But trees differ; and to his surprise Giraffe failed to find this moss in the quantities he had expected. Evidently then pine trees are in a class by themselves, he concluded.
But there were other ways of finding this out. How about the general slant of the trees? Didn’t his instructor assure him that it only needed one glance around, for an old traveler through the forests to tell where north was? He would notice the slant of the trees, and if there were any lying on the ground, observe the way they had fallen, when overturned by the fierce wind. Why, that ought to be the easiest thing in the world; and Giraffe was beginning to feel quite proud of the knowledge he possessed when suddenly a very disquieting thought flashed through his head.
He knew which was north, east, west and south all right; but how was that to tell him where the old cabin lay? He might guess that in all probability it was somewhere off to the southeast; but that was a pretty big region, and the chances of his finding it might be set down as ten against one.
Evidently, then, something else was needed besides the ability to tell where the north lay. In fact, Giraffe was beginning to realize that a good scout must keep a mental map of the country in his head. He may not need a compass one-half so much as he has a use for constant wakefulness, and the power of observation.
He should be able under such conditions as these to put a finger on a certain point of the rude chart he draws, and say: “here’s where I am right now, and there lies the cabin, exactly sou-south east of me; and I can tell where that quarter is as easy as falling off a log.”
The more Giraffe got to thinking about this subject the more he felt enthusiastic over it. Why, he had really never understood how intensely interesting it was. And then and there the boy determined that he would find out all about it. Allan knew, and Allan was only too willing to instruct his fellow scouts in the arts pertaining to woodcraft.
Practical demonstration is worth many times over what a fellow might learn from books. Take that Indian picture writing, for instance; a boy might read about it, and think it rather interesting; but when taking part in the game himself, puzzling his head over the meaning of the plain pictures of men, animals, camp-fire smoke, canoes, tracks in the dirt, and all such things, he would discover that is was intensely exciting, and liable to beat any game of fox and geese he had ever indulged in.
All this while they were making fair progress on their way.
Sebattis never seemed to swerve once, except to avoid some obstacle. Why, he was evidently as positive about his course as Giraffe might be when walking along a street in Cranford. And doubtless, the trails of the great pine woods were just as familiar to this dusky son of the wilderness as those streets could be to one who had been born and brought up among them.
Giraffe figured that they must be about half-way to the cabin by now, though of course it had to be mere guess work on his part, since he had no means of knowing the facts.
He did notice that Sebattis was growing a little more cautious. And also that Thad, looking around just then as if to see how the others were coming along, and catching the eye of Step Hen, put his finger on his lips, as if in that way he would warn the greenhorn scouts to exercise additional care.
It was certainly getting mighty exciting. Giraffe felt hot and cold by turns; but he would not allow himself for one moment to believe that this sensation had anything to do with the quality called fear.
He gritted his teeth, and put on a severe look. He would show them, if the case came to a point where there must ensue a rough and tumble fight, that because he had subscribed to the peace-loving rules of the scouts, he could at the same time rise to a special occasion, when valor was needed.
Why, this feeling was something the same as that which had attacked him when about to fire his first shot at the big black bear. Allan had described it to him once, when telling him how he must overcome the “buck ague” upon getting his first chance to shoot a deer. And Giraffe was determined to conquer himself now, so that he might not later on feel a tinge of shame when speaking of the way they returned to the cabin, bent on capturing the lawless hoboes.
Why, there was Sebattis bending low now, and advancing with redoubled caution. They must surely be close upon the cabin; perhaps it was even in sight, if one cared to raise his head above the tops of the bushes that together with brushwood and dead treetops lay in the way.
No one could equal Giraffe in such a maneuver as this. Nature had given him the advantage over his fellows when endowing him with that extra long neck. And doubtless the shorter Davy, with his thick neck, envied Giraffe, when he saw how easily the other surmounted difficulties in the way of taking an observation, which were bound to prove a barrier to him.
Sure enough. Giraffe caught a fugitive glimpse of something that looked like the back wall of the old cabin, for he saw neither door nor window. How wonderful that the sagacious Penobscot brave could have taken them directly there; and so far as he, Giraffe, had noticed, without once feeling of the bark of the trees, or even sweeping one glance toward the heavens.
Now that the Indian and Thad had dropped on their knees. Of course the others were expected to do the same, and quickly did they follow suit. It must be a part of the game; indeed, Giraffe would have been sorely disappointed had they failed to go through this same experience. In all the books he had read of forest trailing, and advancing upon an enemy’s camp, it was absolutely necessary to go the last part of the journey on hands and knees. And besides, it added vastly to the interest of the thing, Giraffe thought.
So they crept along, getting gradually nearer and nearer to the cabin. So far as could be seen, all was quiet around that place, just as they had left it, in fact. If the hoboes had already arrived they certainly gave no sign of their presence.
Perhaps Sebattis, with his wonderfully trained ear, was able to catch slight sounds that would not reach some of the rest of them, bunglers at best in the science of woodcraft. He seemed to be advancing with perfect confidence; and yet at the same time Giraffe could not but notice that the dusky-skinned Maine guide always kept his gun in a position for instant use.
It made Giraffe remember what he had once read about the early Virginia and New England settlers, pious men, all of them, to be sure; but realizing that each was expected to do his part in taking care of home and family. Giraffe had often repeated the words of their motto to himself, and figured out just what it meant to say “trust in the Lord; but keep your powder dry.” Sebattis felt perfect confidence in his ability to reach the wall of the cabin unobserved; but at the same time he was always ready for accidents.
But they were now about the end of the little creeping journey, for the grim back wall of the trapper’s old weather-beaten cabin was at hand. One by one the crawlers arrived, and ranged themselves as close as they could, following the example of the two who had reached the goal first.
Giraffe was immediately conscious of some sort of movement within. It was as if a party might be laboring at something that rather tried his muscle; for besides the heavy breathing, there came a rustling noise, and then mutterings.
“Gimme that piece of wood over there, Kimball,” a voice suddenly growled. “This stone sure beats my time, the way she sticks. I never thort she was half as heavy. Throw it acrost to me, if you don’t want to git up. Thet’s the ticket. Now, will you be good, consarn you?”
It gave Giraffe a thrill. He seemed to guess that the speaker must be working at the hearthstone, under which the scouts had found all that wonderful plunder. What would happen when he discovered how the package left there was only a false “dummy,” and that the bank loot had been carried off? Before Giraffe could settle this at all in his mind, he heard the man inside give a little shout.
“It’s all right, Kimball, I tell you! The stuff is here, under the stone, and jest like we left it a year ago. They never once suspected, the innocents, jest how near they was to a fortune. Things is atakin’ another turn, and I reckon our hard luck’s skipped out. This knocks a big load off my shoulders, believe me, Kimball!”
Sebattis was quietly creeping, foot by foot, along the wall of the cabin. Giraffe realized that it was the intention of the guide to make his way along the side, so as to command the front, where the only exit could be found. This they must cover, if they expected to hold the situation.
Old Eli had pushed up alongside the Indian. He seemed to feel that if it came to a case of holding the hoboes up, the desperate rascals would be more apt to surrender if they saw two determined men in the front rank of those who covered them with their guns, than if they believed the whole posse to be made up of inexperienced half-grown Boy Scouts.
Of course this started the others moving also, since no one felt like being left behind. Being close to the wall, it was possible for them to hear what was being said within; for the two men did not speak in anything bordering on whispers. They did not dream of the danger that was hovering over their heads; and the finding of the bundle, apparently undisturbed, seemed to make them both happier than they could have been for some time.
When they reached the corner of the cabin the creepers turned it. Now they had to remember that the little window was here, and that if one of the new inmates of the hut chanced to thrust his face close up to the wonderful sash that had survived all these years of cold and heat, there was danger that they would be discovered, should one of them stray from the wall.
Giraffe was listening to what the men were saying. Somehow there seemed to be a sort of strange fascination about playing the part of eavesdropper in a case like this. But he did not allow himself to get so deeply interested as to forget all idea of caution.
The man with the great, heavy voice he guessed must be the leader, who went by the name of Charlie Barnes. He it had been, Thad and Allan had declared, who led the flight of the hoboes through the great Maine woods. And it had been this fact that seemed to convince the scoutmaster Charlie must at one time have been playing the rôle of guide in these same woods.
Apparently he had not bothered undoing the bundle then, for there was no trace of anger or bitter disappointment in his tones, such as must have been the case had he learned of the cheat.
“How’s the leg, Kimball?” he was asking.
“Hurts pretty bad, let me tell you,” came the reply; “and the worst of it is, I can’t get the bleed to stop. If this keeps on, I’ll keel over soon; I’m feeling that weak, Charlie.”
The man with the bass voice said something that sounded like strong language. At first Giraffe feared he had taken a notion to open up the package, and learned of the cheat; but when he spoke, this proved not to be the case.
“That’s hard luck, ain’t it, Kimball?” he went on. “The only feller in our bunch thet knows a blamed thing about the doctor game, he’s gone an’ took sick hisself, an’ is alyin’ thar under thet ledge, whar we’ve hed to camp out ever since larnin’ thet them hunters was occupyin’ this here cabin. But after I’m rested a bit, tell you what I’ll do—you lay around and take it easy, while I hike back and bring my brother-in-law here. He’s on’y a light weight, an’ I guess as how I kin kerry him on my back. Won’t be the fust heavy pack I’ve toted over the Maine carries, believe me.”
“All right, Charlie,” said the other, who possessed a high voice, exactly the opposite of that belonging to the big leader. “And p’raps, now, Dick might be in one of his lucid turns, so he could tell me what to do to stop this pesky bleed. I never knowed what a crazy job it was till now, not to understand the first thing ’bout stoppin’ blood from flowin’ from a wound.”
“Sho! thet’s nawthin’. I’ve seen a logger bleed right to death ’cause nobody had any ijee how to do that same. You’d think loggers, of all men’d larn sech tricks. Likewise, you’d expect sailors would every one of ’em know how to swim; but they don’t, in half the cases.”
“Say, Charlie, what we goin’ to do?” asked the wounded man, fretfully.
“What d’ye mean by askin’ thet, Kimball?” demanded the other.
“Supposin’ I get in trim to move in a day or two, how long must we hang out in these here diggings, to take care of Dick?” Kimball asked.
“Wall, I want to do the right thing by the pore critter,” replied Charlie, reflectively. “You remembers that he’s my wife’s brother. But in course thar’s got to be a limit. We’re in danger every minit we stays here this side the border. An’ with thet thar sheriff pokin’ ’raound every which way, tryin’ to locate us, it’d be crazy fur us to hang out here long.”
“Put a limit on the time, Charlie. He ain’t any relation of mine, you see, and I just don’t feel like taking chances on twenty years to oblige your wife’s brother. P’raps I couldn’t make it just as well without you, but I know which is north, an’ that safety lies that way; so I’d just keep on travelin’ till I learned I was over the line in Canada.”
“I tell you what, Kimball,” said the other, after a pause, “we’ll give the poor feller till to-morry night. If he ain’t better then, we jest got to leave hyar by the next mornin’ sure. The best we kin do is to fix him comfortable like, with a plenty o’ water and grub handy, and let him take chances. Now, as I hev got my hands on this hyar bundle o’ stuff again, I jest don’t feel like bein’ caged.”
“That’s all right, Charlie,” replied the other. “I don’t like to desert a man any more than you do; but what’s a fellow goin’ to do? We’d all get caught if we hung out here too long. As it is, we can send the sheriff word when we’re safe over the line, and he’ll find Dick. They ain’t got much on the boy, you know; and if he’s sent up at all, it’d only be for a few years.”
By this time Giraffe himself was crawling past under the little window. He knew that he must be making more or less of a rustling sound while moving along; to his ears all trifling things were magnified immensely; why, he could even hear the pounding of his rapidly beating heart, and wondered if it was calculated to catch the attention of those within the cabin.
However, he realized that several things were acting in his favor. In the first place the wind made more or less of a constant rustle through the tops of the tall pines, and this in itself would have deadened other sounds. Then again, the fact of the two hobo yeggs talking together acted as a buffer, since they were not so likely to keep their ears on the alert for suspicious noises from without.
There were Sebattis and Eli turning the last angle now. That must bring them to the front of the cabin, where they could crouch down behind some of the shrubbery that Giraffe remembered grew on that side. Doubtless the keen-witted Indian had this very fact in mind when he chose to pass along to this side of the door, rather than take the other route; as Giraffe realized he must have done, simply because in that case he would not have to pass under a window at all.
Did they mean to suddenly spring into the cabin, and cover the men before they could snatch up their guns? Giraffe hoped not, for in that case the rest of them might not have any share at all in the winding up of the affair; and all the glory would pass to Sebattis, Eli, and perhaps Thad and Allan.
But then, the fact that the leaders were now crouching there would seem to indicate that just then at least there was no intention of going further.
So Giraffe, also pulling his long figure forward, found a place where he too could stretch out, and with his gun in his trembling hands, wait for the next move in the game.
Now he remembered what the man with the heavy voice had just said about meaning to start out after the sick member of the trio, after he had recovered his wind. That looked as if Sebattis might be laying for him there. And when he stepped into the open, doubtless the two guides expected to suddenly spring to their feet, at the same time cowering him by leveling their weapons.
Giraffe realized that perhaps this was rather queer business for a Boy Scout to be in, rounding up desperate law breakers; but if Thad thought it all right, why, there could be no objection.
Some one pushed up against him, and twisting that wonderful neck of his, Giraffe was able to see that it was Step Hen, who in turn had arrived, and taken his position in the line.
Davy was last of all to reach the shelter of the clump of brushwood, but he came working his way along on his stomach, and pushing his shotgun ahead of him as best he knew how; though the chances were he filled the muzzle with dirt in so doing, and took chances of having a barrel burst, should he try and discharge the weapon before cleaning this out.
Well, they were all there now, and only waiting for Charlie to be accommodating enough to put in an appearance. It could not be for long; though with his nerves all keyed up to concert pitch, Giraffe thought the seconds were weighted down with lead, they passed so slowly.
There, was that a movement at last within the cabin? Some one was certainly crossing the pine-covered floor with heavy steps. Still, it may have been the wounded man, limping to new quarters.
Again Giraffe allowed himself to draw in some of the cool air; for in that second of strain he had actually stopped breathing.
The crisis was only delayed a little, and was sure to come along before a great while. He realized that those after whom he patterned were taking it calmly; and if they could wait, surely he had no right to show impatience. Many a plan doubtless owed its success to this quality of being able to restrain hasty action; why, Giraffe remembered a saying to the effect that “everything comes to him who waits.”
Well, there it was again, and this time surely it must be Charlie starting up. The heavy boom of his voice could be heard, showing that he was even then advancing toward the open door.
“I guess I ought to be back again inside an hour, Kimball; an’ if so be you kin wait thet long, p’raps Dick, he mout be in trim to tell you what to do ’bout thet leg o’ yourn. Take it as easy as you kin while I’m gone, and make up yer mind as things is bound to move along arter this as slick as grease, believe me.”
A bulky figure stepped out of the door. Sebattis waited until he had taken as many as five steps away, his object being to prevent the man from bolting back into the cabin, where he could defend himself with some chance of success.
Then, as though by some preconcerted signal, the two guides, together with Thad and Allan, suddenly arose, and swung their guns to their shoulders. Thinking that this was an invitation for them to get busy, the other three scouts also scrambled to their feet, and followed the example of their leaders.
And that was the astonishing sight the hobo yeggman saw, as he turned his head upon hearing the noise made by the boys in gaining their feet.
“Throw up yer hands thar, Charlie Bunch!” Eli had said in a stern voice; and from the fact of his mentioning another name besides that of Barnes, Giraffe realized the old Maine guide must have recognized the yegg bank burglar as one he had known in long days gone by.
The big fellow looked ugly for a few seconds, and Giraffe felt a shiver run up and down his spine, as he wondered whether he were about to witness a real desperate battle. But then Charlie, for all his fierce looks, had a grain of common sense besides. Doubtless he also knew what kind of man he had to deal with in old Eli Crookes. And then, it must have been somewhat discouraging for even the most daring and reckless of souls to see that grim array of seven guns, all covering his person, even if five of the lot were held by boys.
So Charlie gave a sort of make-believe careless laugh, and obeyed the order of the guide. He even thrust his hands up higher than there was any real necessity for doing, as though he believed in going to the limit.
“Caught at last, and with the goods on, too!” he remarked, in his booming bass voice. “How are you, Eli? So, arter all I’m goin’ to owe my bein’ passed over to a feller I used to chum with. But we never did git on together, did we, Eli? Say, Kimball, show yourself here. Come out an’ jine in the dance. Thet’s the way it allers goes; when you think things are breaking your way, kerflop she goes into the soup. Tie me up, Eli, so I can’t do any damage when my mad comes on, like it will when I gets to thinkin’ o’ how near I was to bein’ fixed for life.”
A face was seen in the doorway just then, a frightened face too. Thad swung his gun around, and covered Kimball, who immediately showed new signs of alarm.
“Don’t fire, there!” he called out; “I’m all shot up as ’tis, an’ losin’ pints of blood at a two-forty rate. I surrender, all right! If Charlie, he gives in, there ain’t no show for a wounded man like me holding out.”
“Keep him covered, all the same, Thad, until we get this other one tied up,” advised Allan, who possibly knew more about the type of rascal they were dealing with than any other among the scouts.
Eli did the job himself. And that he knew how to go about it in the right way Charlie himself testified in no uncertain tones.
“Reckon thet settles my hash, all right,” he declared, as he surveyed the manner in which the stout cord was passed around his arms, so as to hold them behind his back when the guide wanted to complete the tying. “You’d do fur a sheriff, Eli Crookes. I s’pose this is jest what I ought to expect, after playin’ the kind o’ game I hev all these years; but I don’t give up the ship while there’s life. Mebbe so I kin git away yet.”
That was possibly the only thing that had kept Charlie from putting up a desperate resistance when he found himself cornered. So long as there was life there was hope; whereas, if he tried to fight, and was shot to death, that ended it.
Then Thad had a chance to pay attention to Kimball. He saw that there was not the slightest chance for the wounded man to try and escape. He was really too weak to go far; and besides, that open cut did seem to be bleeding seriously.
“Here, you just sit down and let me look at that leg,” Thad ordered, after he had searched the man, and taken from him an ugly looking bulldog revolver that was an exact contrast with the up-to-date automatic weapon they had found in Charlie’s pocket, but which he had not dared attempt to reach when faced by the seven foes.
“Are you a surgeon, boy?” demanded Kimball, a note of eagerness in his voice. “I hope you are, because I’m feeling in a desperate way. Unless something’s done to stop that flow of blood, why, I’ll be a goner before to-morrow morning.”
“Oh! I’ll fix that, all right,” said Thad, reassuringly. “No, I’m not a surgeon, or only a bungling one at that; but I do know how to stop a wound from bleeding. That’s one of the things a Boy Scout learns when he makes up his mind he wants to get a medal, and reach out for the first class rank. You watch me, and see.”
There was quite an interested audience, for Giraffe, Davy, Step Hen, Allan, and even the two guides hovered around, keeping tabs on all that the patrol leader did.
Thad first closely examined the mark where the bullet of Sebattis had cut across Kimball’s lower limb. Then he took a big red bandanna handkerchief and tied it tightly around the leg, just below the knee, making sure that the large knot came exactly on the artery which ran back of the joint.
After that Thad took a stick he had provided, and inserting this in the handkerchief, he began to calmly twist it around several times. Of course this immediately tightened the binding, and the knot being pressed in against the artery, prevented the blood from coming to any extent at all.
The man had shut his teeth hard together, but he groaned once or twice under the operation; though Thad believed this must be on account of the strain he was laboring under, rather than because of any particular bodily agony.
“Now, this is only temporary,” the scout advised, after he had washed the wound with some tepid water, for, acting under his directions, Giraffe had hastily placed an old pan with some water in it, on the fire, which evidently Charlie had revived after finding his bundle intact under the stone.
“We’re going to make a litter, and carry you up to the place we expect to camp to-night,” he remarked a little later, when he had bound the man’s leg up nicely. “And to-night I’ll see if I can do something about that partly severed artery. It’s hardly a job for a boy, and I wouldn’t try it only the case is desperate. And it happens that I used to go around with an uncle of mine who was an old doctor, and he let me help him lots of times.”
With that Kimball had to rest content. But the boy had done so splendidly as far as he went, that the wounded hobo began to hope he might even go further, and fix the artery, so that the benumbing bandage could be eased up.
At one time Thad thought of sending one of the guides up and having the canoes brought back to the cabin; but for some reason this plan was abandoned.
Giraffe and Davy manufactured the rude litter, acting under the orders of Allan, who had seen one used in the past. It would easily hold Kimball, who was not a heavy weight.
Believing that they might as well make use of the strapping big hobo, Charlie, as a burden bearer, Eli unfastened his hands, and made him take the front end of the litter, while he himself would look after the rear, with some of the scouts to keep guard over the prisoner.
Of course in searching the two yeggmen there had been found the proceeds of their recent robbery, in the shape of packages of bills, and some gold. But when the little procession was ready to leave the cabin, and Thad took up the bundle of old clothes, which he tossed into the fire, Charlie let out a yell.
“Hey! thet’s a crazy thing to do, bub; don’t you know what’s wrapped up inside them same ole clothes?” he called, evidently greatly excited at the idea of a fortune burning up.
“I ought to know, because I put it in there myself,” replied Thad, smiling at the big man’s excitement. “You see, Charlie, we began to figure on why you wanted to get into this same old cabin so much, and guessed that you had something hid away here. So we looked around a bit, found the hole under the stone, took out the boodle you had put away, fixed up a dummy to fool you; and there you are. So, let the old stuff go up in smoke. It’s just as well to get rid of the duds that nobody wants.”
“Well, I swan!” muttered Charlie, staring hard at Thad, as though he had begun to suspect that after all these Boy Scouts were worth considering, if many of them could do the things this leader seemed to be capable of, from managing a surprise party on a poor hobo innocent, to fixing up a wounded leg that threatened to do for Kimball.
So they went off, taking the back trail; and Giraffe, who was observing all these things now, noticed that they passed over exactly the same route as when heading for the cabin. And he gave Sebattis credit for a wonderful amount of ingenuity, which he feared must ever be beyond the capacity of a tenderfoot scout.
Of course it was the intention of Thad to take the litter later on, and acting on the directions which Charlie promised to give, seek the gully where, under a shelf of rock, they would find the sick hobo, Dick, who could also be brought to the camp.
“I rather guess we’ll have to break up our trip for a while,” Thad remarked to Allan, as they walked along in company.
“Yes, I can see that plain enough,” replied the other; “because we’ve had these sick and wounded hoboes shoved on us, whether we would or not, and we just can’t do anything else. But some of our crowd can go down the river in a big hurry, and after handing them over to the authorities in the first town, come back to you and Sebattis here.”
“I’d want you to stay with me up here, too, Allan,” remarked Thad, warmly.
In due time they reached the place where the boats lay, and hearing them approaching, Bumpus and Jim came ashore. A camp was next in order, for the boys really wanted to find themselves under canvas once more. Giraffe exerted himself to get a fire going, while the tents were being erected, and Thad with Allan had gone off to bring in the sick man.
This they had little trouble in doing. Dick was in a bad way, being feverish; and while Thad gave him some medicine, he declared that they had better get the man to a doctor as soon as possible.
So it was determined to make an early start. They would be up long before sunrise, the tents stowed, and the boats packed. One more in each would crowd a whole lot, but the guides thought it could be done by careful management.
Supper was cooked, and the prisoners given their share. The wounded man declared he was feeling considerably better; and Dick too showed signs of having his high fever broken.
The scouts were lying around in any way they considered comfortable, while Charlie and Kimball, with their hands tied behind their backs, and a rope holding them to a tree, sat there, listening to the conversation, though not in any too happy a mood themselves, when there was heard the crash of approaching footsteps.
Then several figures loomed up, entering the camp. Sebattis had merely glanced up, but made no move to reach for his gun; so Giraffe felt that the danger could not be acute.
Well, of course it was no other than Sheriff Green, with his posse; and as they advanced they were holding their guns in such fashion that they had Charlie and Kimball covered; for evidently they had not discovered that the pair were tied up.
“Run you down at last, have we, Charlie Barnes?” the sheriff was saying, as he strode forward, and there was a vein of curiosity as well as triumph in his voice. “Don’t bother getting up; we can put the irons on just as well where you sit. But hello! if here ain’t our young friends the scouts! What does this mean, I wonder?”
At that there was a roar from the scouts that must have shown the officer how badly he had deceived himself; but then discovering the two desperate rascals of whom he was in search, apparently sitting there, and taking things easy, how was he to know they were prisoners. Besides, he had eyes only for them, as he came advancing into camp.
“A little too late, Mr. Sheriff,” remarked Thad, advancing to meet the other, “we found that in self-defense we just had to take these gentlemen in out of the cold ourselves. Besides, one of them was wounded by Sebattis the other night, and a second is a pretty sick man, so we’re going to send them down the river in the morning with part of our force.”
Of course the sheriff was greatly disappointed. To have his work cut out for him by a parcel of lads wearing the khaki uniforms of the Boy Scouts was hard on the officer. And Thad felt that Sheriff Green must begrudge them the reward that had been offered for the apprehension of the yeggmen, and the recovery of the plunder taken from the last bank they had broken into.
“Tell you what we’ll do, Mr. Green,” he remarked, as they all sat around the fire, with the three last arrivals enjoying a late supper; “suppose we split that reward for the taking of the hoboes into three parts. One will go to you, as you gave us valuable information; another we scouts believe we deserve; while the third I want our guides to share among themselves.”
“That’s a generous offer, my boy,” declared the sheriff. “Most people would think they had a right to it all, as you really do. I accept for myself and posse. And if you can take the wounded and the sick man along in your boats, we’ll see that Charlie gets down there all right. Is it a bargain?”
Thad glanced around at his chums, and each gave him a nod in the affirmative. That settled the matter, for the silent vote had been unanimous.
“It’s a go, sir, and we take you up on that,” declared the leader of the scout patrol.
Accordingly they talked over the arrangements, and how they might meet again in the town where the prisoners could be placed in charge of the authorities, until the proper officers came to take them to Augusta.
Giraffe managed to get Thad alone later on in the evening. The sheriff was feeling pretty good after his feed, and sat there by the fire swapping stories with old Eli, while the rest of the scouts lay around, listening and laughing.
“I noticed that you didn’t say anything about that other pile of stuff we landed under the stone in the old cabin?” remarked Giraffe.
“That’s right, I didn’t,” answered Thad, readily; “and I kept mum on purpose. In the first place, it was none of their business, because they knew nothing about that plunder. And if they knew that we had it, perhaps it might have made bad feelings. Just remember, and don’t mention it. Of course, if Charlie happens to give the secret away later on, when he’s with them, that can’t be helped. I wouldn’t think of denying it, if they mentioned the matter right now; but I don’t believe it’s any of their business. Understand, Giraffe?”
“Sure I do, and let me say I’m of the same mind too,” replied the other. “I’ll just try and let Bumpus and Step Hen know, because, you see, they’re kind of easy marks, and apt to talk too much. If that sharp sheriff ever gets a hint of what we dug up, he’ll want to hear the whole story.”
Of course, with an experienced officer to look after Charlie, none of the scouts saw any reason for anxiety, or losing sleep in fear of the desperate hobo breaking loose. Thad confined his labors to the sick and wounded. He had managed to accomplish that delicate little surgical job with a fair amount of success, considering his lack of experience. Kimball was loud in his praise of the boy’s nimble fingers and ready brain.
“You’ll sure be a great surgeon some day, younker!” he declared. “That was as nice a job as many a doctor could have done. And I reckon I’m agoin’ to get well now, and stand for that twenty year sentence the judge’ll hand out to me. I wish there had been such a thing as Boy Scouts when I was young; p’raps, then, there’d been a different story to tell about me.”
Thad was sitting there, listening to the talk, when some one plucked him by the sleeve, and looking up, he saw Sebattis. There was a glitter in the black eyes of the dusky guide that surprised the patrol leader.
“Get gun—come ’long—think hear moose call ’gain,” whispered the Indian.
Thad was of course thrilled by this intelligence; but at the same time he remembered that he had promised Allan the next chance, in case they had reason to believe a moose were in the vicinity.
Accordingly, he spoke to the Maine boy, and then asked the others to kindly moderate their noise; though Sebattis had already told him that they would go fully a mile from the camp before answering the far-away call.
Again did Sebattis seem to know where he wanted to wait to see if the moose was to be drawn near the waiting rifles. He settled down at a certain place, and sent out the strange call that, heard in the dead silence of the Maine night, always makes the blood of the hunter leap wildly through his veins.
There was an immediate answering call, and after waiting a little time, they once more sent a challenge forth.
This was kept up for half an hour, but so far as Thad could see, no advantage had been gained. Sebattis was grunting now, every time he called. Perhaps he began to believe this must be a mighty queer moose, to send back that rolling defiance, and yet not advance to any appreciable extent.
“No good, bull!” he finally declared, as they heard the answer come from some distance, and in exactly the same quarter as before.
“But if the mountain won’t come to Mohammed; why, he might go to the mountain,” Thad suggested; “in other words, chief, what’s to hinder us from heading that way, with you giving him a call every little while? He’ll either have to run away, or face the music then, I guess.”
“Huh! just like Thad say; Sebattis ready; heap queer; never know bull like that. Soon see!”
As they moved along, following the guide, who occasionally sent out a call, Allan took occasion to say to his chum in a whisper: