And he even thrust his finger into the ragged hole just back of the fore leg of the dead animal, as though wondering how so small a bullet could ever make such a big opening. Sebattis had something to learn concerning the results springing from the use of a soft-nosed bullet, that flattens out when striking any object, even the side of an animal.
“We ought to let the boys know right away,” said Thad, thinking of how his chums must be almost consumed with anxiety to be told the result of that lone shot; which Step Hen must guess came from his new rifle, and not the larger one carried by the Indian guide.
“Tad call um here. Me make little fire, so see how climb hill,” said Sebattis.
Only too gladly did Thad send out a whoop that easily reached the listening ears of those comrades in camp. An answering hail came back.
“Come on over here, all of you,” was all Thad would say in return.
Immediately they heard a great threshing, as the entire crowd started on a run in the direction of the call. Doubtless poor Bumpus would have fared badly, and been left far in the lurch, only for the kindness of Jim, who gave him a helping hand over all obstacles.
Meanwhile the Indian had hastened to scrape together a few handfuls of dead stuff, which he seemed to know just where to look for; to this he applied a match and as it sprang into a tiny flame, he proceeded to add such fuel as he could most readily pick up.
In less than a minute he had a real fire going, that began to dispel the shadows of night around the vicinity of the spot where the giant moose lay. As it burned on the top of the bald ridge, the fire would serve as a beacon to show the others just how to reach the place.
Now they were climbing the low elevation. Thad could hear some of them puffing at a great rate. Of course Giraffe was the first to arrive, with Eli close on his heels; then Allan, and the others trailing after in any old style.
Each one of them pushed immediately to where the prize lay; and loud were the exclamations of astonishment when they realized just what a monster it was that Thad had brought down with that one fortunate shot.
Step Hen in particular was almost crazy with joy.
“Now make fun of my pea-shooter, will you, Giraffe?” he cried, dancing around, and hugging his fine little rifle with all the delight a boy might show in the possession of his first long trousers. “Just look at what it did, would you? Why, anybody’s just silly to lug an old heavy blunderbuss like yours around, when he c’n own such a bully little thing at this. Oh! didn’t she just do everything to that old bull, though? If he’d known about my gun he’d have lit out in the other direction, licketty-split. After this, why should I be afraid to stand up in front of any sort of big game that walks on four feet or hoofs? You hear me, Giraffe?”
Thad did not disturb the wild dream of the tenderfoot chum; though he wondered whether Step Hen could have hit Bumpus’ old red barn, if, lying there in wait, he had suddenly seen the monster rise into view above the crown of the low ridge, and felt Sebattis nudge him in the ribs, as a warning that the time had come to shoot.
But it was a great moment for all the scouts, as they stood over the prize that had fallen to the gun of their patrol leader, Thad Brewster.
“How’re we goin’ to get this game all the way to camp?” demanded Giraffe.
“Camp?” echoed Davy Jones, beginning to look alarmed, as he contemplated the enormous bulk of the bull moose, and then imagined the lot of them tugging and straining every nerve to drag it over the intervening ground.
“Now, just you hold on, there, Davy; don’t begin to feel one of them cramp fits of your comin’ on, just because we have to work like pack horses,” Step Hen remarked.
“Ain’t never thinking of such a thing,” said Davy, stiffening up again. “You just think it’s funny, but if ever you got doubled up once, you’d feel for me.”
In times past the Jones boy had been subject to queer fits that took him all of a sudden, and doubled him up with a severe cramp. When he had one of these, he was utterly helpless. They had saved Davy more than a few whippings, in school and at home: and in this respect proved very accommodating cramps. But latterly the boys suspected Davy had really outgrown them; and that he was only threatened with a return of the disease whenever there seemed to be some hard work to be done. Possibly his active outdoor life, and that gymnastic desire on his part to do all manner of athletic stunts had helped get rid of the trouble.
“But after all,” declared Thad, “I don’t think anybody is dreaming of trying to carry, or drag the moose all the way to our camp. How about that, Eli?”
The older guide, upon being appealed to in this fashion, remarked that they would be foolish to think of such a thing.
“We kin cut it up right here in the mornin’,” he observed. “I guess yu boys’d like to try a steak from the ole bull; an’ we’ll tote sum o’ the meat along. An’ as fur the horns, I kin fix them all right. We’ll kerry ’em in one of the canoes, so’s ye kin show yer friends the kind o’ game we has up here in Maine.”
That suited Thad just right. He wanted those towering horns very much, and was only afraid there might be some objection to taking them along, for they must weigh quite heavily.
So after a while the whole party started back to the camp, where a fire was once more kindled, the night being cool, the guides felt the need of warmth, since they would have no cover over them as they slept.
It was some time before the scouts could think of settling down. The glorious success that had attended this first try at game worth while, seemed to inspire the entire lot with an eager desire to emulate Thad’s example. Why, even Bumpus seemed to partake of the fever to some extent, though he had brought no gun along, and did not claim to be any sort of sportsman.
When morning came at last the oldest guide went over, and started operations on the dead moose. He took off the skin, and secured the horns for the successful hunter, to be preserved as a trophy of the event.
Besides this, Eli brought back quite a lot of the best meat. The boys were wild to see what moose steak tasted like; but although it aroused their hunger while it was in process of cooking, still the best any of them could do was to gnaw at their portion, for it was as tough as anything they had ever struck.
“That’s where we missed it,” grumbled Giraffe, after giving up in disgust all efforts to masticate some of his portion.
“In what way do you mean?” asked Thad, expecting the other would say he ought to have selected a younger and more tender animal, when supplying food for the camp.
“Why,” the tall scout continued, with a broad grin; “d’ye know, I said we had ought to fetch that little meat chopper our folks at home use; and the rest of you laughed at the idea. Just think, if we had it now, what a fine hash we’d be enjoyin’ every day. That’s the only thing I know of that could grind up this tough meat.”
It was rather later than usual that morning before they got started in the canoes; there seemed so much to do. But in good time these various duties were fulfilled. The guides did not appear at all anxious. They seemed to feel satisfied that before a great while had passed, they would get in touch with the party they were following; and meant that the boys in their charge should enjoy some of the Maine hunting on the way.
Eli declared that he knew of another fine camping spot ahead, which they would doubtless reach about dark. This was really an old and long deserted cabin, once occupied by a trapper, who had taken his toll of furs in the neighboring streams where once upon a time all manner of valuable animals were plentiful, from mink, otter, marten, and even beaver; while around the vicinity foxes used to be thick, not to mention wildcats, an occasional panther, and even wolves; though these latter can seldom be found within the limits of Maine at the present day.
The boys had had more or less experience in using log cabins for nights lodgings; and they amused themselves as they pushed on, with reminiscences of events that would always be interesting to them.
Of course there were times when the three canoes were some little distance apart, but again they would come close enough together for the inmates to have shaken hands, had the inclination to do so arisen.
At noon they stopped to eat lunch, and give the guides a chance to rest, for the work of pushing up against that current was no child’s play. Although the boys were ready to lend a helping hand, and “spell” the guides from time to time, naturally the brunt of the work fell on Eli, Jim and Sebattis.
“Did any of you hear a gunshot a little while ago?” asked Giraffe, when the boats came together about the middle of the afternoon.
“He keeps on sayin’ he’s sure he did,” broke in Bumpus, who was in the canoe with the tall boy, making “the long and short of it, or both extremes meet,” as Bumpus himself often humorously remarked; “but neither Eli nor I caught it. How about the rest of you?”
“Nothing doing here,” said Step Hen; and all the rest, even the stolid Sebattis, denied having heard anything that sounded like the report of a firearm.
“Which way did it seem to come from, Giraffe?” asked Thad, wondering if after all the other could have caught a faint sound that escaped the vigilance of the three guides; and thinking of Mr. Carson, of course, who was ahead somewhere.
“Oh! about the way we’re goin’ I reckon,” replied Giraffe. “Just seemed to ketch the faintest little boom; but Eli said as how he hadn’t heard nothin’. The wind had died out at the time, but the air was still from the north. I’m right sure it was a gun, even if Bumpus here does say I had an idea, and it was such a new thing it hit me with a bump.”
The afternoon wore away, and the sun set without their having reached their destination.
“Where’s your old and comfy cabin?” demanded Bumpus. “I’m tired of sittin’ here so long, and I guess I’ll never be able to get straightened out again.”
“Huh!” grunted Giraffe, “think of me, will you? Ain’t I near twice as long? Ain’t I twisted up in a knot every which way? My legs took to bendin’ so they’ll knock my knees together; or else look like hoops. How much you got to complain about, you little dumplin’, Bumpus.”
“But Eli says we’re going on, and that we’ll make it not a great while after dark sets in,” Bumpus remarked, scorning to enter into an argument with the other on the subject of whether it paid to be long drawn out, or else shut up in a small compass.
“Good for Eli, then; we can’t get there any too soon to suit me,” declared Davy Jones, who was working a paddle in conjunction with Jim; Allan having done more than his share of the work during various periods in the afternoon just passed.
“Give us half a hour more, and we’ll sure git thar,” said Eli, later on, when the shadows of coming night began to cover the river; and had already swooped down in full force upon the adjacent woods.
They paddled along in silence, except when one of the boys managed to splash in dipping or removing his paddle blade. Those who were new to the work found that they had considerable to learn before they could expect to work as silently as Sebattis, for example. The way the Indian would sent the canoe forward with vigorous thrusts, and yet never removing his paddle from the water, and making no sound whatever, was a never ending source of delight to both Thad and Step Hen. And the latter tried valiantly to imitate his example whenever he took the extra spruce blade in hand.
Finally, when the half hour had about arrived at its conclusion, Eli gave the tired voyagers a pleasant shock by suddenly calling out:
“Land here!”
The three canoes were enabled to find good places to run ashore, by means of Thad’s precious little electric torch, which came in handy in scores of different ways during the Maine expedition, and paid for itself time and again.
Then, first of all, they found where the cabin lay. Eli seemed to know all about it, and claimed to have spent many a night under the shelter of its still fairly well preserved roof; though it had been two years now since last he was here; for on the previous season he took a party along another trail.
Giraffe insisted on starting a little blaze outside. He was always thinking of some excuse for making fires; and in this instance nobody quarreled with him, for they really needed some light in order to unload the canoes, and carry the stuff up to the old cabin.
The door would not go more than half-way shut, but outside of this defect, which was not so very serious, since the wintry blasts had not yet set in, the log cabin seemed to offer a cozy shelter for the night.
Once they got inside, and Giraffe was set to work again, building another fire, this time in the big fireplace, above which yawned the wide-throated chimney.
The cabin had once been quite a pretentious place, in those old days when the builder, perhaps with a trapper pard, spent his time here gathering a heavy tribute of rich pelts from the native furry inhabitants of swamp and river and forest.
Its roof was quite high, and the reason for this became manifest as soon as any one entered; for it was found that there was a loft extending halfway across, and which could be reached by a rude but still sturdy ladder.
“Now, what in the dickens do you think he ever built that up there for?” Step Hen said, as he started to ascend the ladder; and then, thinking better of it, gave up the idea.
“A place to store his bales of dried furs, so Eli says,” replied Allan. “You see, being up here for six months, constantly gathering in new pelts every day, they increased rapidly, and took considerable space; so, having plenty of room, he just ran that platform half-way across, and six feet and a half from the floor down here.”
“Great stunt,” remarked Step Hen, but he made no further attempt to ascend to the platform, his curiosity being satisfied.
And later on, Step Hen shook hands with himself because of that second thought, considering himself a lucky boy, which indeed proved to be the case.
There was more or less talking and laughing as they started preparations for supper. The chimney seemed to draw poorly at first, possibly on account of not having been used for so long. When it got warmed up, perhaps it would “behave”, Eli remarked. Meanwhile there was considerable smoke in the cabin, and more or less sneezing, as well as rubbing of smarting eyes.
“Say, what d’ye mean, trying to choke us all, Giraffe?” demanded Bumpus, who looked as though in great distress, as the tears were rolling down his fat cheeks like “little Niagaras”, Step Hen declared.
“And I reckon, now, you just picked out the greenest wood ever, so’s to give us a good dose of this?” suggested Davy Jones, also rubbing his eyes.
Altogether the boys were making so much noise themselves that no one could expect to hear anything else. That was the only reason Thad could give, later on, why the keen ears of Eli or Sebattis had not detected certain things that must have come to their knowledge had it not been for this clamor, and rattle of merry tongues.
“Anybody think of having some more of that india-rubber steak for supper?” sang out Giraffe, still working with the fire, which seemed to be behaving a little better already, and gave promise of being all right presently.
“Say, don’t everybody shout out at once. Put me down for baked beans first, last and all the time,” declared Bumpus, seeking the vicinity of the door in order to cool his heated eyes, smarting from the pungent smoke.
“Hello! who’s rocking the old cabin like that? Let up, can’t you before it goes over?” shouted Step Hen, standing in the doorway for air.
Possibly he may have thought it did go over, for just then some great hairy object came tumbling down from the loft, making some use of the ladder, but at the same time landing with a crash on the floor. Then, before any one could so much as make the first move toward one of the guns, standing in a corner of the cabin, this lumbering object hustled over to the half-open door, and bowled through, upsetting both Step Hen and Bumpus in its passage.
For a second or two silence followed, and then a tremendous shout broke out:
“Great smoke! did you see it?” whooped Giraffe, jumping to his feet.
“Who hit me?” gurgled Bumpus, who had crashed into the wall of the cabin, and was sitting there on the floor, looking dazed.
A head was thrust in through the half-open door, and Step Hen shouted:
“It was a great big black bear, and he just went and kicked me out of the place, fellers!”
“A bear!” shrieked Bumpus, struggling to his knees; “and he shoved me around like I was a bundle of hay! Did you ever hear of such nerve?”
“Think what he did to me?” cried Step Hen entering through the partly open door; “I was just pokin’ my nose out, to get a whiff of fresh air, for I couldn’t hardly breathe in here; when he sent me a flyin’, just like you’d kick for goal on the gridiron. Guess I covered all of ten feet, and landed in them bushes out there. Look here! See what I got off’n the old beast.”
He opened his clenched hand, and exhibited a bunch of long black hairs. Undoubtedly Step Hen must have involuntarily clutched at the bear as they came in contact, and had managed to hold on to these tokens of the collision.
Thad was laughing and shaking all over, so were Eli and Jim; and Allan joined in. Presently the whole of them began to see the ludicrous side of the adventure, and even Sebattis was noticed to be grinning. Nobody had ever known him to emit a genuine laugh.
“And just to think how near we came to having bear steak for breakfast, instead of that old tough moose meat,” remarked Giraffe.
“Well, that’s all right,” Step Hen took occasion to say; “but if a feller c’n judge from the way he kicked me, that bear was some tough too. My! I’d sure hate to put on the gloves with him in a bout. I just had time to turn and look around, when I heard that big bump; then he jumped me, and out we both went. Mebbe I ain’t glad now I didn’t keep right on going up that ladder when I started. Just think what a time I’d had up there with him!”
“Wow, and again I say, wow!” snapped Giraffe. “Things seem to be happening right thick and fast now, fellers. This sure is the big game country, all right, and to the good.”
They were all of one opinion with respect to that. To get one night a lordly moose bull, and by the romantic way of calling, too; and then the very next to run across a big burly bear, was as fine a piece of good luck as any of them could wish for.
“Wonder what’s coming along next in line?” remarked Bumpus, nervously, as he made sure to get close to the fire, and away from the open door.
“Say, you don’t think that old bear’d have the nerve to come back here on second thoughts, and try to clean out the whole bunch?” Step Hen queried; “because I’ve seen all I want of him. They say three times and out; but I reckon it was only once with me; and I went, too.”
“No, I wasn’t thinking of him,” Bumpus declared; “but then there might be a few elephants or rhinoceroses, or camels, or something else hanging around these diggings, waiting to get acquainted. I don’t like meetin’ up with ’em so sudden like. Whiff! bang! and then good-bye! Why, it ain’t decent to treat a feller that way without bein’ introduced first.”
“And to think that the sly old critter was up there all the time we kept talkin’ and carryin’ on down here?” said Davy Jones, who had come out of the affair with only a skinned knee, owing to striking up against some wood on the floor, when he threw himself wildly to one side at sight of the descending bear.
“What d’ye think ever started him movin’?” asked Bumpus.
“Smoke do it,” replied Eli. “The ole bear, he lies quiet, not knowin’ what to make o’ us comin’ in here, whar he’s expectin’ to take up his winter quarters. But purty soon thet smoke it begins to smart his eyes. Bears don’t like smoke, any more’n any animile does. So gettin’ frightened arter a while, he starts down the ladder, misses his grip, an’ lands in a heap on the floor. If I’d be’n able tuh git hold o’ a gun I’d a guv him his pill; but I guess it’d be’n dangerous work shootin’ in here, with so many ’raound.”
“Will we ever run across him again?” remarked Step Hen, as he felt all over his body, to ascertain how many scratches or bruises had resulted from the rather hurried way in which he took his recent departure. “I don’t mind being fired from a cannon,” he continued, as several twinges of pain told him he had not come through the ordeal entirely unscathed; “but I draw the line at being made a football by a scared bear. Wonder he didn’t break every rib I have. As ’tis, I wouldn’t be much s’prised if a dozen or so were fractured.”
“Well, we’ll make you a strait jacket to-morrow, and keep you in a plaster cast the rest of the trip,” declared Giraffe; chuckling in rare good humor, because, for once at least, he had not been caught up in the little whirl.
“Like fun you will,” grumbled Step Hen, getting Bumpus to rub his back for him, on promise of returning the favor in kind.
“But I think somebody ought to go up and look that loft over,” suggested Davy Jones. “How do we know but what it’s just full of bears right now. ’Tain’t the nicest thing to think such a load’s goin’ to drop down on your head any old time. He might upset my coffee when I get to drinkin’, too.”
So, to quiet the boys, Jim climbed up, taking the little electric torch along with him. Upon his reporting that all was clear some of the others also ascended, to see where the bear had been sleeping at the time of their arrival.
“Now, if there was only a couple of nice jolly little cubs around, we’d have heaps of fun playing with ’em,” Bumpus suggested, as he too examined the loft, and saw where the bear had been making a soft sleeping place out of dead leaves that must have drifted in through a hole at the end of the roof, but much too small to let the big beast go out that way.
“Cubs! listen to him, would you?” cried Step Hen. “Why, it ain’t the time of year for cubs; and if it was, I’d like to see you playin’ with any, while the old missus was alive, and hangin’ around. She’d cub you with a club, worse’n she did me; and don’t you forget it, Bumpus. Cubs! Well, what queer things you do see when you haven’t a gun,” and the way he looked at the fat boy when saying this made Bumpus bristle up immediately.
“Don’t you call me a thing, Step Hen!” he admonished, severely; at which there was a shout from the other.
“He admits it all, fellers;” Davy Jones exclaimed; “he puts on the shoe first thing. But then, Bumpus, we know you ain’t up on natural history. It’s a wonder you didn’t say that was a hippopotamus, or a crocodile, instead of a bear. You’re bound to know more about these things before you get back to Cranford again. We’ll let it go at that. How’s that supper gettin’ on, Giraffe? Anything more I c’n do to help?”
“Anything more?” echoed the cook, disdainfully; “I’d like to know the first thing you’ve done to help get it. Didn’t he say he felt one of them fits acomin’ on when we landed here, fellers; and then on top of that, you got so scared by that old bear dropping down on us, you couldn’t hardly move. I just see you helpin’, when you c’n crawl out of it. The only help you’ll give will be when supper’s ready for servin’, and then it’ll be to make way with the stuff good and hearty. I notice you never get one of them cramps right then, Davy; oh, no! They’re right handy things to have in the house, ain’t they. I’m goin’ to borrow a few sometime, see if I don’t now.”
In good time the supper was pronounced ready, Eli having assisted in its preparation; for, with nine hungry voyagers to feed, the amount that had to be prepared made the task no light one.
As usual, they made merry while disposing of the food that had been gotten ready. Some of the moose was cut up as small as possible, and made into a palatable stew. Then they had Boston baked beans; and some pretty fair biscuits, which Eli baked in the little portable oven that was carried in one of the boats. Of course coffee made a part of the supper. At home possibly few of these lads ever drank coffee more than once a day, and at breakfast at that; but here in the woods the meal would seem rather tame without the warm cup that every one looked for.
“What do you say to stopping here a day or so, boys?” asked Thad. “I’ve been talking it over with Eli, and he says we couldn’t find a better place for game. Perhaps, now, one of the rest of you may run across a moose bigger even than mine; or Bumpus here stands a chance of meeting up with his friend, the bear, who gave him that handshake in passing.”
“Excuse me,” Bumpus hastened to say; “that doesn’t mean I object to hanging out at the Hotel Log Cabin as long as the rest of you see fit; but I don’t hanker after meetin’ up with that rude black pirate again. He may be a pretty fine kind of a bear, as bears go; but I object to the breed.”
“Count us all as saying we’ll be glad of a break in the journey, Thad,” Allan remarked, just then. “Besides, we must be somewhere near where that Mr. Carson is hunting, right now; and at any time we might run up against him.”
Step Hen, Giraffe and Davy nodded their heads, as though to intimate that Allan voiced the sentiments of all when he said that.
“There’s one thing I’ve got in my mind, and it’s this,” Bumpus went on to remark. “Now’s goin’ to be the time for Allan here to keep his promise to show me a bee tree. He told me that summer was the time to do it, when the bees were on the wing, and he could work his little game; but that he’d try his best to ’commodate me any time, once we got up here in Maine.”
“And so I will,” replied the other, smiling at the earnestness with which Bumpus kept talking on that one subject. “Perhaps Jim, or Eli here, will help me find a tree. If the bees are hived up for winter, then the only way we can do it is to listen when the noonday sun is shining. Sometimes, before the weather gets too cold, the young bees come out of their hole, and buzz around, trying their wings. I’ve found a hive in the dead top of a tree that way.”
“And got a lovely stock of juicy honeycomb too, I guess?” said Giraffe, making a face to indicate that the subject certainly appealed to him from the standpoint of a sweet luxury, if from nothing else.
“Sure we did; and a lovely lot of stings thrown in,” chuckled Allan.
“Well, they say bee stings are good for rheumatism, and I’ve sometimes thought I was getting a touch of that in my legs,” Davy Jones observed, thoughtfully.
“There wasn’t much rheumatism about you when that bear dropped down on us,” said Giraffe, scornfully. “The way you scooted out of the way would have made the best short distance sprinter turn green with envy. Rheumatism! Wow! that goes in line with cramps, I guess, now.”
“What’ll we put all the honey in?” asked Bumpus, just as though he counted the finding of the bee tree an accomplished thing, because Allan had agreed to do what he could to find one.
“I’ll hold all I can,” retorted Giraffe, complacently; “but then you mustn’t expect me to keep on loading up, till I bust. I c’n stretch sometimes; but even that’s no sign I’m made of injy rubber, is it?”
“Well, we won’t cook our rabbit till we’ve got him,” said Allan. “Sometimes most of the honey in a bee tree is old, and candied. The new stuff is what counts. The other is dark colored and sickening sweet. But wait and see, if so be we’re lucky enough to strike one.”
After supper was over they enjoyed sitting there before the fire, and listening to Eli tell stories about the old cabin; which, according to his accounts, must have seen many queer happenings at least equal to the one surprise to which they had been treated, on their first acquaintance with it on this night.
Thad, being given a fair amount of imagination, found it easy to shut his eyes, and believe he could see the old trapper who once lived here, as Eli described him. Years upon years he had come and gone, as the winters passed, always taking toll of the woods’ folks; yet never trying to make such a deep inroad on their numbers but that there were plenty left for breeding purposes. The wise old trapper looked forward to another year. Finally he had lost his life among the wild loggers of a Maine river; being unfortunate enough to get caught in a jam that he was trying to break.
When some of the boys, tired from the work of the day, and lack of rest on the preceding night, stretched out their blankets, and disputed about where each should settle down later on. Thad and Eli stepped out to see what the night promised for the coming day. If it looked like snow they would find good tracking weather; though for one Thad hoped this would still keep off some little while, and allow them to do some hunting before winter closed on them.
The stars were shining brightly in the dark heavens. The young moon had sunk to rest; but every night now they might expect it to grow in size, until in a week considerable light would come from this source. And there is nothing more enjoyable when in the depths of the wilderness, than a round, clear moon.
As the two stood there, speaking of these things, there came stealing on the night air a strange sound that, although rising from a considerable distance away from the cabin, still struck Thad as very weird, and also blood-curdling. He had heard watch dogs bay to the moon; but this was something far more thrilling.
“That’s no wildcat; and I don’t think it can be a panther, a bear or any animal I’ve ever struck in the woods. What do you make out of it, Eli?” he asked, turning to the old guide, whom he had heard emit a whistle, as of astonishment, at the time that queer howl was heard.
“It’s be’n many a year now, Thad, since ever I heerd the like o’ thet howl,” the Maine guide observed. “Time was when they uster be here in plenty; but the bounty paid by the state, it just ’bout cleaned the hull lot out; er else they thort as how ’twar safer up yonder, acrost the line in Canada.”
“What’s that?” exclaimed Thad; “do you mean to tell me that was a wolf?”
“A real wolf, an’ nothin’ else,” answered Eli; “an’ let me tell ye, it do bring back the old days, fur me to listen to thet howl. This is like livin’ again.”
“Ugh! that right, Eli; wolf only cry like that!” said a voice close beside the two who stood there; and turning, they could make out a figure which they knew must be that of Sebattis; but so softly had the Indian slipped out, after hearing that well-known though faint howl, that even Eli, sharp ears though he possessed, had not detected his coming until he spoke.
“Where thar’s one wolf thar’s agoin’ ter be more,” remarked the old Maine guide, with the air of one who knew what he was talking about.
“Huh! wolf he always hunt in pack, never by self,” observed Sebattis, drily.
“That adds a little spicy flavor to our being up here, then,” Thad went on to say, being not displeased; for if only he could have that magical little rifle of Step Hen’s in his hands, he cared not how many of the fierce brutes he might run across; for with its quick-shooting qualities, and the deadly nature of the bullets it used, he believed he could take care of all comers. Besides, if hard-pressed, it was always possible to take to a tree, where one would be safe from the cruel fangs of the animals.
When they went inside, and told what they had heard, the boys received the news with various shades of enthusiasm. Giraffe was really pleased, for he meant to do something bold on this trip that would forever establish his reputation as a mighty Nimrod; Step Hen fondled his rifle, and then stood it in the corner close to the spot where he had spread his blanket, as though he had a faint idea he might find need for it in the night; Davy Jones shrugged his shoulders, and hoped he would not happen to run across the pack when alone; and as for Bumpus, he deliberately changed his blanket, placing it on the further side of several others, away from that open door.
But Eli had been examining that same door, and was of the opinion that, with a little effort, it might be coaxed to shut. This he proceeded to accomplish, and with a success that won him a cheer from the timid Bumpus.
“Never did like to sleep in a draught,” muttered the fat scout; “and I’m glad the glass stayed in that window all these years.”
“That is queer, for a fact,” observed Thad. “But I reckon now it would never have held out if some of the fellows we have in Cranford had come along.”
“You hit it right about that, Thad,” agreed Step Hen. “Take that Ambrose Griffin and his cronies, Eli Bangs and Walt Hopkins, and they never could pass an empty house without shyin’ stones at the windows. I’ve heard a smash many a time, and seen one of them scootin’ away like hot cakes. Guess they like to hear the jingle of the broken glass; it must sound like music to some fellers.”
“What’s thet ye say ’bout Eli?” asked the old guide, pricking up his ears.
“Oh! we weren’t talking about you that time,” laughed Thad. “It happens that you’ve got a namesake down in the town where we live, who’s up to every trick there is, that he thinks will afford him some fun;” and as the guide expressed an interest in the matter, Thad detailed a few of the practical jokes which were believed to lie at the doors of the three bad boys of Cranford.
When he heard about the lights going out at the church, just when a convert was about to be immersed, and the cries of the alarmed audience, together with shrieks from the frightened woman, who really thought she had been transplanted from this world into another, since everything became suddenly black around her, the guide grinned. He had never heard of such carrying on, and thought it was comical. But Thad knew that more than one person had need of a doctor after that episode; and that if actual proof could be procured concerning the culprits who cut the electric wires, they would have been severely punished by the town fathers.
Somehow none of the boys seemed in such a hurry to lie down now. Thad’s stories of events which they knew from first hands started them talking again; and by degrees some of the rest related other doings that were commonly laid at the door of the three Cranford scapegraces.