Bumpus changed his blanket three separate times in the course of half an hour. There was no draught now to complain of, since Eli had managed to get the door closed; but Thad noticed the fat and timid scout eying that wide throat of the chimney; and really believed Bumpus had come to suspect that it was large enough to admit of the passage of one of those hungry wolves, should they find all other avenues of ingress closed to them. And he did not fancy being directly in the road of the first one that came in.
Bumpus knew that he must prove a juicy morsel for any half-starved beast of prey; and that, given the chance, they were just sure to pick him out. Giraffe was playing safe under any considerations, for the animal that would prefer that bag of bones must be out of its mind.
And Thad also made up his mind that after Bumpus got fairly to sleep he would manage to get possession of the gun he had hitched closer to him, and which was the double-barreled weapon carried into the woods by Davy, who had made no protest when the stout boy coolly appropriated the same.
There could be no telling but that Bumpus, with his mind worked up over that bear, and the wolf that had howled away off up the river, might dream he was being hotly attacked. And a gun in the possession of a greenhorn can be even more dangerous under such conditions than if an adept handled it.
“I’ve just thought of a good thing,” suddenly exclaimed Bumpus.
“Then get it out of your system in a hurry, or it’ll hurt you,” said Giraffe.
“No danger of anything good ever hurting you, Giraffe,” declared the other, with a fine show of sarcasm that caused the tall scout to grin; for somehow, when he and Bumpus got to exchanging compliments, Giraffe always seemed rather tickled if the other managed to give him a sly dig.
“Well, let’s hear what struck you, all of a sudden,” he remarked.
“It’s about our honey,” began Bumpus, seriously.
“What honey?” demanded Giraffe, pretending to look all around. “I haven’t seen any, that I know of.”
“Oh! you know what I mean;” Bumpus went on; “the honey we expect to get, when Allan finds the bee tree. I’m just as dead sure he’s goin’ to do it, as I am of having my breakfast to-morrow morning.”
“Well, I reckon Allan only wishes he was as sure as you are,” Giraffe remarked.
“Let him tell what’s on his mind, can’t you, Giraffe?” broke in Davy Jones. “I think it’s a shame how you badger that poor fellow. Don’t you know there’s a law against cruelty to animals?”
“Monkeys are included under that law, please remember,” retorted the fat boy, as he turned on his new tormentor. “But I suppose you fellows are just dying to know the brilliant thought that just flashed into my mind a little while ago?”
“Go on, and get it out,” begged Step Hen.
“Yes, we want to know, if we’re not from Missouri,” added Allan.
“Well, there isn’t any reason why we should waste a whole lot of it after all, if we only know enough to use our brains, and take advantage of our opportunities,” Bumpus went on, with exasperating slowness, as though this might be his method of getting even for the attack upon him.
“What sort of opportunities?” demanded Davy.
“Storage capacity,” answered the other, simply.
“Now, its all very well to want to save the honey,” observed Giraffe, eying the other suspiciously; “but if you expect us to fill up our kettles, and every dish we’ve got along with us, you’re off your base, Bumpus. We have to eat three times a day; and just fancy having even the coffee pot jammed full of sticky sweetness.”
“Guess again,” remarked Bumpus, composedly. “Well, I suppose that I’ll just have to tell you, because you’d never get on to such a brilliant idea in a thousand years. First thing, you didn’t know I brought it along, perhaps. Don’t hardly understand myself just why I borrowed it from Smithy; but I must have thought it’d come in handy, sometime or other. And it’s going to, fellows; it’s going to.”
“What is?” shouted Giraffe, now at the end of his patience.
“Why, that cute little collapsible rubber foot bath belonging to our comrade, Smithy. You know he was such a clean feller, that he just couldn’t think of going anywhere at first, without carrying that tub along. It holds quite a lot; and if we filled it with nice sweet honey——”
But poor Bumpus did not get any further in his explanation. Roars of laughter broke in upon his story; for the idea of filling a rubber foot bath with the sticky product of a bee tree was too much for the rest of the boys. And Bumpus, after staring around in a hurt way, shrugged his fat shoulders, and relapsed into silence, simply remarking.
“Oh! all right; that’s all a feller gets for crackin’ his brain trying to think up things for the benefit of the whole bunch. I just guess that old bear’ll get the main part of our honey, after all.”
“What’s that? Do bears like honey, Allan?” demanded Giraffe.
“I should say they did,” replied the Maine lad, readily enough. “They’re just wild over it. A bear will overturn a hive, if ever he gets in a garden, and devour comb and all, like a regular pig.”
“But the bees,” continued the tall scout; “don’t they sting him at all? Think of the thousands of little critters, each with his poison lance, stinging that poor bear.”
“It doesn’t seem to bother the bear one bit,” Allan added. “I’ve known them to just clean out a hive; and when we shot the varmint just afterward, he didn’t seem to have a swollen head from any stings. But if we should be lucky enough to find a bee tree, perhaps we’ll coax our friend, the bear that was in this cabin, to come around; and then some of you can get a crack at him. His hide would make a rug to be proud of, especially if you had killed the beast yourself.”
“Count me in on that game,” said Giraffe, earnestly. “I boasted to the boys at home that I was goin’ to bag a big bear; and if I don’t make good they’ll give me the laugh, you see. And then we’ll find out whether this heavy old rifle that belonged to my uncle, ain’t equal to a new-fangled little popgun that shoots spreader bullets.”
The boys had begun to show new signs of quieting down. Some were yawning again, and the chances were the signal to crawl under the blankets would presently have been given by Thad.
It was Bumpus who suddenly aroused the whole party. He sat upright on the floor, and pointed directly at the window that was opposite to where he had last thrown his blanket down. Thad saw that the face of the fat boy really expressed surprise, not to mention consternation, as he cried out:
“Oh! I wonder who that was I saw peek in at the window just then, and draw back when he caught me lookin’ at him. A white man, too, fellers, it was, believe me; I ain’t foolin’!”
Everybody jumped up, the three guides as well as the boys, when Bumpus made this astonishing declaration. But although their eyes instantly sought the window indicated, the cob-webbed glass betrayed no sign of the presence of any one.
“He’s got ’em again, boys!” exclaimed Giraffe, in utter disgust. “You know, time was when our friend Bumpus was always seein’ things? He used to get us up in the middle of the night huntin’ around for all sorts of crazy wild beasts; and then, after we’d been nearly frozen, he’d yawn, say he guessed he must a been dreamin’ again, and turn over to go to sleep. Now he’s beginnin’ to see things with his eyes open.”
Everybody looked severely at Bumpus. Thad knew the ways of the fat boy as well as any one could. And he understood that the other could not keep a straight face when attempting anything like a practical joke. A whimsical little grin would always betray Bumpus to shrewd and searching eyes.
But just then he had a solemn look. Bumpus even seemed to be aggrieved that his word should be so lightly taken.
“But I ain’t foolin’, I tell you,” he persisted. “I really and truly did see somethin’ that looked like a man’s face, peek in at that window!”
“Oh! hear him beginning to hedge, would you?” cried Davy, fiercely. “First it was a man, and a white man too. Now he says it just looked like a man. Pretty soon he’ll up and admit that he thought he saw something moving out there; and when we rush out to hunt around, I guess we’ll find only the limb of a tree that waves in the night wind. Oh! you Bumpus, we know you, all right!”
“Oh! very well, if you don’t believe me when I say so, and hold up my hand this way, why, I haven’t got another thing to say,” grumbled the fat boy. “But if I didn’t see a face there, why, I’ll, yes, I’ll eat my hat.”
“After all,” remarked Thad, whom the guides had been watching, to take their cue from his actions, “it ought to be easy to prove Bumpus’ statement one way or the other.”
“How’s that, Thad?” asked Step Hen.
“Why, all we have to do is to ask Sebattis here, or Eli, or Jim, to step outside and look for tracks!” remarked the patrol leader.
“Well what do you think of that for a bright lot of scouts?” laughed Giraffe. “That’s what we ought to have thought of the first thing. And the sooner they get busy, the quicker we’ll know whether Bumpus saw anything, or just thought he did.”
Thad turned on the guides, and smiling, nodded his head. With that signal, which they easily understood, both Eli and the Indian darted over to the fire; while the boys watched them curiously.
“Oh! it’s torches they’re after!” exclaimed Bumpus, seeing the guides picking out blazing brands that, to their practiced eyes, offered all the advantages which a lantern might supply.
Doubtless one of the three men would have hastened to the door and pushed out to investigate, as soon as Bumpus raised his racket; only, hearing Giraffe making fun of the fat boy, they suspected it was only a prank he might be playing; and none of them wished to be caught as the victim of a practical joke.
The door was somewhat difficult to open, but stout Jim threw his weight upon it, and had a passage for his fellow guides when they were ready to step out.
Of course every one of the scouts hustled after, even Bumpus, which fact seemed to speak well for his sincerity. Thad himself secretly believed that there might be something in what Bumpus had said; and he prepared himself to hear such an announcement from one of the two who were intending to look for signs.
The very first thing both Sebattis and Eli did, after emerging from the hut, was to swing their torches violently around their heads. These made a hissing sound and the strange action quite aroused the curiosity of some of the scouts.
“Whatever are they doing that for?” asked Step Hen.
“Looks like they might be signallin’ to somebody, and sayin’ ‘it’s all off,’” Davy remarked.
But somehow Giraffe, knowing all about fires, and what uses they could be put to, laughed at their dense ignorance.
“Why, don’t you see,” he declared with an air of superior wisdom, “when they whirl ’em around swiftly that way, it starts the flame to burning more fiercely, and so they get better light. See, what did I tell you? Ain’t they burnin’ to beat the band now? Talk about your electric torch, bah! it ain’t in the same class with a good live firebrand.”
Both the Penobscot Indian and the old Maine guide had pushed close up under the window by this time. It was seen that they carefully watched where they were stepping, as though not wanting to interfere with any tracks that might happen to lie there.
Bumpus in particular watched their every move as though fascinated. His veracity had been attacked by his fellow scouts, and he was waiting to see them “eat humble pie” pretty soon; for a face could not appear at the little dusty window without having connection with a human body; and that in turn could not get there save through the aid of a pair of legs; which would be connected with feet that must leave some sort of trail.
No doubt that was the way Bumpus was figuring it out, as he stood back with the others, and watched.
Eli evidently realized that though he might be an experienced hand at all such things as finding tracks and following them, under difficulties that might daunt many men, he could hardly expect to place himself in the same class with a genuine son of the forest.
Therefore, Thad noticed that the old Maine guide seemed to purposely allow Sebattis to have the leading chance. He might know more than the Indian on many subjects, but was ready to “play second fiddle” as Giraffe expressed it, when there was a trail to discover, or read.
Hardly had the red guide reached the side of the cabin near the window, than he made a slight motion with his hand. Eli had evidently been waiting for some such signal as this. He quickly moved over to where the other bent down; and the two of them seemed to be looking closely at something.
A minute later they moved forward, a step at a time, and evidently following some tracks that were plainly marked upon the ground.
“Huh!” chuckled Bumpus; only that and nothing more; but the one word contained a world of meaning, and must have given him great satisfaction.
Perhaps, had he happened to be next to Giraffe, instead of Thad, he might have given the long-legged scout a sly dig in the ribs, and in this way let him understand that he believed his vindication in a fair way of being made complete.
“They’ve got something, that’s sure,” declared Davy Jones.
“And now they’re right under the window, too.” added Step Hen. “Guess Bumpus wasn’t dreamin’ after all. He saw a face, all right. Look at ’em movin’ off now. Say, Thad, you don’t think they’re goin’ to try and follow the owner of that face up till they get him, do you?”
“Well, hardly,” returned the patrol leader. “I suppose they just want to make sure he did skip out, after he saw Bumpus had discovered him. And that looks like the fellow hardly cared to join our family circle.”
“But who under the sun could he be, Thad?” asked Step Hen. “If there’s more or less game around these diggings p’raps some trapper’s made up his mind to stay up here all winter, and take pelts. When he saw our crowd, he was that disgusted he just pulled up stakes, and lit out for all he was worth.”
“I think you’re away off there, Step Hen,” declared Giraffe. “Now, if I was asked my opinion, which nobody seems to care shucks for, I’d say that feller might be one of the two guides Mr. James W. Carson took into the woods with him. You see, I reckon there’s a heap of jealousy between all these same guides; and it galled him to know that after they’d gone and fetched the gentleman away up here, promisin’ that he’d have all the big game huntin’ he wanted, without being bothered by any other party, they had to run smack up against a pack of Boy Scouts, out on a trip. That’s why he scooted the way he did, I say.”
Giraffe looked toward Thad, as though wishing he would speak up, and either substantiate his opinion, or else advance a new one. But the patrol leader was closely watching the guides, and made no remark.
Sebattis and Eli had not gone far away. They seemed to be satisfied with following the trail just a little distance; and then turning, came back. Arriving under the window again they beckoned the others to approach.
“Don’t walk over this patch right hyar, boys,” warned the old guide, pointing down close to his feet; and from this they understood that the marks lay there.
“It’s thar, all right, Thad,” remarked Eli, with a grin. “Seems like the boy, he was right arter all, an’ sum critter was a peekin’ in at us.”
Both Thad and Allan of course looked down at the ground. The guides held their blazing pine-knots closer, so that they could see better.
The impression of human foot could not be easily mistaken for the track of any sort of wild beast. Even the most ignorant tenderfoot scout that ever joined a troop must have known that fact at a glance.
But the patrol leader and the Maine boy seemed to discover something about the imprint of a shoe that caused them to stare. The balance of the scouts realized that something was about to happen beyond the ordinary: for they pushed in closer, and waited for either of the two experts to advance an opinion.
Allan looked at Thad, and the other returned his glance with a nod.
“Seen that track before, eh, Allan?” Thad remarked.
“I sure have, for a fact,” replied the Maine lad, positively.
“Remember how you found a footprint at that other camp of ours, before the sheriff came along; it had a patch across the sole, and so has this one. So it stands to reason that the same fellow made both prints. And didn’t Sheriff Green tell us the leader of those hobo burglars wore a shoe that had just this same criss-cross patch on the sole? That looks like we might be somewhere close to that bunch of rascals right now; and that the sheriff must have gone off on the wrong scent.”
The other scouts listened to all this with wide-open eyes, and expressions of both amazement and eagerness; but it was Giraffe who voiced their feelings when he exclaimed, drawing in a long breath:
“Wow! and again I say, wow!”
“Told you so!” Bumpus could not refrain from saying, in triumph.
Thad turned on him.
“Suppose you let us know what the fellow looked like, Bumpus?” he remarked. “If we happen on him in any of our wanderings, it might be just as well that we knew the kind of customer we have to deal with. Can you describe him?”
“I’m afraid not, Thad,” replied the fat boy, a little dejectedly. “You see, just as quick as he caught sight of me turning my eyes up there, he ducked. And all I saw was that he had a face, and a kinder hairy one at that.”
“Oh! you mean he wore a beard?” asked the other.
“Sure he did,” was the reply. “That’s what made me wonder whether it might have been a monkey of some sort, even if I didn’t say as much to Giraffe when he was kidding me. But I happened to remember that ordinary monkeys don’t grow up here in Maine,” and the suggestive look he shot in the direction of Davy made that comrade sneer; as though he had grown hardened to being classed with the tree-climbing tribe, just because he could hang by his toes from a limb, or go up to the tiptop of any tree that he had ever seen.
“Well, he came, and he saw; but he didn’t conquer, not by a long sight,” observed Step Hen. “He didn’t like our looks one little bit, fellows, and made tracks out of here. What d’ye s’pose brought him around, in the first place?”
“Mout a be’n jest passin’, an’ seein’ our light in hyar, thort he’d cum ter look us up. If he’s thet kind o’ a varmint, he mebbe thort as how thar was good pickin’s ter be bed. But he knows better now.”
It was Eli who advanced this opinion. Thad had another one that was based on certain facts obtained from the Maine sheriff who had dropped in on their camp so unexpectedly.
“If that was the man called Charley Barnes,” he said, “you must remember that we heard he used to be a guide up in this country long ago, before he took to his present calling. And in that case, why, perhaps he may have known of this old cabin here, and was coming to see if it would make a half-way decent place to stay for a while. Perhaps one of his friends is sick; or it might be they feel that they just have to hold over somewhere, so as to lay in a stock of food. That’s an idea the sheriff had, I recollect; and he wanted to keep so hot on their track that they’d find no time for hunting, and must get hungry.”
“Well, it was a man, anyway, wasn’t it?” asked Bumpus, demurely; for he felt that Giraffe owed him an apology of some sort.
“Yes, it was a man,” admitted that worthy, frankly; “and for once you’ve got a bulge on me, Bumpus. Rub it in all you want to; my hide’s about as thick as the skin of a rhinoceros, and I c’n stand it easy.”
“Oh! that’s all right, Giraffe,” replied the other, ready to forgive, now that things were coming his way; “I was only thinkin’ how queer it seems to have them hobo burglars huntin’ us up. Remember what I said about that fat reward we’d get, if we happened to pull ’em in? A big thousand dollars, Mr. Green said it was; and p’raps double that by now. Well, funnier things have happened, understand, than a pack of Brave Scouts, tried and true, rounding up a bunch of cowardly hoboes. We can do it, fellers, and not half try, if we get the chance.”
Again Thad thought it one of the queerest things he had ever seen, to watch how the fire of enthusiasm seemed to burn within the breast of the usually rather timid and backward Bumpus Hawtree. Evidently he had his mind set on that reward; and could see how splendidly it would come in for the patrol, in paying the expenses of another long vacation trip they had in mind.
“Wonder if he’ll come back any more?” remarked Step Hen, as they began to move into the cabin again, there being no further reason for remaining out in the cold.
“I reckon now, he saw all he wanted, and didn’t care about waiting to be introduced to such a gang,” Giraffe chuckled.
“Speak for yourself, Giraffe,” remarked Davy, disdainfully.
“I just can’t get over Bumpus, here, showing such a strong desire to grab these burglar fellers,” Giraffe went on. “What’s comin’ over him, do you think? We never used to think him daring or bold. He always said his heft kept him from joining in with the rest of the boys, when they skated over a ‘ticklish bender’ in the ice; and that it’d sure break with him. Same way about doin’ a lot of stunts. Now here he is, tryin’ to copy after Davy Jones in some of his monkey-shines; and makin’ the rest of us look like thirty cents when it comes to wantin’ to surround these here ferocious hoboes, and take ’em prisoners.”
Bumpus shrugged his fat shoulders, and tried to look indifferent.
“Huh! that’s because you never really knew what I had in me,” he said, calmly, though Thad could see the merry twinkle in his eyes; “It ain’t always the savage lookin’ feller that turns out a real hero, when the time comes around. Often the quiet, modest, retirin’ sort of chap jumps in, and saves the drownin’ child.”
“Oh; and that’s you, is it?” demanded Giraffe, as he settled himself down in his blanket, ready to try for a little sleep.
“Everything seems to be comin’ my way,” replied Bumpus, proudly. “All you have to do is to wait for the turn of the tide. I’m feelin’ just joyful. let me tell you;—all but one thing;” he added, hastily. “If I only knew about that letter business. Did I deliver it at the bank; or was I silly enough to forget, and lose it? Sometimes I c’n just see myself walkin’ in through the door of that bank, and deliverin’ the old thing; then it all gets mixed up, and for the life of me I just can’t say one way or t’other. If one of you only remembered seeing me go in, or come out; or if I said anything about handin’ it over, it’d ease my mind a heap, now, I tell you.”
Every time Bumpus got to thinking about that one trouble he lapsed into silence, because he did not seem to get any sympathy from most of his chums; Giraffe and Davy in particular being very apt to taunt him on his poor memory. Step Hen was not inclined to say very much, lest he draw the vials of the fat boy’s wrath down on his own head; for as we know, Step Hen had a failing himself in the line of forgetting what he had done with things he owned.
Once more the boys crawled under their blankets. Each of them had managed to manufacture some sort of a pillow. One had taken his clothes bag, and this example several of the rest copied, as suiting their wants exactly. Bumpus, lacking enough material, had gone out to the canoe and brought in his old haversack, from which he extracted the very rubber foot bath which he had mentioned to his chums as belonging to Smithy. This he crammed half full of other things, and declared it made as soft a pillow as anybody wanted.
“Better cover that rubber with a towel, or something like it,” remarked Thad.
“But this feels so nice and cool,” complained Bumpus.
“It may now, all right, but after a while, when you sleep, it’ll begin to draw like everything; and the chances are, you’ll look like a boiled lobster on one side of your face by morning. I’ve been there myself, and know how it smarts and burns.”
“Thank you, Thad, for the advice, and I’ll take advantage of it right away,” declared the stout scout, sweetly. “Ain’t it the best thing ever to have a chum or two along, like Thad and Allan, who know so many things? Why, if it wasn’t for them, the rest of us would look like the babes in the woods.”
“Let up on that chatter, please, Bumpus,” grumbled Step Hen. “It’s gettin’ awful late, and we ought to been asleep long ago.”
“Yes, button up, Bumpus, I’d rather hear you snore than talk just now,” came from under the blanket that Giraffe had wrapped himself in, much after the style of a mummy.
“All right. I’ll just lie on my back, then, and try to accommodate you,” the other shot back.
“I’ve got one of my shoes handy, remember, and if you so much as give one little snort I mean to shy it over in that corner,” Giraffe threatened.
The guides had been talking quietly among themselves, and when Thad saw Sebattis open the door and slip out, he could give a pretty good guess what the Indian meant to do. Perhaps he suspected that the hoboes, lacking a boat with which to make their flight easier as long as the river continued navigable, might return in numbers later in the night, in order to help themselves from the stock of Oldtown canvas canoes owned by the scouts’ party.
Yes, the shrewd Penobscot Indian did not mean that such a disaster should come to pass; and doubtless he and his fellow-guides had arranged for sentry duty by turns during the entire night.
Thad felt perfectly secure with such wide-awake videttes to look out for the approach of the enemy. He would have gladly taken his turn on post if asked; but it seemed as though the three guides considered that a part of their duty. They had an easy enough task as it was, with these boys so willing to paddle in turn, make fires, help cook the meals, and do all sorts of things that generally the guide has fall on his shoulders alone.
Presently silence fell upon the cabin. The fire smouldered on the great hearth, and occasionally flamed up, only to die down again. If it got very low, some one who happened to be awake at the time, was supposed to quietly get up, and put more fuel on; this had been anticipated, and there was plenty under the shelter of the cabin roof.
Perhaps Bumpus believed that Giraffe really meant that dire threat he made in connection with his heavy shoe; at any rate he did not venture to lie on his back at all, and therefore failed to emit anything that could be called a snore.
Hours crept on, and the night wore away. Some of the scouts never woke up once from the time they dropped off to sleep until the delightful odor of boiling coffee gave them to understand that dawn was at hand, and Jim getting breakfast ready for the whole outfit.
That caused the last of them to climb out, and there was more or less chattering as they went outside to try and find water that was not icy cold, in order to wash their faces, and chase the last remnants of sleep from their eyes.
“I wonder,” said Bumpus, looking up at the brightening sky, and trying to keep from shivering as he dashed water over his rosy face; “if this is goin’ to be a good day for bee tree huntin’; because I’ll never be happy till I’ve seen what a real honey hole looks like.”
“But remember,” warned Giraffe, solemnly, “we ain’t fillin’ our kettles an’ bath tubs with the honey. I know where a heap of it c’n be stowed away right now; and that’s all I’m thinkin’ about. Hey! there’s Jim rattling the frying-pan with that big spoon. I reckon breakfast’s ready, before we are. Get a move on, Bumpus!”
“Where’s Sebattis?” asked Step Hen, as they sat down to breakfast, there being a rude table in the cabin, around which the boys could gather; though the guides had to hold off, and either wait, or else munch their food elsewhere.
“That’s a fact; I thought there was somebody missing!” exclaimed Bumpus.
Somehow or other they all looked toward Thad, as though he might be able to give an explanation. And sure enough, he did.
“Why, he beckoned to me about the time I came out,” the scoutmaster remarked, “and told me he was going to take a little turn along the trail of that man. He hasn’t come back yet; so I guess he’s been able to follow it some distance.”
“That sounds real woodsy now,” declared Giraffe. “Following the trail for me. I’m struck on everything that seems like Cooper’s Leatherstocking. Wonder whether he c’n keep it right up till he drops in on the crowd? P’raps they ain’t so very far away from here, after all.”
“But I just saw Sebattis pass the window; there he is comin’ in right now,” observed Step Hen.
The dusky-skinned guide was indeed entering the door. And no one could tell by looking at his inscrutable face whether Sebattis had met with success or disappointment in his recent labors.
From the fact of his coming back so soon Thad rather imagined that the latter must be the case. He knew the Indian would volunteer no explanation unless asked questions; and so Thad managed to corner him while he was fixing his elkskin moccasins over by the fire. When presently the patrol leader came back to the rest of the scouts, he was greeted by numerous demands that he communicate what he had learned.
“Sebattis followed the tracks for some distance,” Thad went on to say, as he poured himself another cup of coffee; “but after the fellow got a certain distance from the cabin, he began to be more cautious. It was just as if he thought some one might want to follow him, and he did not mean they should succeed. At any rate, he covered his tracks so that even Sebattis was unable to find the trail again.”
“Then it’s sure a fact that the hobo must be some woodsman himself,” Giraffe declared. “I thought an Indian could follow the trail of a fox, if he wanted.”
“Well, Sebattis said he was willing to go back again, and try further, and that he believed he could find the trail again; but he wanted to make sure first that we cared enough about it. From certain remarks he had heard some of us make, he thought we didn’t care to make the acquaintance of the rascals. We even said, you may remember, fellows, that we hadn’t lost any hoboes that we knew of, and didn’t mean to go out of our way to find any. And so Sebattis came back to report.”
“What did you tell him, Thad?” asked Step Hen.
“Why,” replied the other, “that so long as they didn’t interfere with us, we had no reason to bother our heads about these men. We had plenty of things on hand, as it was, without trying burglar catching. If they only let us alone, and didn’t run across our path, we’d forget there were any such chaps in the Maine woods.”
“Just think of the lost chance to lay in a big wad of the long green, enough to carry us all the way across the continent, and see something of the Far West, like we’ve often talked about,” whined Bumpus.
Thad was indeed surprised to hear the fat boy talk like this, for Bumpus was, as a rule, a very peaceful boy, never willingly seeking trouble. Really, this anxiety in connection with that valuable letter, which he could not place, try as he would, seemed to have upset him entirely, so that he was no longer the same jolly Bumpus of old.
“Which would you rather do to-day, Bumpus,” the scoutmaster asked; “try and find these desperate men, and like as not get the whole of us into trouble; or hunt for a bee tree with Allan; while Davy and myself go with Eli for a hunt?”
There was no hesitation now, for with a wide grin Bumpus shouted:
“Bee tree, first, last and all time for mine!”
“Ditto here!” Giraffe followed by saying, as he laid a hand on the pit of his stomach, and bowed.
“Can you make the try, Allan?” queried the stout scout, turning appealingly in the direction of the second in command of the patrol.
“Do for goodness’ sake oblige the little fellow,” urged Giraffe. “Because we’ll sure hear of nothing else every hour of the day. When that feller gets a thing on his mind he makes me think of the woman in the sleeping car, who kept saying out loud in the night, again and again; ‘Oh! I am so thirsty; I am so thirsty!’ till a traveler, who couldn’t sleep, got up, and went and gave her a cup of water. He was just tryin’ to drop off again when she started in, and this time she kept sayin’, ‘Oh! I was so thirsty! I was so thirsty!’ Then he gave up tryin’ to get a snooze till she tired out. And that’s the way with Bumpus, boys.”
“But can we make the try this morning, Allan?” persisted the stout boy, when the laugh at his expense had died away.
“Better say yes, and save yourself a heap of trouble,” suggested Step Hen, who was himself a little anxious to see how the search might be conducted.
“Well,” remarked Allan, “nothing can be done until about noon. If the sun seems fairly warm then, we might have a chance to see bees flying, or catch the drone of the swarm of young ones trying their wings just outside the opening of the tree hive. I’ll set you all to work watching and listening; and we’ll see who the lucky one will be.”
“Seems to me a lot of fellows make a living, picking up things in these Maine woods, from honey and bees wax, to lumbermen and pulp stuff choppers?” Thad remarked, with an inquiring glance toward Allan.