CHAPTER XTHE WILD ANIMAL TRAP
The woman who rapidly bore down on the two boys had fire in her eye. She evidently believed she had cause for feeling angry, since it was her dog that had gone howling toward the house.
Somehow she seemed to guess which one of the two lads had been the cause of the wretched animal's misery. Bandy-legs had perhaps been seen in close connection with the raging beast just before the change in the latter's tune came, and the vicious snappy bark became a frightened yelp.
"What do you mean, you young scamp, hurting my watchdog on his own ground? Don't you know I could have the law on you for that? And what's that you've got in your hand there? Looks like a pistol to me. Why, the impudence of you coming in here and actuallyshootingmy poor Carlo!"
The farmer's wife said all this as she continued to advance toward Bandy-legs. She was large, and looked as though she might almost take a chap of his size across her knee, if she felt like it.
Bandy-legs wanted to turn and melt away, but he hated to show the white feather the worst kind. As this was an antagonist against whom he wasdebarred from using force he therefore looked appealingly toward Max, who had promised to get him out of the scrape.
At the same time he held up the little contrivance he had in his hand.
"Yes'm, this is a pistol, but not the kind you mean," he said, trying to keep his voice from shaking, and to be as respectful as possible. "It holds just a little mite of ammonia, and is used by bicycle riders to keep savage dogs from tearing them to pieces. I had to try it on Carlo because he was just bound to take a bite out of my leg; and you know I can't spare any."
She looked down at Bandy-legs' rather crooked lower extremities, and the faintest flicker of a smile crossed her angry face.
Just then Max put in an entering wedge.
"How d'ye do, Mrs. Ketcham? I didn't expect we were coming to your house when we started out from our camp to try and get some fresh eggs and milk. Of course I did know you lived up in this region somewhere. But my chum wasn't to blame at all, Mrs. Ketcham, I give you my word for it. And Carlo will get over the pain in a short time. I hope you won't hold it against us."
Apparently the farmer's wife had not taken a good look at Max up to then. Her entire attention had been focussed on the guilty party, whom she meant to intimidate with her righteous anger.
It was astonishing what a sudden change came over her rather vinegary face as she recognizedMax. The fact of the matter was, that she had been supplying his folks with fresh butter and eggs for several years, and accounted them among her best customers, going in twice a week to deliver her goods.
When poor shivering Bandy-legs saw that change in the expression of her thin face he experienced the most delightful sensation. It was similar to what a fellow might pass through when he had been hauled up from over a precipice after hanging to a bush the roots of which were slowly but surely giving way.
"Why, is it you, Max!" the woman exclaimed, her face breaking out with a smile that made her look quite like a different person; "I'm real glad to see you up at the farm. And if this other boy is a friend of yours, why, of course I'll have to forgive him for hurting my poor old Carlo. Perhaps he had to do it, as he says; and my husband does say the dog is getting a little ugly in his old age. We'll forget it then. What's your friend's name, Max? Seems to me I ought to know him."
"He's Doctor Griffin's boy, Clarence," Max hastened to reply; "and as good a fellow as any one would want to know; but he always does object to letting dogs take a piece out of his legs, and that's why he carries that ammonia gun with him most of the time."
"Oh! I thought I had seen him before, but I wasn't sure," she observed, nodding her head; "but then I should have remembered so remark—thatis, such a good-looking boy. And I'm going to begin delivering eggs at his house on my very next trip to Carson, too. That's queer, isn't it? Clarence, shake hands with me, and excuse me for seeming to be angry. We have tramps come here so often, and they always shy stones at Carlo, so that when I heard him howling I thought some of that tribe had hurt him. I can let you have all the eggs you want, just laid, and the richest Jersey milk you ever saw. Come up to the house, both of you."
It was all smooth sailing now, and Bandy-legs was glad he had stood up for his rights. He would never have held his own respect had he allowed that beast to get a nip at him while able to fight against it, no matter whose dog he might be.
Once at the farmhouse and they were treated like honored guests. Mrs. Ketcham, as though desirous of making amends for her first outburst, insisted on their accepting a bumper glass of fresh buttermilk each; and this was accompanied by several real home-made doughnuts such as the boys had seldom tasted before.
She loaned them a covered pail so that they could carry the milk from her prize Jersey herd of cows back to camp; while several dozen snowy white eggs from Leghorn fowls were placed in a basket, and so guarded that they could not be broken by any ordinary little jolt.
It was just as well that these precautions weretaken, Max thought; for he knew some of the failings of his chum, and one of them was in the line of making frequent stumbles, when there was the least reason for tripping over roots or stones that might lie in the path.
When Max and Bandy-legs finally started back to camp their pockets fairly bulged with winter apples that had been kept over in the cool cellar belonging to the farm, where fruit and vegetables were held in stock through the cold months of the winter.
"Turned out a lucky day after all, didn't it?" remarked Max, laughingly, as they both walked along, each with one hand free to take care of the apple they were munching at the time.
"You're right it did," his chum replied, with fervor, and then he sighed as he continued; "but there was a time when I thought I'd tumbled out of the fryingpan into the fire. It seemed tough enough battling with Carlo; but the way she looked at me, like she could eat me up, was a whole lot worse. But then that was all put on, I guess; and anyhow I'm ready to vote Mrs. Ketcham a trump. She makes the bulliest doughnuts ever, and her buttermilk is—well, it beats the Dutch!"
When they finally reached camp it was without any further adventure. They had seen no sign of any wild animal on the way, a fact Bandy-legs was glad to be able to report when Steve and Toby wanted to know about their trip.
The camp was now in good trim. Lots of littlethings could be done from time to time, that might add to their comfort. Nails had been driven into trees upon which they hung their cooking utensils; so that each article could be found whenever wanted. Steve had improved on the fireplace, too, having noticed that it had not been built so as to get the most favorable draught, for the prevailing winds would be apt to come from the southwest during their stay, and the front should face that way to secure the best results.
Then Toby had made a nice drain around the upper side of the tent. This was intended to shed the water in case a heavy rain set in, as it was apt to do, this being April weather. There is nothing more uncomfortable when camping than to find that the tent leaks, or that on account of the lay of the land water keeps coming in to make everything soggy, when a little precaution would have prevented such a happening.
Toby had finished his trap, and proudly exhibited the same to the chums who had just returned.
"You s-s-see," he remarked, as he led them forward to where a young sapling seemed to be trying to form a bow in the air, held down by some invisible influence, "it's a very old idea, and I don't c-c-claim to be the inventor. This sapling is h-h-hickory, and she's got a d-d-dickens of a s-s-spring too. It was all S-s-steve and me could do to bend her d-d-down so the n-n-notch I cut in the end could be caught on the p-p-peg I drove in the g-g-ground. You can see how she works, withthat l-l-loop of stout rope trailin' along here."
"I reckon you mean to have some attractive bait on the ground, so as to draw the prowler here," suggested Max. "Yes, I've read of traps like this before, though I never used one. They catch crocodiles with them in some places, besides all other kinds of things."
"The idea is this, I take it," Bandy-legs proceeded to say; "when the animal is nosing around after the bait he gets a leg caught in this loop, which pulls tighter and tighter the harder he jerks, till in the end it draws the notched end of the bent sapling free, and of course the same shoots up straight. That takes the animal up with it, if he happens to be small; and holds his hind quarters elevated if he's bigger. That the way, Toby?"
"T-t-thank you for explaining it for me, Bandy-legs," the other quickly remarked.
"I think you deserve a lot of credit for doing such a good job, Toby," Max told the trapper, for he had taken note of the fact that everything connected with the wild animal trap seemed exceeding well done.
"And that hickory sapling does look like it was the toughest bow ever," Bandy-legs affirmed. "Why, I wouldn't be surprised if it could jerk a feller of even my heft up in the air, and hold him upside-down, so he'd look like he was walkin' on his hands."
"W-w-want to t-t-try it?" demanded the constructor, eagerly.
"You'll have to excuse me this time," Bandy-legs answered, apologetically; "you see I've been having all the exercise that's good for me already to-day, what with the four mile walk, and that little circus with Carlo. But I'm willing to take your word for it, Toby, that it'll do the business O.K. And I only hope now some sneaker gets his hind Trilby caught in that loop. It'd give me a whole lot of satisfaction to see a wolf or a striped hyena handing up by his rear kicker, and whooping like all get-out for help."
The sun no longer shone in the friendly way that had marked the earlier hours of this, their first day in camp. Clouds had gathered and covered the sky, so that the air seemed even chilly.
"Feels like we might get some rain before a great while," Max gave as his opinion, and there was no dissenting voice, much though the rest would have liked to argue the other way, for they had hoped to have a spell of fine weather accompany their trip to the woods.
"I had that in mind," remarked Steve, "when I started to lay in a stock of good dry firewood. You see, here's a splendid place to keep it in, under the upturned roots of this fallen tree. If the rain does come it'll hardly heat in there, and things are apt to keep fairly dry. How about that, Max?"
"A good idea, Steve, and I say we had better get busy and gather all the stuff lying around.When you strike a rainy day in camp it's wonderful what a lot of wood you can use up."
"And it feels hunky to have plenty, I'm telling you," Bandy-legs admitted. "Now, while I'm thinking up what we ought to have for supper the rest of you might just as well get busy dragging all the loose wood to cover. It'll be good exercise, and give you a sharp appetite for the spread I'll set before you later on."
Perhaps the others may have considered that Bandy-legs was pretty "nervy" talking in this way, for he was known to be the poorest cook of the lot; but then he had been mysteriously hinting of late that he had been taking a course of lessons in cookery from the accomplished Nora who presided in the Griffin kitchen; and in consequence Max and Steve and Toby were quite curious to learn whether he could manage to get a decent meal together.
Things moved along smoothly, though several times Bandy-legs forgot just what the combination was, and had to call for help in order not to spoil the omelette he was making. In the end it proved to be a pretty decent supper he spread before them; and they agreed that his reputation as achefhad been considerably improved since the last time they were in the woods together up at Trapper Jim's place.
"I told you I could do it," Bandy-legs exultantly declared when they complimented him on hissuccess; "there isn't much I couldn't do if only I really and truly set out to try."
"I w-w-wish then you'd just make up your m-m-mind to try how strong that hickory s-s-sapling is," urged Toby, entreatingly. "It'd give me a h-h-heap of satisfaction to j-j-just satisfy my mind. You'd be about as h-h-hefty as a wolf or a tiger, you s-s-see; and if it draggedyouup all r-r-right, it ought to w-w-work with them. P-p-please accommodate me, Bandy-legs."
But apparently his coaxing was of no avail.
"I'd like to do it all right, Toby, but while I'm not tired now like I was before, it's too soon after supper to be yanked around, and turned upside-down that way," Bandy-legs explained, seeming to be very reluctant.
"L-later on, mebbe, then?"
"Why, er, I'm afraid it might wake me up too much just before going to my blanket, you see, Toby. It's a bad thing to get too active when you ought to be hitting the hay, and feel dopey. I've heard my dad say so lots of times. Keeps you wakeful all through the first part of the night. But that trap's all right, I'm tellin' you, Toby. If only some animal big enough to jerk the bow free comes along and sets his hind foot in your loop, you're going to hear something drop."
"I know what I'm meaning to do," said Steve, firmly; "and that's to keep my gun handy, so if we get waked up by a lot of screeching, like the world was coming to an end, I'll be ready to crawlout and wind up the career of the escaped menagerie beast, whatever it turns out to be."
"D-d-don't you be too q-q-quick on the trigger, Steve," pleaded Toby. "G-g-give us all a chance first to see what it's l-l-like. Mebbe we might want to keep it alive."
"What for?" demanded Steve, aggressively.
"A p-p-pet," replied Toby; "lots of p-p-people have pets, and think what it'd mean to me if I g-g-got a h-h-hyena in a c-c-cage."
"Yes, to be sure," scoffed the unconvinced Steve, "and also think what it would mean to all the neighbors too. According to my mind the only good hyena is a dead hyena. And if so be you ketch that sort in your bully trap I'm meaning to knock spots out of the same with a charge of buckshot. That goes, too, Toby, remember!"
CHAPTER XITOO TRICKY FOR TOBY
Later on Toby busied himself baiting his trap. Bandy-legs was invited to assist in the operation, but he declined. Perhaps he partly suspected the other had some sinister motive back of his invitation, and that when he least expected it that trailing loop would get twisted around one of his ankles, and his next step might precipitate an upheaval. Of course Toby could always declare that it must have been an accident; but his curiosity would have been satisfied at any rate. And Bandy-legs was firmly opposed to allowing himself to be experimented on. He had heard his father speak so many times of the horror of vivisection that somehow Bandy-legs seemed to have imbibed the idea that all experiments must be unpleasant.
At least it had not rained any at the time the boys sought their blankets; and some of the more sanguine began to hope it would prove to be a false alarm after all.
They had fixed things as well as they could, looking to a bad turn in the weather. If it did come they would have a sort of rustic shelter under which they could manage to keep their firegoing, and in that way get some warmth in the tent.
"Come along in, Toby, and quit your fussing out there!" Steve called, as he settled himself under his warm blanket, having chosen a position where he could duck out easily in case there came an alarm in the night.
"P'raps Toby's meaning to try his trap himself before he lays down," suggested Bandy-legs, a little viciously; "he'll sure never be happy till he knows whether it works or not. We'll take you down, Toby, if you get hung up by the hind leg."
"H-h-hind leg!" retorted Toby indignantly, "what d-d-do you take me for, anyhow? Mebbe you think I'm a c-c-cow or a j-j-jackass, but I ain't, all the s-s-same; I leave it to others to p-p-play such g-g-games."
As he came in shortly afterward it was apparent that Bandy-legs had counted without his host when he figured that Toby meant to test the working of his trap at his own expense. Toby was too smart for that, it seemed; and besides he doubtless had confidence in his arrangements.
"Here goes for a bully sleep," said Bandy-legs, as he coiled up under his cover, with his knees close to his chin, a favorite attitude with him; "and I hope nothing wakes me till morning."
"If you sleep as sound as you generally do," Max told him, "it would take a hurricane to bother you. If one came whooping along, and carried our tent up into the tree, the chances areyou'd open one eye and want to know who was making all that draught. You're a good sleeper, Bandy-legs, and your mother knows it, too."
"I believe in doing everything well," replied the other, sturdily. "When I eat I eat; and when the time comes to snooze take it from me I'm on the sleeping job from the word go. That's all you'll hear from me to-night, boys."
"Good!" said Steve, wickedly, "the rest of us can do a little thinking, then. Let it go at that, Bandy-legs; no reply needed. I'm expecting to go to sleep myself, for while I did say I meant to sit up and watch for that ham thief, since Toby's been so smart as to set a trap, what's the use?"
Presently all of them must have fallen asleep, to judge from the silence that hovered over the interior of the khaki-colored tent.
Some time passed by.
Then several heads suddenly projected from under as many blankets.
"What was that?" Max asked.
"My t-t-trap s-s-sprung!" gasped Toby.
"But what ails the beast that he don't let out a few howls?" demanded Steve, who was clawing desperately under his blanket, trying to find where he had placed his handy gun at the time he lay down.
"That's the funny part of it," Max declared; "if you've got your gun by now, Steve, let's crawl out and see what's doing."
The three of them hastened to do so, not knowingwhat they might see once they reached the open. Bandy-legs had as yet not stirred, and it really looked as if he meant to keep his word when he declared that nothing short of an earthquake or a cyclone would disturb him, once he got asleep.
As soon as the others huddled outside, and tried to focus their blinking eyes on their surroundings they discovered several things.
In the first place it had apparently not rained as yet, for the ground seemed to be perfectly dry. Then again, the fire had burned low, for it was giving only an apology of a light, and this flickered, and died down at intervals.
Max knew what should be the first duty, and stepping toward the fire he threw a handful of small trash on the coals. Immediately a flame sprang up, and the camp was fairly well illuminated.
Of course the boys all stared in the quarter where Toby had set that wonderful trap of his. If the hickory sapling had not been set free it would still be seen bent in the shape of a huge bow; but their first glance showed them that this was not the case.
"It's s-s-sprung!" said Toby, huskily.
Steve was holding his precious Marlin double-barrel gun so that he could raise it instantly and take aim.
"Yes," Max went on to say, with a touch of excitement in his voice as well as his manner,"and I can see something swinging back and forward there!"
"Oh! whatever can it be?" Toby ventured, tremulously; and then as he imagined that he detected a slight movement on the part of Steve he flung out a hand and tried to shove the other's gun aside, adding: "Don't you d-d-do it, Steve! Why, it can't be a hyena, or anything d-d-dangerous to us, because d-d-don't you see it's held right up in the air. Let's rush in and keep the poor thing from being c-c-choked to d-d-death!"
The three of them advanced in a straight line, Max and Steve being armed, and apparently ready to do fell execution, should there be any necessity for action. But nothing happened. The swinging object continued to move back and forth, but none of them could detect any spasmodic kicking connected with it that would suggest the dying struggles of a wild beast that was being slowly but surely choked.
Then Max gave a laugh.
"Why, it isn't a beast at all, but the heavy pole Bandy-legs threw over here the time you accused him of wanting to spring your trap, Toby!" he announced; and as all of them gathered close to the now upright hickory sapling, it was seen that what Max declared was really so.
"Then Bandy-legs m-m-must have d-d-done this trick!" burst from Toby, who was apparently, filled with indignation.
"Don't you believe it," Steve assured him;"because we all heard it go off, and right then Bandy-legs was sound asleep alongside me. He's there yet, bundled up in his blanket."
"You think so, but you d-d-don't know for s-s-sure," spluttered Toby, distressed at the failure of his much vaunted trap to show results. "C-c-chances are if you went and looked you'd f-f-find he had a d-d-dummy there under his b-b-blanket all the time."
"Well, now," observed Max, frowning, "that never occurred to me before, and while I can hardly believe our chum would play such a prank on us, still you never can tell. So Toby, we appoint you a committee of one to go back into the tent and see if Bandy-legs is there or not."
"I will!" Toby responded, firmly, as though he meant to have the truth made manifest without any delay; and accordingly he hastened away from Max and Steve, who started in to learn the way in which the heavy pole had been seized by the loop.
Immediately Toby came running back, and his face looked more blank than ever.
"Well, did you find him there?" asked Max.
"Yep, and as d-d-dead to the w-w-world as anything," replied the stutterer, as he looked blankly at his two chums, and then toward the swinging pole, as though, the puzzle had become more exasperating than ever.
Steve gave a low whistle, which was his way of expressing amazement.
"Say, that must be a wonderful old stick, all right!" he declared, jerking his thumb toward the object that was held in the tightened loop of rope.
"B-b-but you d-d-don't really think it j-j-jumped up all by itself, and g-g-got c-c-caught, do you?" Toby demanded, quite aghast.
"Well, hardly," said Max, though a little frown told that he too considered the enigma a nut hard to crack. "Something that had life about it made that stick do that trick; there's no doubt about that."
"Was it an animal or—a man?" Steve immediately asked, as he looked nervously around, and half raised his gun, as though he expected to see some ugly hobo advancing menacingly from the shelter of the forest.
Max was bending down, and evidently trying to examine the soil.
"I don't seem to see any tracks of a man here," he said; "and perhaps you've noticed that about all the bait Toby put out is gone!"
"C-c-cracky! that's so!" cried Toby, although up to then he had not thought to pay any attention to this important fact.
"Then some sort of animal must have been here," Max steadily affirmed. "It ate up the bait, and then must have either accidentally or on purpose poked that heavy stick into the loop, and sprang Toby's trap."
"Sure it must have been an accident, Max," objected Steve; "because it would have to be amighty smart animal, and a tricky one at that, to play such a sly game as using this stick to set the bent sapling free."
"I know it looks that way," Max went on to say; "but don't forget that the animal that threw the ham at your head from the treewasa tricky one. Some of those beasts belonging to the show are trained to do lots of queer things."
"Oh! if we're up against aneducatedanimal," Steve admitted as though convinced against his will, "that might make a difference, because I've seen such do things I never would have believed any beast could be taught to perform. But he was keen enough to move all around here and never once get caught in the loop. Yes, chances are he knew what that was there for all the time; and having finished his supper, just to show us what he thought of such silly tricks he picks up this stick, gives it a hitch through the loop, jerks at the same, and there you are, with three half scared fellows crawling out of the tent expectin' to find a tiger held up by the hind quarters. This is what they call coming down from the sublime to the ridiculous, I think."
"It's all Bandy-legs' fault anyway!" muttered the disappointed Toby, as he commenced taking the pole out of the loop, as though he meant to reset his trap, hoping for better luck the next time.
"How do you make that out, I'd like to know!" asked Steve.
"Mebbe if he'd only been half way d-d-decent,and l-l-let me try it out on him, this wouldn't have h-h-happened," Toby advanced, at which the other boys felt constrained to chuckle.
"Hard luck, old chap," said Steve; "we'll help you fix things up again, and p'raps you'll strike it different the next time."
That sort of talk helped Toby forget his keen disappointment, so that he actually brightened up somewhat.
"All right, Steve; that's k-k-kind of you. I was g-g-going to ask if you'd care to test the thing for me; but we kind of k-k-know what she can do now. The way it gripped this stick shows how it would h-h-hang on like grim d-d-death."
"I'm going to ask you as a special favor, boys, not to tramp around here any more than you can help," said Max.
"Which I take it means you hope to learn something from finding tracks, when you can see in the daylight; is that the answer, Max?" Steve asked.
"Yes, and when you set the trap keep on this side. I should think that whatever it was picked up the bait might have gone off that other way," Max-continued, thoughtfully.
"Unless it came down the tree here, and went back the same way," Steve proposed. "We know already that the thief is a climber, don't we, Max?"
"You remember, Steve, that ham sailed out of a tree, and whizzed past your head," replied theone whose opinion had been asked. "Yes, and I had a glimpse of some moving object up among the branches, even if it did slip away before I could see whether it had the stripes of a tiger, the spots of an ocelot, or the gray coat of our American panther."
"Gee! but this thing is getting some exciting, for a fact!" Steve admitted; "and we'll all feel a heap sight easier in our minds when we do know just what sort of critter it is hanging around our camp, and trying to make a living off our stock of good grub."
"But Bandy-legs isn't caring whether school keeps or not," suggested Max, as they plainly heard a loud snore from the direction of the tent, where the other chum was evidently sleeping soundly.
"He'll hardly believe us when we tell him in the morning what happened," Steve went on to say. "And now that we've gone and set the old spring trap again, there's not a single thing to show for it, unless we're lucky enough to get our game the second time around."
"S-s-shucks!" muttered Toby just then.
"What's the matter?" asked Max.
"D-d-don't believe the thing'll come again; it's r-r-raining right now."
"Only a few drops, Toby, and they never make a storm, you know," Steve informed him. "We don't want to see any rain, and for one I won't believe it's going to visit us till I see it pouringcats and dogs. When it comes to the weather I never believe anything until it happens, and then, like as not it turns out a fizzle."
"Well, there's no use of our staying out here to get wet," remarked Max; "so I move the meeting be adjourned. All in favor call out aye!"
Both the others were of the same mind, for they hastened to add their voices to that of Max. And accordingly all of them crawled back under the waterproof tent, content to let things move along as they pleased, and quite sure that no matter how the rain did come down they would find their covering faithful to its trust.
Bandy-legs still slept on, and he looked so young and innocent lying there doubled up in a knot that none of the others found the heart to disturb him, but sought their respective nooks, and tried to compose themselves once more for a good sleep.
CHAPTER XIIA STRANGE DISAPPEARANCE
"What's the prospect for the day, fellows?" Steve asked in a loud voice, as he sat up, after throwing aside his blanket.
It was morning, though the sun had not yet shown up. Three other heads appeared in view instantly, for the sleepers had been satisfied to cuddle in their warm coverings, on account of the chill of the night, which must have gradually crept into the tent around the early hours.
"Looks to me as though it hadn't rained much after all," Bandy-legs announced.
"T-t-things a little w-w-wet out there," remarked Toby, who had hastened to thrust his head part way through the opening near which he lay; "but it's all r-r-right, fellows, because I c'n see b-b-blue s-s-sky overhead."
They were soon dressed, and ready to begin the business of the day. The camp fire was not hard to start, thanks to their wisdom in procuring plenty of dry fuel when they had the chance; and breakfast began to send out appetizing odors that excited their appetites—though that was hardly necessary, since normal boys are always in condition to do their share of eating.
As usual they talked of various things while they sat around, each in his favorite attitude, disposing of the meal.
Bandy-legs seemed to have something on his mind, which he took this opportunity for venting, for when a little lull occurred in the conversation he turned to Max, and went on to say:
"After all we forgot something yesterday, Max."
"That so, Bandy-legs? Well, I hope it wasn't such a big thing that it'll upset any of our plans."
"T-t-tell us what?" Toby ventured, as well as he could, considering how full his mouth was of food.
"Oh! you're not in this, Toby," the other assured the stutterer; "and I'm not much s'prised at me forgetting, but it's queer Max should, because he nearly always remembers."
"Then it must have been something connected with the little excursion the two of us took yesterday?" Max guessed.
"Just what it was," said Bandy-legs. "We didn't think to ask Mrs. Ketcham about whether they kept a bull or not; and you know we said we would, because that might explain the awful growling noise we heard and which sounded like an escaped lion roaring."
Max laughed softly.
"I admit that we didn't bother asking her about it, Bandy-legs," he remarked; "but that was because there was no need."
"But why?" insisted the other, greedily.
"Oh! I happened to see the bull myself," replied Max, quietly.
"Pretty good evidence, that, I'd say," chuckled the amused Steve; "and so far as I c'n tell, your lamps are in good condition, Max. Seeing is believing, they say."
"And you didn't even bother to tell me, either; was that just fair!" the aggrieved Bandy-legs wanted to know.
"Well," Max told him, "it happened when you were helping Mrs. Ketcham do something with the eggs, and I guess I must have forgotten all about it afterwards, because we had a lot of other things to talk about. But happening to look out of the window in the direction of the barn I just glimpsed the heavy-set head of a big Jersey bull sticking out of a hole that must have been made in his stall so as to give him air. He was sniffing, as if he knew there were strangers around; but when I looked again he had drawn his head in, and so I forgot all about him."
Toby heaved a disappointed sigh.
"That knocks all my c-c-chances of g-g-gettin' an old he lion this trip!" they heard him mutter.
"Well, did you ever?" ejaculated Steve, staring hard at the other; "just think of the nerve of him, would you, expecting to bag a terrible man-eating lion in a trap like that! Honest now, I really believe Toby here'd be happy if he could only go home in a few days with a whole menagerie trailing behind him—elephant, rhinoceros, camel, lion,tiger, and a ring-tailed monkey bringing up the rear."
"Oh! is that so?" Toby asked him, with a pretended sneer on his face; "and while you're about it, Steve, would you be so k-k-kind as to tell me what sort of a m-m-monkey that is? I never saw one in all my l-l-life."
"I guess you've got me there, Toby," laughed Steve; "because I never have, either, but I should say it was an ordinary monkey that could tie his tail up in knots whenever he wanted to keep it out of mischief, just like you turn up your trousers on a wet day."
They kept things humming until the meal was done; for every fellow had a desire to make his opinion known.
"Now what's the programme for to-day?" asked Max, as they untwisted themselves from their Turk-like sitting positions, and stretched to their full height.
"I'll tell you what I'm m-m-meaning to do," said Toby, "after we get d-d-done the breakfast d-d-dishes. F-f-frogs!"
"Oh! I see, you're worried about all that chorus work they kept up last night, and mebbe you think there were some who sang off-key, which bothers your musical ear, so you want to pick 'em out, and even things up," and Steve grinned as he said this, because he did not have as high an opinion of Toby's accomplishments in the line of music as he might.
"I'm not pretending to have any such c-c-classical n-n-notion," the accused one indignantly declared; "it's a c-c-case of dinner with me. I l-l-like frogs' legs, and they l-l-like me first-rate; so when things agree that way, what's the sense of k-k-keepin' 'em separate?"
"No use at all, Toby," admitted Steve, as though he had seen a great light, "and if you feel like growing a pair of frogs' legs in place of the ones you've got now, why, I wouldn't throw a thing in the way. Only I warn you it would be dangerous practicing singing frog songs by daylight."
Toby did not answer this thrust, only sniffed, and turned away.
Each of the others had a number of things scheduled for attention on this morning. The camp was in pretty good trim by now, but there always seems to be something that can be done in order to make it more cheerful; and Max was one of those fellows who like to potter around, making improvements.
Steve wanted to wander over in the direction of the farmhouse, and tried to find some good excuse for going; but the milk supply promised to hold out for the day, and they certainly would not need more eggs until the next morning.
The fact of the matter was he had heard the accounts of how Max and Bandy-legs had been so splendidly treated by Mrs. Ketcham with more or less envy; because it happened that Steve waspassionately fond of doughnuts of the old-fashioned New England cruller kind; and he hoped the farmer's wife might still have a nest of the same in her big stone crock.
He even suggested that possibly Bandy-legs might like to go with him, so as to take a picture of the big watchdog that had given him such a lively time, in order to keep the adventure green in his memory. But having other things laid out for that morning to keep him busy, the other chum respectfully but firmly declined to be coaxed into making a four mile tramp, when there was really no need of it.
So poor disappointed Steve had to give up for that day his hope of obtaining any of those choice doughnuts.
"And chances are," he was heard to mutter to himself as he started to get busy with something or other, "they'll be clean eaten up by another day; but that's always my luck when doughnuts are around. It's too mean for anything."
However Steve was too good-natured a fellow to remain gloomy very long at a stretch, and in ten minutes they heard him trolling a comical ditty as he worked away, showing that his "doughnut fever" had calmed down sensibly.
Meanwhile Toby after awhile made ready to wander over in the direction of the pond where that frog chorus inspired him with high hopes of reaping a bountiful harvest.
He had arranged a long stout pole, with a shortline and a hook at the small end. This latter he ornamented with a piece of bright red flannel some two inches square and supplied by Max, which he was wise enough to tie securely to the shank of the hook, well up from the barb, but so it concealed the point.
He also carried the trouting basket slung over his shoulder by the canvas strap, and made sure that his hunting knife had a good edge to it, for he meant to fix the frogs as he took them, thus saving himself more or less of a burden in carrying the useless portions along with him.
"Steve, would you m-m-mind doing me a g-g-great favor?" Toby asked, as he stood there all ready to make a start.
"Sure I wouldn't mind, Toby; what is it?" the other asked quickly.
"I'd like to c-c-carry your g-g-gun along with me," said Toby.
"Not to shoot frogs with, I hope?" remarked Bandy-legs, in high scorn.
"K-k-keep out of this, p-p-please, Bandy-legs," the other told him. "Steve knows I wouldn't be g-g-guilty of doing that. But you see, a feller can't tell what he might run up against these d-d-days, when there's some k-k-kind of mysterious animal p-p-prowlin' around. D-d-did you s-s-say yes, Steve?"
"You're as welcome to the little Marlin as flowers in spring, Toby," Steve told him; "and here, put several more shells in your pocket. RememberI've got a couple with buckshot loaded in the barrels right now. If so be youhaveto use the gun, be sure you know what you're banging away at, because they'd have you up for murder if you hit a poor man with that charge."
"Oh! I'll be careful, sure I will, Steve; and t-t-thank you ever so m-m-much for lending it to me," with which the overjoyed Toby shouldered the weapon, and started forth.
"Sure you know where the pond lies, do you?" asked Max; "and don't forget that the camp is due southeast of the same. When you start home take your bearings, and if you're in doubt even once, give us a whoop. Sometimes its possible to get lost in the woods, and that means a heap of trouble, don't it, Bandy-legs?"
"Well, if you change that to a swamp I can say yes, all right, because I have been there, and know," was the answer the query brought out.
But Toby had no such fear. He had spent considerable time in the open, so that he had learned many useful lessons, though he sometimes did allow himself to grow more or less careless. The pond was not so very far away but what he could make those by the campfire hear if he wished to shout; and surely a fellow must be a fool who could get lost under such conditions.
He made a bee-line through the woods, as nearly as the nature of the undergrowth would allow such a thing. Before long he had arrived in sight of the pond, which he was pleased to seecovered many acres, and had the appearance of a splendid haunt for great big greenbacked frogs.
He could hear them grunting in various places, and this made Toby's heart beat high with hope, for he was especially fond of the sport; though not cruel enough to have indulged in it just for the sake of killing the high jumpers; but the thought of the feasts to come spurred him on to do his best.
It is not always the easiest thing in the world to circumvent a shrewd old grandfather frog who has long grown suspicious of everything that walks on two feet. To crawl up close enough to him to softly push your pole far out, so that the red lure dangles in front of his nose and within a few inches, often requires considerable labor, and necessitates more or less skill as well.
Toby soon became intensely interested in his work. He would stand the gun up against a certain tree while he ranged the immediate shore, and possibly made several captures. It was not long before he was sorry he had bothered fetching the firearm at all, because there seemed no reason for doing so, and it made him many unnecessary steps.
His success was phenomenal, and for an hour he kept moving around the edge of the pond, the banks of which were heavily wooded for the most part.
By that time he had almost two dozen "saddles" in his trout creel, and it was beginning tobother him by feeling heavy; as well as slipping forward while he crept along on hands and knees, in order to get close to some monster who seemed suspicious, and had to be approached carefully.
Finally Toby fell into the habit of leaving the basket along with his gun. When he made a capture he would immediately kill the frog, and toss him over to where these things lay, if within throwing distance. Then, when ready to move further on it was his habit to dress those victims he had gathered meanwhile, after which he allowed himself to be tempted to proceed "just a little further." That is always the way when frog-hunting; one may decide that he has really obtained enough for the time being; but then the conditions may never be as good again; and some of the spoils can easily be kept over until another day by immersing them in cold water.
So Toby toiled on, creeping, sliding, crawling, and doing about everything an active, ambitious hunter might, in pitting his powers against a wary species of quarry that had only to make one big jump in order to baffle all his plans.
Finally he knew that the creel would not hold many more of those big "saddles," and accordingly Toby promised himself that he would surely stop when he had taken just five, in addition to those already bagged.
Three times he tossed a victim over to the bank, where he could see the gun and the basket. A fourth fell into his hands after a long stealthrough some reeds, and having put an end to the victim's struggles, Toby turned to throw him to the bank, after which he would look for the very last frog he meant to take.
He did not throw that defunct jumper, however, although his hand was drawn back to make the cast. Instead Toby stood there staring, a wrinkle stealing between his eyes just above his nose, as it always did when the boy was puzzled.
"Now, what's that m-m-mean?" he grumbled to himself, as he started post-haste toward the bank. "Mebbe Steve's come out to s-s-see how I'm doing, and he's j-j-just snuck my b-b-basket away for f-f-fun. There's the g-g-gun aleanin' 'gainst that tree all right, but where's my b-b-bully lot of f-f-frogs, I want to know?"
And indeed it was just as Toby said; for the shotgun could be plainly seen where he had laid it, against the base of a tree-trunk; but the trout creel filled almost to the lid with the delicious white meat "saddles" of his many victims had mysteriously vanished!