fact that he was not altogether warmly clad for a cold night. And what met his eyes when he reached the open was enough to excite him still further.
The wind was blowing pretty stiffly, and the fire had already jumped into the brush surrounding the camp. If given its head for even a short time it seemed bound to get started in the dead pine needles; and once it spread there, all the desperate efforts of a dozen fire-fighters would be wasted.
Several figures could be seen, bounding here and there, and slashing at the red flames with anything they could get hold of that would answer to bring about a halt in their spread.
Of course these must be the late guardians of the sleeping camp, who were now shouting so strenuously, and begging the rest of the campers to come to their aid–Step Hen and Davy Jones; besides, there were the guides, hard at work, having been aroused with the first cries; for they still persisted in sleeping under a rude shelter they had made out of branches and weeds.
Thad rushed into the fray, and began to do his very utmost to keep the dreaded fire in check. He saw that the others were also crawling forth, Bumpus, Giraffe and Allan, all occupants of the first tent. And realizing the importance of concerted action, they lost not a second in getting busy.
Bumpus, in particular, was a sight to behold, and had he been less busy Thad felt that he must have doubled up with laughter to see him. He persisted in donning a most stunning red-checked suit of pajamas; for being so stout he did not suffer from the cold as much as some of the others. And as his simple heart was wrapped up in the business that just then engaged his full attention, Bumpus was prancing around, looking more like a clown from the circus than anything Thad could think of. But all the same the fat boy fought, tooth and nail, at the spreading fire. He had on his shoes, as had the others, so that he could jump on the creeping flames when all else failed; and using an extra piece of canvas that sometimes had done duty as a tent floor, Bumpus sailed into the fray like a hurricane.
Indeed, they were all as busy as beavers for a short time. Every scout seemed to feel that it would be a lasting disgrace on the name of the Silver Fox Patrol if that fire got away into the woods. They had assumed the responsibilities of assistant fire wardens; and it would be a sorry joke indeed if, instead of putting out a conflagration they themselves were the cause of one that swept the whole adjacent territory.
“Give it thunder!” shouted Giraffe, as he threshed wildly at every head of fire he could see near his boundary of action.
“Hit him again, boys!” shrilled Bumpus, as he continued to do his great act of working with both hands and feet at the same time, all serving to quench the threatening flames.
But Step Hen and Davy were strangely silent, though they worked as hard as any one. They knew that they were to blame for all the trouble; for they had slept on their post, and with this sad result.
Finally success came to the hard working scouts, and their allies, the two guides. The fire was completely routed, bag and baggage, before it managed to get a good foothold in the dry woods. And perspiring as though it were the good old summer time, the boys hastened to get more clothes on them, for fear of catching cold.
The fire was resurrected, and they sat down to have a powwow.
“Oh! you needn’t all look at us that way,” grunted Step Hen. “We’re guilty, all right. Knock us all you want to, because I just guess now we deserve it. But we never meant to go to sleep there by the fire, did we, Davy?”
“Well, I should say not,” replied the other culprit, looking quite dejected. “We kept atellin’ each other that we mustn’t sleep right along; and then to think that after all we did drop off, and both together.”
“First thing I remember,” said Step Hen, as if resolved, after pleading guilty, to open up, and throw himself on the mercy of the court; “I heard a queer crackling noise, and openin’ my eyes, my stars! the whole world seemed like it was afire. I gave Davy a punch in the side, and then jumped for it. We thought at first we could get her under control; then I saw it was no go, for the old fire kept extendin’ all the while. So I started to wake you all, and Davy, he joined in. After that Eli and Jim joined us, and then the rest of you came. And believe me, fellers, Davy and me’ll never forget it. You did handsome by us, and we’ve been saved from disgrace that would have sent us into an early grave, hey, Davy?”
“Just so,” grunted the other, who was licking several burns he had received on his bare hands during the fierce little engagement just ended, though he made no complaint, seeming to think he had gotten off pretty easily, considering the serious offense of which he had been guilty, that of sleeping on his post, and which might have cost him his life in war times, had he been a soldier.
Thad noticed this fact, and quietly getting out some salve he carried for just such occasions forced Davy to let him attend to his hurts, though the other insisted that they “did not amount to much, anyway.”
“How do you think it started?” Giraffe asked, and in so doing he really voiced the thoughts of everybody.
“Huh! I reckon that’s an easy one to answer,” replied Step Hen, promptly. “Anybody c’n see at just a single look that the wind must have picked up a live coal from the fire, and carried it into a bunch of stuff to leeward. After that it was fanned, till it spread wider and wider. That was going on while Davy and me snoozed away like a pair of sillies. No use talking, boys, I’m ashamed of myself; and let me tell you, it’ll be a long time before I ever go to sleep on duty again–not if I have to keep jabbing a pin into my leg every minute or so, to make me jump.”
“Does that explanation go, Thad?” asked Bumpus, still breathing hard after his recent violent exertions.
“Well, it looks that way, for the fire was actually to leeward of the camp when I first saw it,” answered the patrol leader; but there must have been something in his manner rather than his speech that caught the attention of Giraffe.
“But you ain’t quite satisfied, are you, Thad?” he remarked, pointedly. “You just keep athinkin’ that perhaps it wasn’t an accident after all? Am I right, now?”
“Wow! what does that kind of talk stand for?” burst out Bumpus. “Are you hinting that it was all a part of a dark scheme to burn us out of camp?”
“Wait till Eli and Jim come back,” Thad went on. “You’ve noticed that they’re not with us right now. Fact is, they took the lantern, and went off about the time we were finishing our dressing. But before they went, Jim gave me to understand what they had some reason to suspect.”
“The work of big Cale Martin and his crowd? Is that what you’re aiming to tell us, Thad?” demanded Giraffe.
“Here they come!” was all Thad said.
“Oh! my, I thought you meant the game poachers!” exclaimed Bumpus, who had made a half movement in the direction of his gun, standing conveniently near.
The two guides joined the circle around the fire. Eli held his hands out to the blaze, as though they felt cold in that nipping night air. Jim simply caught the inquiring eye of the scoutmaster, and immediately nodded his head in the affirmative. And Thad knew from that they had surely made some sort of important discovery.
“What is it, Jim?” he asked.
“They’ve been around here; we found ther tracks lots o’ places,” came the reply.
“Do you mean Cale and Si and Ed?” asked the other.
“On’y Si and Ed,” answered Jim. “Cale he wa’n’t thar ’tall. We’d sized up his big tracks ef he’d be’n. They was two men in thet canoe larst night, ye seen; wall them must a be’n ther lot as fired the brush. I guess as haow Cale, he muster gone back tew his shack by naow.”
“But what on earth could they expect to get by burning us out?” demanded Bumpus.
“Fust place they never oxpected tew burn ther camp,” observed Jim; “ef they hed, doan’t yew believe they’d agone tew windward tew start thet blaze? Wall, they hed a game wuth tew o’ thet up ther sleeve.”
“Tell us what it was, Jim,” urged Thad, though he himself had already jumped to a conclusion in the matter.
“I guess as haow they thort we’d hev tew make off a long distance away frum the camp tew fight the fire; an’ then they’d hev plenty o’ time tew clean her aout; but yeou see, we didn’t get fur away ’tall, so they hed all ther work fur nawthin’. But them tracks was as plain as anything, wa’n’t they, Eli?” Jim went on.
“They be,” was the conclusive testimony of the older guide; and every one of the scouts understood that Eli had set the seal of his approval on all that Jim had said.
It was certainly very unpleasant to realize that they were objects of desire on the part of even a pair of unscrupulous scamps, granting that big Cale Martin had retired from the combination. The boys seemed to get more indignant the longer they discussed the situation.
There was Bumpus, usually so mild and peaceful, fairly palpitating with a desire to draw a bead upon those two unprincipled rascals.
“We don’t stand for much nonsense from outsiders, do we fellers?” he appealed to the other five. “Once before on this trip some bad men thought to get fresh with the Silver Fox Patrol. You all know what happened to Charley Barnes, the leader of that bunch of yeggs that broke into the bank. Didn’t we make the capture though, and astonish Sheriff Green? And ain’t we going to get ever so much money for recovering the stolen stuff? Well, that’s what’s going to happen to those husky chaps if they get too gay with us. They’d better go slow. If they can read, they’ll see we’re marked ‘dangerous, handle with care!’”
“Yes,” said Giraffe, “we’ll just have to get busy, and hand these sillies over to the head game warden. They’re trying to interfere with our having the time of our lives up here in Maine; and we don’t stand for anything like that.”
None of them felt like getting back to their blankets in a hurry, after all that scare; so they just sat there around the fire, some of them with the blankets thrown over their shoulders, and compared notes all along the line; for what the guides had just told concerning the scheme of the unprincipled poachers filled the scouts with both indignation and anger.
And more than one of them resolved that when his time came to watch, he would make sure to keep a loaded gun close to his hand, to be used to give the prowlers the fright of their lives.
“What would you do, Bumpus,” said Step Hen, after a while, “if you couldn’t find a creek to wade in, with the fire all around you?”
“Well, d’ye know, I was just athinkin’ about that same thing,” replied the fat scout, who had thrown a blanket around him, and not bothered dressing; and as he sat there on a log he looked somewhat like a lazy Indian.
“I hope you came to some conclusion,” observed Giraffe; “because, if we happen to run across a conflagration to-morrow, when we’re out hunting, it’ll be some comfort to me to know, when I’m spinning along, that you’re snug and safe behind, and not being devoured by the flames.”
“Well, the only thing I could think of,” Bumpus went on, soberly; “seeing that a feller can’t sprout wings right away when he needs the same; nor hatch up an aeroplane to carry him out of the danger zone–the only thing for me to do would be to hunt around for a woodchuck’s hole, and push in, feet first.”
There was a laugh at that remark, which seemed to surprise Bumpus, for he looked with elevated eyebrows at each of the others in turn.
“You seem to think I’m joking,” he remarked, as if offended by the levity.
“Well,” continued Giraffe, “in the first place you’d possibly find a heap of trouble discovering a woodchuck’s hole in these Maine woods, especially when you were in a big hurry; and then again, fancy the kind of woodchuck that had a hole of a size to accommodate you, Bumpus Hawtree!”
The fat boy sighed.
“That’s what I get all along the line,” he declared. “There ain’t no place in all this world for a feller that’s nearly as round as he is tall. I tell you I’m goin’ to find some way of getting rid of all this superabundance of flesh, if I have to walk it off by taking tremendous tramps. Some people tell me it c’n be done by going hungry a week or two at a time; but what’s the use of living if you can’t eat, that’s what? So I’m in a peck of trouble. Won’t somebody tell me what to do?”
Of course, with such an open invitation, they hastened to accomodate him; and if poor Bumpus tried even a part of the numerous joking plans offered for his consideration, he would soon have no need for either food or energy, since they would, as he declared, be “putting his wooden overcoat on him.”
Finally, however, the boys began to slip back once more into the tents, all but Giraffe, who was to finish the night with Jim; although there was hardly another hour now before daylight.
“Just suits me, boys!” declared the tall scout, as he prepared to sit out his turn as sentry; “you see, I can be thinking over that knotty problem I’ve just got to figure out before we leave this part of the country. And I’ve an idea that I’m getting mighty warm on that proposition now. Would sure had it dead to rights, only for clumsy Bumpus tumbling over me.”
But no one paid much attention to what Giraffe was saying; they had by now grown so accustomed to hearing him always promising great things by “to-morrow” that it “went in one ear, and came out of the other,” Davy Jones said.
When the morning came, the camp became a scene of activity. While some of the party were busily engaged cooking a good breakfast–and it needed a lot to satisfy the healthy appetites of six growing boys, not to mention two husky guides,–others were examining the tracks that had been found after the fire.
And it was the universal opinion that two prowlers had indeed started the fire with the idea that the inmates of the camp, rushing out to fight its spread, might get so far away that it would leave the way open for the thieves to make a sweep of any valuables left unguarded in that exciting hour.
Bumpus and Giraffe were making all their preparations looking to their “sallying forth,” as the latter termed it, “like Don Quixote and Sancho Panza of old, determined to do wonderful things.” Thad saw that they felt as if they knew it all; and he realized that in such a case advice was not desired, so he said nothing about what they ought to take. If they forgot anything, they must do without, and next time think again.
Presently the two waved their hands merrily to their chums, and started forth. Bumpus looked like a well-laden, led animal as he trotted along at the heels of the tall scout, who was to do the piloting of the expedition.
“Don’t keep supper for us if we’re late,” airily called back Bumpus. “We may get further away than we can manage in one day, and have to camp alone, like Thad and Step Hen did. And if some of them old wolves pay us a visit, they’ll wish they hadn’t. Giraffe is toting his old heavy weight rifle; and here I am with my new double-barreled gun, and fifty shells. Ketch me gettin’ caught like Step Hen did, with a few charges for my trusty weapon. Good-bye, fellers! See you later!”
“Good-bye, and good luck!” called out Davy Jones, waving his cap three times to represent his idea as to the right kind of a send-off.
The hunters got along very well for several miles, though Giraffe was forever forging protests from Bumpus.
“What d’ye take me for, Giraffe?” he would exclaim, as he caught up with the waiting leader, and wiped the perspiration from his brow, despite the fact that the day was pretty cold. “You know I ain’t built on the same lines as you; and in a case of this kind, the one that c’n go faster just has to accommodate himself to the pace of the slow one. You’re the hare, and I’m like the poor old tortoise; but please remember that the turtle came in winner after all in the race. Not always to the swift, you know, does the race go. I may beat you out in the long run, with the endurance test. If I’ve got anything at all, it’s grit.”
“Yes, you will,” sneered Giraffe; but after the third stop he did moderate his speed considerably; perhaps he was beginning to get a little tired himself, and did not feel unwilling to draw in a peg or two.
At noon they ate a cold lunch, for they had come upon certain tracks that told Giraffe there had been an animal of some kind there–he wished he knew how to tell what species it belonged to, and just how long ago the tracks had been made.
“And mark me, Bumpus,” he said impressively, “I’m going to learn all those kind of things right away, as soon as I can take my mind off this pesky fire puzzle. I c’n see how handy it is to be able to read signs when you’re off huntin’. Why, when we start to follerin’ these here tracks, after we’ve eaten our grub, how on earth do we know whether they were made a week ago; or if some cow broke loose from a backwoods home up here, and wandered this way. A nice pair of chumps we’d be, wouldn’t we, if we went and shot up a pet cow, and had to pay damages? I reckon the boys’d never got over the joke.”
“That’s just what I was thinking myself, Giraffe,” agreed the other, as he sat down beside the tall scout on a fallen tree, and took out the lunch from his haversack, for he had carried it all morning, and Giraffe had let him, too; “if we’re going in for this scouting business, we ought to swallow the whole business. Now, as for learning things connected with the woods, where could you find any fellers better qualified to put us straight than we’ve got in Thad and Allan? What one don’t know, the other sure does. I’m bound to learn the game. Owning this dandy gun has given me a new idea. I used to say ‘oh! what’s the use of bothering, when you’ve got somebody else to do your thinking for you?’ But now I begin to see that you can’t always depend on others. Right here is a case in point.”
As their minds ran about in the same channel the two boys managed to get along splendidly. Their little differences of the past were, for the time being at least, quite forgotten; and they seemed drawn toward each other as two comrades should be.
But both began to complain because thus far neither of them had had occasion to make use of their gun. If this was a game country, why was it two such industrious hunters did not get a crack at something, whether a deer, a moose, or even a fox–anything would have been welcome as a change from the monotony.
Perhaps Giraffe would have been surprised if told that he and the puffing Bumpus made quite too much noise to prevent any wary and timid deer from staying within a quarter of a mile of them. And also that often they were doing their hunting “down the wind,” so that their scent at such times was carried to the nostrils of the suspicious game long before the hunters came in sight.
Finally they came across some partridges, and Bumpus managed to bag a couple with two shots from his new gun. He was greatly elated by the success attending his efforts, even though Giraffe did mention something about the birds insisting on remaining on the branch of that tree so long that they must either have been frozen there, or else wanted to commit suicide.
“Well, they came to the right place, then,” said Bumpus, sturdily, as he crammed new shells in his gun; “I’m the feller to help every partridge and deer pass over the divide, that feels like going. Bring on your game; now we’re going some!”
But as the afternoon began to wane they had a shot at nothing else, though once Giraffe became excited, and declared he had caught a glimpse of a deer making off in the distance.
“Now, ain’t it a shame,” he went on to say, “how that deer just knew we were coming? Seems like somebody went ahead with a trumpet, and announced that two hunters were on the trail. After that they all hike out. But seems to me it’s getting some cold right now, Bumpus. My fingers begin to tingle.”
“Told you to wear the old mitts Step Hen offered you, but you sneered at the idea. I’m feeling pretty cold myself, considerin’ that I’m on the move all the time. Say, where are we anyhow, and how far from the camp?”
Giraffe looked blankly at Bumpus.
“Here’s the compass, and we c’n see which way is north, all right. Then east is off that way on the right, south around yonder, and west here. But where in the dickens is that camp, south, north or east? Honest, Bumpus, I don’t know!”
“No more do I, Giraffe,” replied the other. “And d’ye know, this makes me think of that Injun that got lost, and was found, half starved, by some white men; but he was too proud to admit his little shortcoming; so when they asked him if he hadn’t kinder managed to get twisted in his bearings, he slaps his breast with his hand, take a pose like this, and says he: ‘Injun not lost; wigwam lost; Injun here!’ And we’re like that Injun, Giraffe; oh! no, we’re not lost one little bit, because we know we’re here. But I just can’t amble on any longer. Suppose we stop and camp. These partridges will taste prime. Yum! yum, can’t get at ’em too soon to please me. Get busy, and light a fire, Giraffe; that’s your part of the contract always.”
“I sure will, if you give me a few matches, Bumpus,” replied the other, wearily dropping his heavy rifle, that began to feel like a ton of lead.
“Matches! Why, you’re the fire-maker; and I thought you’d take care of that part of the business!” exclaimed Bumpus, looking a little alarmed.
“Why, what a silly you can be, Bumpus; don’t you know I promised Thad never to carry a single match around with me? And now, look what a fix we’re in, lost in the Maine woods, with night coming on, and gettin’ colder every minute; and not a single match to start a fire with. I see our finish all right. When they find us some days from now, we’ll be just frozen stiff, that’s what!”
The two tenderfeet looked at each other, but there was no smile on either face now; for affairs had assumed too serious a phase to admit of merriment.