XXIITREED!
The boys heard a grouse drumming in the woods back of the cabin one morning, and decided to try the experiment of walking up to it. Taking the camera, they waited until they heard the beginning of its tattoo, and then started off in its direction. When it ceased they halted abruptly and waited for a repetition. Then, as it again echoed through the woods, they hurried on. These manœuvers were repeated until the lads found themselves close upon the unsuspecting drummer.
“Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud; thud, thud, thud, thud-r-r-r-r,” the muffled sound rose near at hand, reverberated in their ears, and died away.
“I think he just hopped down from that old log over there,” said George, in a low whisper, as he and Ed lay behind a great lichen-covered boulder.
Again the sound came to them, and, peeringat the log, they saw the drummer at work. Hopping to the top of the fallen tree-trunk, he stood for a moment, with crest erect, looking about him. Then, spreading his tail and dragging the tips of his wings along the log, he strutted proudly to and fro. Stopping suddenly, he spread his wings and began lustily beating the air. Beginning slowly, he moved his wings faster and faster, raising himself on his toes in the effort, until the beats became so rapid that the thud of each stroke was blended with the one before, and a dull, continuous rumble, as of distant thunder, was the result. When he finished he jumped down on the opposite side of the log and disappeared from the sight of his charmed audience.
“Wasn’t that great?” whispered George. “We certainly walked him down, all right, didn’t we?”
“Yes, but keep quiet; I’m going to try to get a picture,” declared Ed, looking longingly toward the shelter of a small evergreen that stood within a few feet of the log on which the grouse had drummed.
“You’ll never get there without his seeing or hearing you,” warned George.
Further whisperings were cut short by the second appearance of the bird on the log.Again the boys lay fascinated, as he went through his interesting performance. When it was finished, they turned their heads and looked at each other comprehendingly. From close by had come a reply, a challenge to his boastful call.
It was evident that he heard and understood the answer of his rival. For a moment he stood boldly erect, turning his head for some sign of his enemy, his tail feathers spread fan-like, and his wings half drooping. From time to time he raised and lowered the feathers on his crown, and the stiff, ruff-like collar about his neck stood out with anger. The boys fancied they could almost see the flash of his eyes as he waited for the challenger to appear. Once more he sent his call thundering through the woods, and again the answer came back, this time closer at hand.
An indistinct, shadowy something roared past, and the watchers dodged involuntarily. It landed with a thud among the dried leaves, and they saw at once that it was a second grouse come to do battle with the first.
“Oh, for a picture!” breathed Ed.
“Be still; we’re going to see something worth watching in a few minutes,” cautioned George, in a scarcely audible whisper.
Nor were they long left in doubt about it,for the two feathered rivals, after a little warlike strutting, attacked each other with beak and spurs. Like barn-yard roosters, they jumped at one another, striking and pecking, in a fast and furious battle for supremacy. The sympathy of the boys was entirely with the one they had stalked. The other had come looking for trouble. That he was getting it in generous quantities seemed only proper to the partial audience behind the rock.
In their fighting, the determined little warriors drew nearer the hiding-place of the boys. Ed quietly brought forth the camera and made it ready, resolved to have a picture if they came within focusing range.
Suddenly something red flashed from a group of little pines. Before the lads realized what had happened, a big red fox was disappearing with one of the recent combatants in his jaws. The survivor thundered away into the forest, chattering with fright. The birds had afforded him easy prey, for, engaged as they were with each other, they had not detected his stealthy approach until the sly red fellow was upon them.
“Well, what do you think of that?” asked George, sitting up with a surprised look on his face.
“Beats anything I ever heard of,” declared Ed, folding the camera.
“Say, Ed, which one did he get?”
“The one that came looking for trouble, I think.”
“That’s what I thought. I’m sorry he got either, but I’m glad it was the other that got away. He seemed so blamed happy and contented drumming away on his old log that I’d just hate to think of anything like that happening to him.”
“So would I,” said Ed, rising from the ground.
The boys walked away solemnly in the direction taken by the red marauder. They stooped and picked up several mottled-brown feathers, mute evidences of the tragedy just witnessed. For some distance they made their way in silence, their minds occupied with the fate of the luckless grouse.
Then they heard the hoarse bark of a fox and halted at once. They could hear him trotting over the fallen leaves within a few feet of them. Finally they saw him, and, strange enough, he did not seem inclined to take advantage of the available shelter, but rather appeared to court their attention.
“George, I think he has his eye on you for an extra course after the grouse,” laughed Ed. “Let’s give him a chase, just for fun.”
“Hold on a moment,” cautioned George, seriously, while he studied the unaccountable actions of the fox. “Do you know what I think is the matter?”
“No; what?”
“Well, I’m quite sure that old fellow’s den is around here somewhere. Don’t you remember what Ben told us about him? You know he said if you suddenly came upon an old fox near its den and young, it would act exactly like this one is acting. Remember how he said it would hover near and endeavor to frighten you into leaving the vicinity, or else would try to draw you into a chase, and so lead you away from the spot?”
“By ginger! you’re right, George. Great head! I had forgotten all about it,” confessed Ed. “I believe that is just what this old ‘sly-boots’ is trying to do. Let’s look around a bit, and we may find the den.”
Giving no thought to the fox, which was becoming bolder each minute, they began to search about, in the hope of discovering his lair. Several times, in its concern and excitement, the crafty creature ran almost within reach of them.
“Wonder if he really would attack us?” said George.
“I don’t believe it,” replied Ed. “I think he’s just bluffing.”
Finally the fox uttered a few impatient yaps and trotted off. The boys stood looking after it; but apparently the sly red fellow had lost all interest in them. He disappeared over a hill, as though their presence in the vicinity caused him little anxiety.
“Well, what about that?” inquired Ed, disgustedly. “I don’t believe we are within a mile of his den. I guess he was just looking us over to see if it was worth while carrying one of us home for dinner,” he laughed.
“Don’t you fool yourself,” said George, confidently. “That’s only part of his bluff. His den is right here, and I’m going to find it.”
They began their search all over again, carefully parting bushes, peering under shelving ledges and into crevices between rocks—in fact, any and every place where they thought it might be located. For a long time they were unsuccessful, and they had about made up their minds to abandon the hunt and return to the cabin.
Then George shouted; and, hurrying over to him, Ed saw the entrance to the den. It was in the side of a sandy bank beneath a ridge of yellow pines. About it were tracks, and near-by some signs. The searchers feltsure this was the abode of the crafty animal which had tried by every means in its power to lead them astray.
While they stood there another fox, smaller and paler than the first, rushed from the entrance and dashed away into the woods.
“That’s the mate!” declared Ed, excitedly.
“Must be,” agreed George. “Now’s our chance to get the young ones,” he added, kneeling down and placing his ear to the hole in the bank.
“Can you hear them?” Ed inquired, eagerly.
“Not a sound. I shouldn’t be surprised if the den is a long ways back from the opening. Say, here are some grouse feathers.” And he held up several which they believed had come from the bird whose taking-off they had witnessed.
The boys hardly knew what to do. They did not wish to kill either the old or the young foxes, although they recalled that Ben had declared these animals destructive to game, and therefore a nuisance in the woods. Still, they did not care to murder the sly old fellow and his timid mate, for at that season the pelts were of little or no value, and the destruction of the animals would seem entirely unwarranted. However, they were anxiousto possess one or more of the baby foxes. Ben had often told them what admirable pets these little fellows grew to be if taken very young.
At last they decided to dig out the den, take what pups they desired, and leave the rest for the old foxes to remove to a new home, which, according to the guide, they would be sure to do.
“You stay here to keep them from taking the little fellows out, and I’ll go back to the cabin and get something to dig with,” said Ed, hurrying away.
George sat down beside the entrance of the den. He expected one or both of the foxes to return, and wondered what they would do when they found him there. Then he began to think; and the more he thought, the less enthusiasm he had for the undertaking in hand. Somehow it did not seem right to destroy the home which represented so much hard labor on the part of the old “red” and his mate. If they could get one of the young ones without demolishing the den and leaving the others deserted and homeless, he would have felt better about it. He believed that Ed would feel much the same. George thought that by watching the den they might find one of the youngsters playing before theentrance, when it might be a simple matter to capture it.
Then his alert ears caught the sound of snapping twigs. He looked toward the sound, and his heart gave a great bound of joy. It seemed that his noble resolutions were about to be rewarded. There in plain sight, and but a short way from the den, was a small, brown-furred creature. In his eagerness George instantly mistook it for one of the young foxes.
He dashed forward; but it turned at sight of him and ran into the bushes, squealing lustily. George ran after it, but was unable to overtake the little fugitive before it had concealed itself in the dense cover. He searched around in the low undergrowth, and finally frightened his supposed fox from its hiding-place and endeavored to seize it with his hands.
Then there was a great crashing of brush behind him, and the lad was almost startled out of his senses by a savage roar. His frightened glance showed him the head and shoulders of a large black bear, which was coming directly at him. In an instant the truth flashed across his mind—it was one of her cubs he had been chasing.
Wheeling in panic, George sprinted towarda tree, and luckily gained it several yards ahead of the bear. He lost little time “shinneying” to a high branch, where, white and shaky, he sat looking down at the infuriated animal below.
Fortunately, the tree was of small circumference, and after sniffing about the trunk, the bear decided not to climb it. The lad watched her anxiously as she gathered her cubs—there were two of them. Then his heart sank, for she evidently intended to remain at the base of the tree until he came down.
George sat on his dizzy perch and blamed himself for his stupidity in mistaking a bear cub for a baby fox. Now that he saw it plainly, he was unable to note any resemblance.
The old bear rose several times and placed her fore feet against the tree. Each time she did this, poor George nervously meditated the distance he would be obliged to drop to reach the ground before the bear reached him. When she finally walked off and sat down some little distance away, he felt greatly relieved.
Then a new thought came to him. What about Ed? He would soon return from the cabin, and, unless warned, would walk rightinto the ugly brute. As he saw the danger his impulsiveness had placed his friend in, George grew sick at heart. If he could only hear him approaching, perhaps he might be able to warn him before it was too late. What worried him was the fear that Ed would draw near unheard. Anxious and troubled, he sat aloft straining his ears to catch some sound that would proclaim the return of his friend.
Suddenly the mother bear rose to her feet, and, growling angrily, stood facing the direction from which Ed would come. George yelled as loudly as he could, for he felt sure his friend was advancing to his doom. His shout was immediately answered, and George groaned.
“Hey, Ed, look out—go back—there’s a bear waiting for you!” he screamed, at the top of his voice.
Ed shouted something in reply, but George could not understand what he said. He realized that his warning had been useless. Again he shouted, and kept on shouting; but either Ed would not or could not understand. He was quite close now, and George could hear him forcing his way through the brush.
Then the savage roar echoed in George’s ears, and he saw the bear charge.
“Run, Ed, run! She’s after you!” he cried.
For some moments a strange, uncanny silence followed the noise of the bear crashing through the bushes.
“Are you all right? Answer me, Ed!” he implored.
“Yes—I’m—all right—so far,” came the labored reply, as if Ed had been either badly frightened or completely “winded.” “I’m in—a tree—about half-way up. Say, it looks like she is coming up after me!” he yelled nervously.
“Go on up higher!” urged George.
“Can’t—I’m—stuck on this—blamed—stub!” was the alarming reply. Then, after a pause: “All right, I’m free. I don’t believe she’ll come up, after all.”
Peering out in the direction of the voice, George finally saw his friend in the top of a tall tree. Ed saw him at the same instant, and gingerly waved an arm. The trees were near enough together to prevent either of the boys from sliding down and making off to the cabin without being seen and attacked by the angry bear on guard between them.
“Watch out, she’s going back to you!” warned Ed, after they had been treed for some time.
Back came the bear to the tree George wasin, and, what was more, she started to climb it. Beads of cold sweat came out on his forehead, as the worried lad watched the great ungainly beast struggling upward along the slender trunk. The weight of her body and the force of her exertions swayed the tree so that George feared he would be shaken from his perch.
There seemed but one thing to do when the bear should finally reach him; and that was to hang suspended by his arms and work his way, hand over hand, to the end of the limb. It would be a risky undertaking, for the limb was none too strong. However, it was far less risky than a drop to the ground, some thirty-odd feet below.
But suddenly, when the bear was half-way up, she halted, and then began to descend to the ground, where her cubs were calling. Once down, she drove her babies gently before her and disappeared into the woods.
For some time the boys were afraid to slide down for fear the bear might be hiding and watching. At last they mustered up sufficient courage to descend, and, gathering up the spade and other implements which Ed had brought, they hurriedly left the spot.
“I didn’t care about digging out that den, anyway,” said Ed, when they were well ontheir way. “It seemed like a nasty trick, when I began to think it over.”
“That was exactly the way it struck me,” replied George, “and I intended to speak to you about it when you came back.”
Then he told Ed about his blunder, and they laughed heartily.
That evening Ed explained the tear in his trousers by saying he had been treed by a bear. When asked for particulars, he said George had attempted to capture one of her cubs. He generously refrained from stating that his friend had mistaken it for a young fox.
“Well, I guess if I want to get you fellows to the lumber camp alive, I’d better start soon,” laughed the guide. “Maybe we’ll go to-morrow; I’ve got some business to attend to over there, anyhow.”
The boys were overjoyed, for this was the trip they had been looking forward to for months. They plied Ben with all sorts of questions regarding the life of such a place. He told them enough stories to raise their anticipations, and then ordered them to pack the things they wished to take, for, as usual, they would be away by daybreak.
It seemed useless for the lads to close their eyes that night. Sleep was impossible whiletheir minds were filled with the details of log-drives, and jams, and birling contests, and all the things incidental to life in a lumber camp. Accordingly, restless and impatient, they tossed about in their blankets, waiting for daylight and the time to be off.