Silence once more rested on the scene. More minutes passed by—five, ten, fifteen dragging along.
Giraffe was just about to touch Allan on the arm again, and tell him he really could not stand it, he was so cold, when he heard a strange little sound that made him forget all about it. In a second, it seemed, his heart got to pounding away at such a lively rate that he actually felt hot all over.
Was that a real “sniff, sniff” that came to his ears? He strained his hearing, and caught it more plainly now; and besides, he could detect a shuffling sound, such as would indicate the presence of a large body moving along.
It approached the scene of the wrecked tree hive; and a minute later, while Giraffe almost held his breath with anxiety, he caught other sounds that told him the hairy honey thief had set to work gulping down the scattered combs so full of sweetness, with a greed that even excelled his own love for the product of the hive.
Apparently it was about time something were doing, unless they meant to allow the bear to fill himself with the honey, in the hope that while in this condition he might fall an easier prey.
Then came a nudge in the side from Allan. Giraffe knew what this meant. He had been warned that when the time for action had arrived Allan would give him such a dig; and that he was to prepare to take aim and fire, for the little electric torch would flash immediately afterward.
All of a sudden the bear gave a snort. The intense darkness had been dispelled by a brilliant ray of light. Well had Allan judged the location of the honey thief, for Giraffe could instantly see the bear standing there, with upraised head, staring straight toward the point from whence that mysterious light sprang.
His side was fortunately toward them. Giraffe thought it looked almost as big as the famous red barn; and as he glanced along the extended barrel of his father’s rifle he tried to control his nerves.
“Shoot!” came in a shrill whisper from Allan, who feared lest the other might be so panic stricken that he could not pull trigger.
And obeying the injunction, Giraffe did shoot, the crash of the rifle being almost immediately drowned in a terrible roar that burst forth.
“Again! give him another shot!”
Giraffe heard this shouted close to his ear, and mechanically working the pump action of the heavy repeating rifle which his father had carried for quite some years on his hunting trips up in the Adirondacks, he again fired.
“Once more, quick! you’ve got him going; but he’s getting up again!” cried Allan, and so Giraffe did as he was told.
Then he did not see the black hairy mass move any more, though he could hardly believe that he had done what he had expressed such a great ambition to accomplish—shoot a real black bear in his native wilds.
“Good! you’ve finished him, Giraffe!” exclaimed Allan, reaching for the quivering hand of his chum, which he squeezed most heartily. “I’m ever so glad I didn’t have to butt in, and spoil it all. That’s your game for keeps, Giraffe. You’ve got to cut a notch in the stock of your gun after this, because you’re no longer a greenhorn. Come along, and let’s see what he looks like.”
The bear was undoubtedly dead. That last bullet had evidently finished him, although very likely he would never have left that spot after receiving the first and second shots.
“Whew! but ain’t he a buster, though?” ejaculated the delighted hunter, as he cautiously felt of one of the forepaws of the animal.
“We ought to get him out of this before morning,” said Allan; “because the bees will be apt to make it good and warm for us, if we poke in here by daylight. Let’s all get hold, and see if we can’t budge the old critter.”
They found it all they were able to do, to move the bear a few inches at a time; but once clear of the branches of the trees, the task proved easier. By throwing all their weight into each pull, as Jim sang out: “yo heave-o!” they finally managed to get the prize where they wanted him.
“How about leaving him here through the night, Jim?” asked Allan.
“I’d say as how it war safe, if it hadn’t be’n fur thet howl we heard last night,” replied the guide. “If so be wolves is aroun’, they’d clean up this carcase right smart between now an’ daylight.”
“Oh! but I want that hide the worst kind,” declared Giraffe. “Why, whoever’d believe me, if I couldn’t show the skin of the bear I shot?”
Jim took out his knife, and felt the edge.
“Somebody make a fire, so I kin see, and we’ll fix things afore a hour goes past,” he said, simply.
“Let me do it, Allan; you know nobody knows how to build fires as well as I do!” Giraffe exclaimed, laying his gun aside.
He was as good as his word, and had a splendid fire working inside of a very few minutes. The Maine guide was already busily engaged, and Giraffe watched him taking the bear’s hide off with more than common interest; for was it not his bear, and did he not have the right to feel proud? Why, if he had shot poorly, the big beast, rendered savage through pain, might have charged the party; and then there would have been plenty of excitement. Even Allan might have missed, since he could hardly manage to see while trying to hold the torch, and his rifle at the same time; and there would be no telling what must have happened.
After Jim had very deftly taken the hide off, he started in to carve up some of the carcase, taking the choicest portions; for they could only carry a certain amount with them, and the wolves or foxes were quite welcome to the balance.
Indeed, from the grin on Jim’s face, as he used his knife, Allan fancied that the bear was bound to prove about as tough as the moose. But then, hungry boys can masticate what would prove a difficult task to one whose teeth were less sharp; and besides, as that was Giraffe’s bear; of course it would taste especially fine to him.
“Where’d I hit him, Jim?” Giraffe asked, after a time.
“One shot took him on the shoulder,” said Allan, before the guide could reply. “I think that must have been your first. It kind of knocked him over. Then, as he was getting up again, you gave him a second clean through the heart. He kicked after that, but could never have done you any hurt. That was a dandy shot, fired at the time he was moving, too. The last one came in his side, and didn’t amount to so much. But taken in all, you did finely, Giraffe. It speaks well for your nerve.”
“Huh!” grunted the other, who was plainly pleased by Allan’s words nevertheless; “they always did own I had plenty of nerve, you know. Eli Bangs said I had, when I stepped up and took his best girl away from him at that school dance we held out in Epply’s big barn last winter.”
“Got enough, Jim?” asked Allan, as the guide wiped his knife, and put it back in the leather sheath at his belt.
“All we kin kerry,” replied the other, “an’ p’raps twice as much as we’ll eat, I reckons. If so be them wolves is still around, let ’em come ter the feast. I’d like ter git a crack at one of the critters, myself. A wolf I never yet shot, ’cause you see, they be’n so skeerce ever sence I got to totin’ a gun.”
“Well, we might as well head back to the cabin,” Allan remarked. “I see you’ve made that up in two packs, Jim—the hide in one, and the meat in the other?”
“Yep, I thort as how he’d like to kerry the skin, ’cause it’s his’n; I’ll tackle the bundle o’ bear meat,” and the guide slung the heavy load up across his back with the air of one accustomed to making trips across many a carry, toting boats, duffle and bedding, as well as tents.
“All right, that leaves the three guns to me; and if either of you get tired, why, just call on me to take a turn. You’ll find me willing,” said Allan.
But that did not happen. Jim was tough, and accustomed to doing all sorts of burden bearing in his work as a guide, summer and winter, year in and year out. And as for Giraffe, catch him asking anybody else to lug his bearskin along, so long as he was able to put one foot before the other.
He may have grunted from time to time; but when Allan asked if he wanted any assistance Giraffe indignantly denied being weary. And so he carried that heavy green hide all the way to camp.
When they arrived at the cabin they could see by the light through the window that those within still kept the fire going, evidently anticipating the arrival of the bear hunting expedition. They jumped up as the three new arrivals entered, and seeing their packs, with the long black hair of the pelt showing plainly, Step Hen and Bumpus were especially vociferous in their congratulations.
Allan noticed one thing as soon as he had taken his first peep into the cabin. This was that Thad, Davy and Eli had not come back as yet. But he saw no reason to be worried. Thad had taken the pains to notify them that possibly he and his companions might be away longer than a single day; and if they failed to show up after night set in, perhaps they would stay out a second day.
“That settles one thing, anyway,” remarked Bumpus. “We ain’t going to starve, as long as we have such mighty hunters as Thad and Giraffe along with us; even if the meat is tough.”
“It settles a number of things,” remarked Giraffe, fastening his “eagle eye,” as Bumpus liked to term those orbs of the tall scout, severely on Step Hen.
“Oh! I know what you’re talkin’ of now,” declared the other, quickly. “It’s all about that rifle of your dad’s, an’ how it c’n shoot. Now, I never said that it couldn’t do the trick, all right. Goodness knows it’s heavy enough for anything. It was you always pokin’ fun at my little thirty-thirty, and callin’ it a popgun, a squirtgun, and all such things. But I take notice, with all that’s said, it took just three bullets for you to kill that poor bear, that was nearly ready to turn up his toes, an’ die from old age; when Thad, he just fired once, and gave a bull moose in a fighting frame, his walking papers. And think how much easier to tote a light gun like mine twenty miles a day. Ask Jim here, and he’ll tell you he means to get one like mine the next time he finds thirty dollars in the road.”
“I suppose that bear is tough, but don’t you say a thing about him being so old he would have soon kicked the bucket You know better than that, Step Hen. Don’t all of us believe that this is the same bear we chased out’n the cabin here, only last night; and say, what did he do to you and Bumpus? Seems to me you wanted us all to know that you’d been thrown ten or twenty feet outside the door, when that poor weakly old sinner as you call him, just breezed past you. Now, that will be quite enough from you, Step Hen. The tougher he was, the more glory for the feller that shot him.”
After this broadside from Giraffe the other scout relapsed into silence; indeed, he could find nothing to say.
“It’s gettin’ pretty late, seems to me,” Bumpus remarked, with a yawn.
“Yes, it is, for kids,” added Giraffe, a little contemptuously; for somehow Step Hen had aroused his fighting blood and he seemed to have a chip on his shoulder, daring any one to knock it off.
“But what’s the use waitin’ up to see if Thad gets back?” argued the short scout.
“There’s no use at all,” remarked Allan, just then; “because I think I hear them coming along right now. How about it, Sebattis?”
“Three come, Thad, Davy, Eli,” replied the Indian, gravely; for Allan had first had his attention called to the slight sounds without by noticing that Sebattis was sitting with his head cocked in a listening attitude.
“I’d like to understand how he knows that,” muttered Giraffe, who had edged over toward the corner where his gun stood, as though a little suspicious of the identity of those who were even now at the door; for he remembered that there were exactly three of those lawless hoboes loose in the woods, and not far away.
But immediately the door opened, to admit Thad; and after him came Davy; while the weather-beaten face of the old Maine guide, Eli Crooks, showed up in the rear.
Each of the three hunters carried some sort of burden, though not of any great size, Allan noticed. These they tossed down in a corner, with the air of being more or less tired from a long tramp.
And Allan, accustomed to reading faces more than might the average boy, believed that he saw something like a frown upon all three countenances, that certainly must have been caused by something besides fatigue.
“Venison?” questioned Giraffe, just itching to have the newcomers ask what luck had fallen to the share of the bee hunters, when he could hold up that prized bearskin, and tell how he alone had shot the monster Bruin.
“Yes, what little of it was left to us,” replied Davy, crossly.
“Why, whatever happened?” demanded Bumpus. “I wonder now, did you run across any of those savage wolves we heard howling last night?”
“Oh! not much,” replied Thad, smiling; “that would have been a picnic—for us. But we had an experience that beat that all hollow. Fact is, we were fired at by some of those hoboes who are up here in the woods for their health, and safety!”
“Wow! and again I say, wow!” broke out Giraffe, although rather feebly; for the astounding admission made by Thad seemed to have almost taken his breath away.
“Fired—on—by—the—hobo burglars?” gasped Bumpus.
“Sounds kind of interestin’, Thad; s’pose you tell us more about it?” suggested Step Hen; who, strange to say, appeared to treat the matter in a less serious vein than any of his companions.
Sebattis had raised his head at hearing what the newcomer said, and was evidently taking note; Jim shut his teeth hard together, and assumed what he no doubtless believed to be his “fighting face”; and he certainly looked fierce enough, Bumpus thought, happening to glance that way.
“Well, let’s have a bite to eat, first, and after that’s done with, I’ll tell you all there is to the story,” declared Thad, who was evidently “some tired,” as Giraffe liked to put it.
Then there was a hustle, as every one tried to do something about the fire, so as to hurry things along; for it became evident that Thad was in no humor to talk until he had refreshed the inner man.
“Some of you fellers go back and sit down; there’s quite too many cooks around here, and it hinders things more than it helps. Jim and me c’n get along faster if left alone,” and with these words Giraffe “shooed” Step Hen and Davy into the background.
Presently the coffee was boiling, and there was a scent of cooking food in the air. While the three returned hunters were munching their supper the others hovered around. Seconds seemed like minutes to them; while the latter took on the shape of long hours, so impatient were the boys to hear what had happened.
But after a time Thad announced that he was satisfied; and assuming a comfortable attitude, he started in to talk, the others hanging on his every word, and frequently interrupting to ask questions, when a certain point was not wholly understood.
“We tramped all morning, and never started any game worth bagging,” he began. “Of course, there were partridges, and if we hadn’t been out after deer we might have brought in a good-sized bag of the birds. But you know how it is—when you’ve got your mind made up to have venison, these other things only annoy you.”
“All the same,” remarked Giraffe, “partridges are mighty fine eating; and I’m going to bring in a bunch some of these fine days, if Davy’ll loan me his gun.”
As yet nothing had been said about the bee tree, or the black thief Giraffe had bagged; and the boy was holding the news back, in order to spring it on the deer hunters, in order to show them that they were not the only ones who had met with an adventure since sun-up that morning.
“At nooning,” Thad went on to say, paying no attention to the interruption, for he knew the failings of Giraffe only too well; “we stopped to eat our snack, and figure out which way we wanted to tramp between then and night. Eli had his mind set on getting a deer, and all of us were willing to stay out till we had dropped one, even if it took all of to-morrow.
“Then once more we made a start, changing our course, and intending to cover a larger territory, by making a big sweep. And about three in the afternoon we managed to start up a nice fat young buck, which fell to our rifles.”
Davy was seen making motions with his hands just at this juncture, and the others had little difficulty in reading the signs to mean that in reality the said fat young buck had fallen to the rifle of the speaker, Thad, himself; and if the others could claim any share in the glory, it was small indeed.
“We hung the prize up,” Thad went on, “intending to come back for him a couple of hours later; since Eli had an idea we might scare up another deer in the country just beyond; and Davy was wild for a chance to try his buckshot cartridges on one.”
“But it wasn’t any use,” broke in Davy just then. “We just tramped and tramped till even Eli said there didn’t seem to be any more deer moving just then. Besides, I complained of sore feet; and I guess that was one reason why the others determined to turn back, pick up our young buck, and strike for home.”
“The place where we had left the deer was about seven miles from here, down the wind,” Thad continued; “and we just knew that with that tramp ahead, carrying what we wanted of the deer, it would take us a good time to get here. But no matter, we headed straight for the spot which Eli had marked down in his mind as being the big tree, to a limb of which we had hoisted our game.
“On the way, Davy, who had changed his shells, knocked over a couple of partridges very neatly. They are in one of those bundles there. I only mention this fact because Eli believes that the discharge of the double-barrel gun had something to do with what followed.
“Pretty soon we came in sight of the big tree; at least it looked mighty like the one we meant to find; but we had to rub our eyes, and look again; for do you know, there wasn’t any deer at all hanging there? Eli said he had made no mistake, and Davy was as sure as I was that it must be our tree all right.
“Just then one of us discovered that there was something lying at the foot of the tree, that had the look of a deer, and we hurried forward. Davy hadn’t forgotten about the wolves we heard howling, and was saying that they must have dragged the buck down in some way. But Eli knew better, and that it could not be the work of any wolf that ever trotted on four legs.
“Then we came closer, and saw a sight that made us furious,” Thad went on, a frown on his usually placid brow. “There was our lovely little buck, all carved up as fine as you please, and by one who knew just how to do the business, too. The best pieces had been carried away, and we were left only what might have done for the foxes or wolves!”
“Whew!” burst out the impulsive Giraffe, “say, that was enough to make anybody as mad as hops. I can just see Davy here jumping around like fun. Of course you looked for a trail, didn’t you, Thad?”
“That was the very first thing we did,” resumed the other; “and there wasn’t any trouble about finding one either; for Eli said they had jumped off in such a big hurry he just knew they must have heard Davy’s shots, and expected that we were coming back for our game. Well, there wasn’t any use crying over spilt milk, boys. But we were so much upset by our misfortune, and so mad at those fellows, that we just started off on their trail.”
“Meaning to hold them up, if only you overtook the bunch?” suggested Bumpus, who was listening with all eagerness, his eyes round with interest.
“Oh! well, none of us hardly knew what we meant to do,” Thad answered; “I rather guess our only thought just then was to try and recover the fine venison those two rascals had robbed us of.”
“Then there wasn’t three of them again?” asked Giraffe, quickly; and Thad smiled as he turned toward the tall scout, saying:
“I was just wondering whether any of you would notice that, when I said it; but the fact is, there were only a pair of ’em; and Eli’s about come to the conclusion the third man must be sick, or badly wounded. Well, we did start off at a hot pace, Eli of course doing most of the trailing.”
“But just hold on there, Thad,” interrupted Davy Jones; “you know well enough that three separate times you found the tracks when Eli had lost the trail; and didn’t he say prompt enough that, for a boy, you certainly did show a heap of smartness?”
“I think we must have followed that trail about a mile;” Thad went on, giving Davy a smile for his compliment; “and it was beginning to get dusk a little, when all of a sudden a gun banged away, somewhere ahead, and we heard the whine of a bullet passing over close above our heads.”
“Say,” and again Davy broke in to express his own individual feelings in the matter, “none of you fellers ever was shot at, and I just guess now you can’t understand the queer feeling it gives you. I felt like the pit of my stomach had kind of caved in, and there was a gnawing just like you have when you’re awful hungry. And when Thad says that there bullet ‘whined’ over our heads, he hits the mark all right, for that’s what it sounded like. I dropped flat on my face in the scrub, and lay as still as a ’possum playing dead.”
“We all dodged some, I imagine,” remarked Thad, with a smile at Davy’s words. “I know I found myself behind a tree in pretty short order. Eli began to creep up, and it seemed rather exciting about that time. Even Davy and myself started to advance. And pretty soon there was Eli, calling to us to come on, because there was no longer any danger, for the birds had flown.”
“Skipped out, just like that,” and Davy, snapped his fingers contemptuously; “all the while we kept laying low, and trying to see if we could glimpse anything to bang away at. It was bad luck.”
“Well,” Thad resumed his story by saying, “with the night at hand, and the two venison thieves a good half mile away by that time, even Eli saw that it was useless trying to overhaul ’em. So we concluded to make our way back to where our buck had lain, take what we could get of the remains, and then start by slow stages for the cabin here. But we had little to say on the way, for it seemed more like a funeral procession than the return of a victorious hunting party.”
“And I’ll own up I was pretty nigh tuckered out,” admitted Davy. “That’s one reason why Eli and Thad decided to come along home. Been limpin’ the better part of the way, and I guess I’ve got a stone bruise on my heel that don’t feel any too fine. But I’ll be all right to-morrow, fellers; and then just see what we do to them that would take the bread away from your mouth, if they had the chance.”
The others looked to Thad, as though what Davy had just said gave them a cue.
“Is that the game, to go back there in the mornin’, an’ take up the trail?” asked Giraffe, excitedly.
“This here seems to be the real thing, all wool, and a yard wide,” muttered Bumpus; and then brightening up, he continued, with increasing earnestness: “and then, if we should find a chance to capture those slippery rascals, just think what we could do with all the nice money that’s offered for their apprehension? Didn’t our friend the sheriff say it was a whole thousand, and might be twice that by now? Count me in, Thad, I want you to know, if we’re going to round up these bank burglars. You may wonder why I’m so fierce about it; but you forget that my dad is the president of our bank at Cranford; and who knows but what it might a been that institution these hoboes looted. I’ve got a personal interest in this matter, and I ain’t going to be left out of any deal either, just remember that!”
“Do you really think they meant to shoot you, Thad?” asked Step Hen, after the fat boy had quieted down somewhat.
“We’ve been talking that over,” the patrol leader replied; “and come to the conclusion that the shot was only meant as a warning for us to draw up, and haul off; to tell us that they were desperate men, and would not stand for any nonsense from a hunting party.”
“But that bullet did whine, I tell you, fellers;” declared Davy, emphatically; “no other word would explain just how it sounded, when she went zipping past, so close to our heads that we all ducked without thinkin’.”
“And like as not,” remarked Allan, who thus far had taken no part in the discussion, “if we start taking up their trail in the morning, and come anywhere close to our birds, we’ll be apt to more than hear the whine of a bullet. They’re bad men, Sheriff Green told us, and if put in a hole, with a chance of spending some years in prison, wouldn’t mind wounding a few of us—perhaps worse than that, even.”
Thad looked serious.
“I’ve been considering that matter,” he announced, “and trying to make up my mind just what a party of Boy Scouts, caught in such a puzzle, ought to do. If our real scoutmaster, Dr. Philander Hobbs, was only here, that would be a question for him to decide. I wish we had him along with us right now.”
“And the rest of us are mighty glad business kept him tied down at home, just at the time we had this great chance to come up into the Maine woods,” chuckled Step Hen.
“You’re as able to settle anything as well as Dr. Philander,” declared Allan. “And so, please let us know what came of your thinking this subject over; because we all know you too well, Thad, to believe you’d ever drop it without hatching out some sort of a scheme.”
“That’s the ticket; we all want to know,” echoed Bumpus.
Of course this sort of talk must have been exceedingly pleasant to the young patrol leader. He would not have been a boy had he not been thrilled by this showing of confidence which his chums placed in his ability as a manager and scoutmaster; and so he hastened to oblige the eager demands of the others.
“While we were tramping along homeward,” Thad continued, “I got to figuring how best we ought to act. You see, somehow that thing of chasing after those toughs didn’t appeal to me very much, after hearing how a lump of lead can sound when it’s passing by so close to your head. And in the end I had an idea. If you think it’s worth anything, why, we might try the same out.”
“Sure we will!” declared Giraffe.
“And we know it’s the right stuff, even before you start in to explain,” Step Hen volunteered.
“Don’t be too sure of that,” laughed Thad; “but here’s the scheme, boys, and let’s hear what you think of it. Now, in the morning, sometime, we’ll just pack up, and start along with our paddles, as if we meant to keep it going through the whole blessed day. But that’ll only be a big bluff, you understand; because, when we’ve got about a mile or so above here, and the coast seems clear, why, we can land, hide our stuff, perhaps leaving one to guard the same, perhaps, and the rest put back to the cabin here.”
“Wow! that’s the thing!” exclaimed Giraffe. “I get the idea, Thad. You expect we’ll hide in here, and gobble the gentlemen up as soon as they come along; ain’t that what you mean, now?”
“Not quite,” said Thad. “It might answer just as well, in case when we got back here we could be sure they hadn’t arrived before us, and were already quartered in the cabin. But if that proved to be the case, why, we’d set to work and try to surprise Charlie Barnes and his pals. You see, whatever we do, we want to keep in the background till we’re just ready to spring our trap; and in that way prevent them from doing us any bodily harm. I’m in charge of the patrol, and I’d feel pretty bad, now, if on going home I had to show up with a bunch of cripples on my hands. That’s what keeps me guessing, and trying to accomplish things without taking too much risk.”
“It’s a good scheme, all right!” commented Step Hen.
“That’s what I say, too,” added Bumpus.
Davy, Allan and Giraffe also declared that they liked the plan immensely; and even Eli Crookes grinned, Jim nodded his head in appreciation; while Sebattis smoked on, and watched Thad admiringly out of the corner of his black eye, as if he had never before run across such a smart lad, and wondered what it meant.
“But of course,” Thad went on to say, “the success of such a plan depends altogether on one thing to begin with.”
“You mean whether they’re bound to come to the cabin here?” asked Allan.
“That’s it,” the scout leader went on, calmly. “I thought that all over carefully, and decided that, judging from the actions of that man in looking in here, as well as their hanging around the vicinity when they had ought to be well on the way to the Canadian border, that there must be some sort of unusual attraction about this same old cabin for those rascals!”
“Go on, Thad; we’re catching on to what you’ve got in mind,” hinted Allan.
“We happen to know,” said Thad; “that this chief hobo, who calls himself Charlie Barnes now, though he may have gone by another name years back, must have been a Maine guide once on a time. If so, he is well acquainted up in this region, and must know all about this abandoned cabin. Now, if so be the third chap is sick, or badly hurt, as we’ve guessed, why, where could they find a better place to stay for a while than right here?”
“Seems like it,” admitted Giraffe; “and say, p’raps that’s just why they cribbed your venison like they did. If they expect to hole up here for some weeks, lyin’ low while the sheriff and his posse go chasin’ all over the country lookin’ for the runaways, why, they’d need a heap of grub; and so they just couldn’t resist the temptation to grab your little buck. It’d supply their wants for a long time, if they only jerked the meat the way the Indians do, and made it into pemmican.”
“Glad to see you take that view of the matter. Giraffe,” Thad continued, for it was always an object with him, as the leader of the patrol, to tempt his scouts to think for themselves, and not depend wholly on others to plan things.
“But Thad,” remarked Allan, about that time,—he had been watching the face of the other for signs that would tell him what Thad had on his mind; “was this the only thing you stirred up, that would be apt to keep these fellows wanting to get in this cabin so badly?”
“Well, honest now, Allan,” replied the other, smilingly, “it wasn’t. I figured along another line too. I said to myself, that supposing now, a year or so ago this same hard case of a Charlie Barnes had made another haul, and escaped to the woods with his plunder, where would he be apt to hide that same until the time when he could add to the pile, and then skip across the border? And boys, I thought that this deserted old cabin would offer him about as snug a hiding-place for his loot as any place I knew!”
“Oh! Thad, do you really think that?” exclaimed Bumpus, a smile appearing on his plump face; “just imagine us diggin’ up treasure, fellers, would you; gold, and jewels, and all sorts of precious things that these desperate yeggs have hooked in their bold operations? And when we restored the same to the original owners, how they’d pour the fat rewards into our pockets. Why, we’d just as like as not have our names in all the papers down in New York, and be famous.”
“Hold on,” said Thad, “you make me think of the girl who was tripping to market with a basket of eggs, and saying to herself, that after she’d sold those she’d buy a pig; and when it grew up, she’d take that money and buy a calf; and then, after that grew up to be a cow, with the money she’d get from selling all the milk she could lay a nice sum by, so that when the right young man came along she’d have enough to get her outfit with, and——”
“Then she tripped once too often, fell over, and every egg was broken,” broke in Bumpus, with a shout. “Sure, I’ve heard my mother tell that story. It means we hadn’t ought to figure too far ahead. But Thad. I want to say, I like your scheme; and in the mornin’ we ought to turn this here old place upside-down, huntin’ in every nook and cranny for the hobo’s plunder.”
“Not forgetting that loft up yonder, where our friend, the bear—” began Giraffe, and suddenly broke off with a laugh, as he remembered that in the other excitement he had forgotten all about his private surprise.
He immediately went and picked up the bearskin, and held it up before the admiring eyes of Thad and Davy, who immediately started to ask innumerable questions.
The story was by degrees told, and the late comers allowed to taste the beautiful honey. Thad declared he had noticed that Bumpus and Giraffe looked a little swollen about the head, but other things had kept him from asking the reason, up to now.
The hour was growing pretty late, but strange to say none of the scouts seemed to feel sleepy but Bumpus, who nodded occasionally as he sat there, trying to listen to the conversation that passed among his mates.
Thad had meanwhile been using his eyes to some advantage. He noticed that the stones about the hearth were rather large, and to his mind one of them had the appearance of having been recently disturbed. Suddenly getting up, as the fire burned low, and afforded him an opportunity to come near without being scorched, Thad worked away for a minute or so, trying to insert his fingers under this certain hearth stone.
“Here, try this for a lever, Thad,” remarked Allan, handing him a thick, short stick; for somehow he had quickly guessed what the other had in his mind, and was naturally intensely interested in the result.
So Thad, by inserting this under the stone, was enabled to raise it up. Breathlessly the others leaned forward to watch the result; for by now of course even the aroused Bumpus had guessed what Thad was doing.
The patrol leader seemed to be fumbling around in some sort of little cavity he had found under the hearth stone. Then, with an exclamation, he drew some object into view, and laid it on the floor. It seemed to be a bundle of old clothes; but when Thad, with eager hands, had unrolled these, the scouts held their very breath at the sight that met their astonished eyes.
Thad had figured it all out, and now they understood just why that leader of the yeggmen was so determined to get into the old abandoned cabin in the woods; he had hidden the proceeds of other robberies there, and wished to take it all along with him when he crossed over into a safe asylum in Canada.