“Bah! who’s afraid?” retorted Bumpus, with a shrug of his plump shoulders; “but you want to keep your hands off me, for I’ll kick and bite like fun if set on. I know you’re just trying to see if you can’t convince me against my own good sense. This atmosphere seems all right to me; though I admit I don’t just like the looks of this black swamp water, and the ooze we meet up with sometimes.”
Giraffe gave him a last piercing look; then as if making up his mind that the case was utterly hopeless, he shook his head and turned away; while Bumpus went back to his camp duties as blithely as though care sat lightly on his head.
After they had finished breakfast the tents were struck, folded in as small a compass as possible, and one stowed away in each of the boats. Afterwards they cleaned up the camp, and made sure that nothing worth while was left.
There had been certain portions of the razorback that they did not mean to take along with them. Seeing Bumpus busily engaged Thad approached, asking:
“What are you up to here, old fellow? Just as I thought, trying to do a little favor for that wretch of a three-fingered coon, by tying up this meat where the animals will have a hard time getting at it. Yes, you guessed right that time, for the chances are he’ll come back here as soon as he knows we’ve gone, in the hopes of picking up some scraps we’ve tossed aside. Bumpus, you’re improving, because that shows you figured it all out, and hit the bull’s-eye in the bargain.”
The fat scout looked immensely pleased to hear Thad talk in this strain.
“Well, after eating such a jolly breakfast myself, it struck me as pretty sad we should be so near a miserable human being who was almost starved. No matter if he is a bad man, and deserves all he’s getting, he’s made like us, and I just reckon the lot of us would be quite as tough as he is if we’d never had the benefit of a nice home and education and full stomachs. And so I thought, as he’d be likely to come here, I’d save these pieces from the cats and skunks for him.”
“It sure does your big heart credit, Bumpus, and that is the way a true scout ought to feel pretty much all the time,” Thad went on to say, looking affectionately at his stout chum. “Now, if he only gets here soon enough, there’ll be red ashes in the bed of our fire, and he can start it up again, so as to do his cooking.”
“Oh!” said Bumpus, with a happy gurgle, “I thought all that out, too, Thad. See, here in this paper is half of my matches. I can spare ’em easy enough; and every one will be worth a heap to him, I guess.”
At that evidence of thoughtfulness Thad clapped his hand on the shoulder of Bumpus, and as he turned away remarked:
“They can talk about you all they please, Bumpus, and make fun of the onion odor about your old suit with more or less truth; but you’re certainly making better progress along the lines of scout lore than most of the boys who think themselves your superiors.”
And that sort of earnest praise made Bumpus beam with happiness all morning long.
The camp spot was deserted shortly after this little talk between Bumpus and Thad. And for some hours they continued to press slowly along, following such channels as Thad believed to be most promising.
All the time he kept in mind that they were trying to come across a man and a girl who were supposed to have a place of hiding somewhere in this swamp; and so he considered this fact every time he had to make any sort of choice concerning taking one channel or another, invariably selecting that which he fancied had been used more than the other.
He had to decide from mute evidence. It might be only a broken branch that told him a boat had possibly scraped against a bush in making a short turn; or the fact that he believed he could see a sort of regular line of marked places, as though some one besides themselves had resorted to the same means of blazing their trail in order to be able to go out whenever they felt inclined, without running the danger of losing their way among all those endless channels, and never being able to leave the confines of that horrible swamp.
All this while it had been getting worse and worse, the heavy growth enclosing them in a narrow canal at times, so that they had serious doubts as to whether they were doing the right thing, or had wandered far from the proper channel.
It was while they were pushing steadily onward that Bumpus, who was nodding as he lazily paddled, suddenly heard Thad in the stern cry in thrilling tones:
“Lookout, Bumpus, there’s a water moccasin just over your head on that limb, and acting like he’d drop in the boat. There! throw yourself back, Bumpus, quick now, I tell you!”
Now, if there was anything in the wide world that could give the fat scout a real hard scare, it had to do with snakes. Had he been told that there was a yellow-eyed wildcat crouching on a limb, and evidently planning to spring straight at him, Bumpus might have exhibited a certain degree of courage, and at least have tried to reach around in search of his gun; but a hideous, squirming snake was quite a different proposition.
And only that morning he had heard Thad tell about how venomous these numerous water moccasins were; how indeed, in some places, their bite is feared only second to that of a rattler; for while immediate death does not as a rule take place, often the wound will turn into an open running sore, and create no end of bother.
And so doubtless that brain of Bumpus’ instantly sent a “wireless” to other parts of his body, giving the alarm. Certain it is that at the very same instant the squirming object flashed before his eyes, falling in the boat directly ahead of Bumpus, who was in the bow, he made one magnificent backward splurge, his feet kicking violently every-which way, as in imagination he felt the fangs of the intruder fastened in his leg.
It was a sight never to be forgotten by those other scouts; though had not the canoe been very staunch the chances were that Bumpus in his frantic zeal to part company with the moccasin must have tipped the craft over, and deposited himself as well as his three companions in the water.
Even as he kept both legs working like the piston rods of an engine Bumpus was letting out roars that would have done credit to an angry bull. He afterwards confessed that it seems to be the one prominent feature in his mind that Thad had told them to make all the splash and noise they could if ever they were threatened by these contemptible water moccasins, as that would frighten them away. And as Giraffe afterwards avowed, the noise that Bumpus created would have given his comrades the one grand scare of their lives, had they not known the origin of it all. Bumpus actually took that as a compliment, too, mind you.
“Keep still, Bumpus, or you’ll upset the boat!” shouted Thad, sternly; and he had to exert himself to be heard above all the row.
“You’re safe enough, silly; he won’t jump at you!” cried Davy Jones, who had all he could manage with the head of the fat scout in his lap, and those legs going like the arms of a windmill in a stiff gale.
“Gimme just one chance to whack the beggar!” demanded Step Hen, who had managed to pick up the push pole, which was carried in case they became fast in the mud at any time, and must depend on brawn and muscle to get clear.
As the result of all these objurgations Bumpus recovered enough sense to slightly raise his head, so that he could take a peep. He discovered that the moccasin had coiled in the very bow, and was acting as though intending to retain possession of the canoe; for it kept thrusting venomously with its head, and showed a nasty disposition in the way it opened its mouth.
But Step Hen poised the push pole as though he meant business.
“Duck your head, Bumpus!” he called out; at which the other hastened to obey, not in the least inclined to feel the heft of that stout pole.
He heard a crash, and gave a yelp.
“Hey! that was my left foot you hit! Quit knocking me!” was his plaint.
“Well, you wouldn’t give me enough room!” declared Step Hen, complacently; “but it’s all right, Bumpus, you suffered in a good cause, and that ought to repay you. I got him, and he isn’t agoing to jab you this trip, mark my words!”
So Bumpus, despite his pain, raised his head again far enough to see that Step Hen had indeed settled the snake; for it was wriggling aimlessly this way and that, trying to strike even in its death throes, such was its venomous nature.
“Toss it overboard, Step Hen!” ordered the scout-master.
Managing to get the point of the pole under its folds, the other hastened to do so, and the struggling reptile floated off, much to the relief of all those who had been menaced, especially poor Bumpus, who was nursing his toes, and grumbling that he had “to pay the fiddler even if he didn’t dance.”
“I hope now that pesky thing didn’t go and get a bite at me unbeknown,” he said, as though a new feeling of alarm had suddenly taken possession of him; and though the rest laughed at the idea, nothing would ease the mind of the stout boy until he had taken off his leggings and closely examined both shins; when he felt relieved of his anxiety.
Of course the talk among the boys for some time afterwards was in connection with these dangers that are ever present in Southern waters, especially those of the swamps.
And again Thad cautioned them to beware how they allowed a moccasin to become in any way familiar.
“I reckon,” remarked Step Hen, after listening to these warnings, “that there ain’t any place agoing where the watchwords of Boy Scouts come in better’n they do down here; because, seems to me a fellow’s got to ‘be prepared’ about all the time. What with hungry alligators ready to make a meal off your feet; poisonous snakes dropping off slanting trees; bobcats waiting in the crotches above for a chance to scratch you into ribbons; escaped convicts atrying to steal about everything you own; and so-forth, it wouldn’t be a bad scheme to own three pair of eyes and ears to keep on guard.”
Thad was keeping up his watchful tactics of the preceding afternoon as they thus slowly advanced into the depths of Alligator Swamp. He did not wish to make an error of judgment, if it could possibly be avoided; for only too well did the boy know from past experiences how such a mistake can keep on swelling until the final consequences are simply tremendous.
So they kept on marking each bend that they turned, and Thad saw to it that he could pick up one “blaze,” if it could be termed such, from another. He also broke a smaller branch, always on the side they came from; so that if in doubt later on, it would be easy to make sure which way to go, a very wise precaution indeed, and one that Allan highly commended when he saw what was being done.
They did not hurry, since nothing was to be gained by making speed at the sacrifice of safety. And as they thus journeyed, it was perhaps only natural that, with the two canoes close together, one of the scouts should ask Thad further questions in connection with this man who had apparently taken such a peculiar dislike to the Brewster family, in that he could be suspected of having kidnapped the little girl sister whom Thad remembered so well as a baby.
“I was only a small chap at the time, which was nearly ten years ago,” Thad told them, as a strange look came over his young face, when thus recalling the past; “but I can remember him very well as a dashing looking man, smart enough too, but with a horrible temper, and some bad habits that finally got him into trouble; for he took things belonging to my folks, and was discharged from his position as manager of the property.
“That downfall he seemed to foolishly lay at the door of my mother, though to tell the truth she was only too lenient with the rascal, who should have been prosecuted, and sent to the penitentiary for a term of years. Then, later on, my baby sister strangely disappeared, and my mother never fully recovered from the shock; because although for some years she spent money like water, and had the best detectives in the country searching everywhere; but they never were able to find the least trace of poor little Pauline.
“Of course, sooner or later suspicion fell upon this Felix Jasper, and as he was located in New Orleans a close watch was kept upon his movements; but they found no reason to cause his arrest; and so it went until my poor mother finally left me alone, and Daddy Brewster, a brother of my father’s, came and brought me to his home in Cranford, where I met you fellows.”
“Which, I take it, was a red letter day for old Cranford!” declared Step Hen; “because right from the first you managed to inject more ginger into the boys than they’d ever known before. When you went off that summer to visit some other relative, and came back filled chuck full with Boy Scout business, didn’t you get every fellow in Cranford excited, and wasn’t the Silver Fox Patrol formed as a result?”
“Yes,” added Davy, for the subject was one that appealed to Thad’s close chums very much, “and whenever we played baseball, or any other game, wasn’t it you who took the lead, and made the name of Cranford respected through the whole county, where before it had always stood close to the bottom of the list? I should say we did strike it lucky when you came along the pike, Thad.”
“That’ll be enough for you, Davy; and suppose we change the subject,” remarked the scout-master; although his eyes snapped, and his cheeks grew red with pleasure to know that his comrades appreciated him so much.
“But do you reckon you’d ever be able to recognize this man if you set eyes on him again, Thad?” asked Bumpus, at this juncture.
“I am sure I would,” came the positive reply; “because he couldn’t have changed so much, only to look older. I’d never forget those snapping black eyes, and the straight nose, as well as the firm mouth. As I remember him, Felix wasn’t as cruel as he looked, but his temper often made him do things that perhaps he was sorry for afterwards, though he had a terribly stubborn disposition, and once started on a thing would carry it through, regardless of every consideration.”
“Did you ever hear of him after he was in New Orleans?” asked Allan, from the other canoe close by.
“I believe he prospered there for several years,” said Thad; “and then got into some sort of trouble. This same gentleman who wrote Daddy lately, used to keep him informed as to what Felix was doing, because somehow my uncle always believed that sooner or later something would be heard about my little sister through that man. Then came this letter stating that he had been seen near Alligator Swamp, and a girl in his company who might be some eleven years old; just what the age of Pauline must be if she is alive.”
“But when he was in New Orleans didn’t he have the girl with him?” demanded Giraffe, who was generally pretty keen when it came to asking questions.
“No, but then the chances were that he knew he was being kept under observation, and that at the time he was smart enough to have her at some other place. He did marry while in the city, but there were no children, and his wife left him, so we were told by the one who had been employed to keep tabs on the man, perhaps on account of his villainous temper.”
“Then you imagine that after he had to clear out from the city and hide, because of some crime he had done, this Felix Jasper may have gone and gotten the little girl, so that he would have company in his exile—is that it, Thad?” questioned Smithy, who had once known of a case something like that of the other, and could sympathize with his chum.
“That’s what I’m hoping, and what seemed to strike Daddy as perhaps the truth,” replied the other. “But if we have any decent kind of luck I’ll know more about it all before we start back home to Cranford again; because I’m determined to comb this old swamp through and through, asking every one I meet, to get pointers until I run across the man who was seen with a little girl. And if it turns out that after all he isn’t Felix, I’ll be feeling pretty sick, let me tell you. But something seems to keep telling me here,” and he laid a trembling hand in the region of his heart, “that there’s glorious news waiting for me; and every night I lie down I just pray with all my soul that it’s going to turn out that way.”
“So do we all, Thad, don’t we, fellows?” exclaimed Bumpus, soberly; and there was not one among the other six but who instantly expressed himself in the affirmative.
Thad quickly changed the subject, for he was feeling very much excited and shaken because of the sad memories recalled by his talk; and the other scouts, realizing that he did not wish to continue along those lines, readily fell in with his wishes in the matter.
The morning passed, and all of them noticed that it seemed to warm up greatly as the day advanced, until they had stripped their coats off, and with sleeves rolled up to their elbows as in the good old summer-time up North, paddled along under the arches of the closely growing trees. These were cypress for the most part, since these seem to do better in the midst of water than any other species; and their expanded butts always several times as large in girth as the trunks were five feet from the roots, gave the boys no end of argument as to the cause of such a strange growth.
“There!” suddenly exclaimed Bumpus, “that was an alligator bellering, Thad, wasn’t it? You said they generally talked just before dawn, but still one lonely fellow might happen to break the rule.”
“Wrong again, Bumpus, because that wasn’t any sort of animal or reptile,” the scout-master went on to say, with a smile.
“But you don’t mean to tell me abirdcould grumble like that, Thad?” continued the amazed Bumpus.
The rest set up a laugh.
“You sure have got snakes and ’gators on the brain, Bumpus!” declared Giraffe, scornfully. “Why, if you was up home right now, you’d aguessed like the rest of us did, that what you heard was the grumble of thunder, that’s all!”
“Oh! you can’t fool me that way, Giraffe!” chuckled Bumpus. “I may look green, but things ain’t always what they seem. Thunder, eh? And this is mighty near the end of December, too. Try again, Giraffe.”
“Yes, but don’t forget, Bumpus, where you are,” cautioned Thad. “This country in winter time can have anything we expect only in summer up North, and that stands for thunderstorms any month in the year. There, that was a louder peal; and now you’ll understand we’re not trying to make you swallow a tough yarn.”
“It sure did sound like it,” admitted the fat scout, “but I never thought we’d run up against a thunderstorm, or I’d have fetched my new raincoat along.”
“Goodness knows you did bring more than your share, as it is,” complained Step Hen. “You ought to have a boat all to yourself, because the rest of us don’t get a chance for our lives. But I say, Thad, do we stand for a ducking?”
“If I could see a chance to go ashore I’d say we might get the tents up, and hold over till the storm had passed by,” the scout-master replied.
“That’s where it’s agoing to be hard,” ventured Giraffe; “because right now there don’t seem to be a piece of ground as big as a postage stamp in sight; nothing but the fat butts of these here old cypresses, and low-hanging vines around. Reckon we must just stand for wet jackets, boys.”
“Wait, don’t give it up so easily,” said Thad. “Pull over to where those vines hang low, and see if you can’t manage to fasten your tent up in some sort of style, so that it’ll hang over the boat, and keep the rain off.”
“But how about the wind, won’t that blow her every which way?” asked Bob White.
“You’ll find precious little wind with this rain,” Thad assured him, “because it is so thick in the swamp here that we’ll be protected. You may hear it humming in the cypress tops, but hardly a ripple below.”
“Hurrah! that’s the ticket, then!” cried Bumpus, who did dislike to get wet more than almost anything; yet who often managed to stumble, and fall into lakes and duck ponds in a way that was most exasperating. “Anyhow, if the worst does come, I’ve got my old duds on.”
“Yes, we know you have, sure we do, Bumpus,” Davy made sure to call out, as his face took on an expression of pain that made Giraffe laugh; for just then the latter being in the other boat, was separated from Thad’s craft by a dozen yards of water, and to windward at the same time.
It was found that the plan proposed by Thad was possible of execution. Happily the vines came down low enough for the boys to secure the tents in such a way that they could be spread out, and thus cover most all the boats’ surface.
“This is what I call a boss scheme,” Giraffe was heard to call out, from under the dun-colored canvas that was wobbling violently, as the boys made out to secure the ends the best they could, and in this way hold the boats steady.
“Did you ever know Thad to think up one that wasn’t the best going?” demanded Smithy; who was really the latest recruit in the patrol, though he had learned a great many things since joining, and long ago ceased to merit the opprobrious title of “greenhorn” or “tenderfoot.”
“Listen! I think I hear the rain!” called out Thad, more to break in upon this flattering line of talk than because it was necessary to draw attention to the pattering of the drops upon the canvas covers.
“That’s right; and I tell you we didn’t get fixed any too soon, fellows!” Bumpus exclaimed, as he snuggled down in comfort, holding on to his share of the tent as though half expecting, despite the reassuring words of Thad, to presently feel the same violently torn from his clutch by the gale unless he fastened to it with the tenacity of a bull terrier.
Inside of three minutes the rain was coming down heavily, while the thunder proceeded to crash with all the vim of a real summer storm up home.
“One good thing,” declared Giraffe, between outbursts, and when the rain seemed to let up a little, “we don’t have to depend on the walking any; and after it’s all over we can go right ahead as well as ever.”
“Mebbe it’ll raise the swamp level some,” advanced Step Hen, “and we won’t be apt to run on the mud banks, like we did more’n a few times.”
“Getting lighter all the while, boys; and I guess she’ll soon quit!” Giraffe went on to remark; and they all agreed with him.
“Did anybody get wet?” asked Allan, when it seemed as though the storm had passed over, and was rumbling away in the dim distance, having gone to the northeast.
“Nary a drop!” Bumpus triumphantly declared.
“Huh! there might be fellows mean enough to wish somebodyhadgone and got soaked through and through; for then he’d have to bring out his new suit, and wear the same,” Davy growled.
Bumpus was seen to be glaring suspiciously at the speaker when the wet tent was taken down in the most careful manner possible.
“I really believe you wouldn’t care a red cent, Davy Jones,” he said, sternly, “if I happened to make a bad step, and walked overboard. Fact is, I’m agoing to keep my eye on you after this. Like to have me get my old suit wet, would you, so I’d justhaveto make the change; well, I wouldn’t put it past you to give me a little shove, or trip me up, so I’d take a header. Better take care, because there’s a limit to my good nature. Some fellows can be coaxed to do nearly anything, but they object to being driven.”
“Listen to him talk, would you?” cried Davy, pretending to be hurt by the accusation of the other, though there was a gleam in his eyes that told he had been given an idea by Bumpus’ remark. “You make me think of the traveler that the sun and the wind picked out as a victim, to see which was the stronger. He had a cloak on, and the one that managed to get it off was to be the victor. So the wind tried as hard as anything, but the traveler only wrapped his cloak tighter around him. Then the sun got hotter’n hotter, till he just couldn’t hardly breathe; so what does he do but throw away his cloak; and of course the sun won, hands down.”
“Chestnut!” gibed Giraffe, from the other boat; “ten to one even six suns couldn’t force Bumpus to shed his coat when once he’d made up his mind to keep it on. Just like that stubborn will of his, it grows stronger and stronger all the time.”
“Yes,” added Davy, “and every little while you can see him sitting by the fire, with his chin held in his hand and a far-away look in his eyes; and then you know he’s cracking his poor brain trying to remember what happened to that five cents’ worth of medicine he can’t remember what he did with.”
“Didn’t I tell you again and again that the money part don’t enter into this matter at all?” demanded Bumpus. “It’s just because I was so wretchedly careless, that it keeps wearing on my mind. I ought to know what I did with that stuff; and I’m bound to figure it out, or bust a boiler atrying. Didn’t Thad tell us that was a good trait in a scout? Ain’t being determined what every good scout ought to try’n practice? Didn’t he tell us about how the hungry wolf over in Siberia will set out on the track of a deer in the snow, and keep everlastingly after him, even if the chase seems silly to begin with; but nearly every time he’ll get his game before he quits, just by his pertinacity. That’s what I am, one of the stick-at-it kind.”
“You never said truer words, Bumpus!” coughed Davy, toward the stern of the boat, “some things are like a rolling snowball, they keep on getting bigger’n bigger the longer they exist. But every dog has his day, and we live in hopes that something’ll happen to make you change your mind about that same coat.”
When the tents had been squeezed as dry as possible, the forward progress was resumed, all of them feeling rather light-hearted over the clever way in which they had cheated the storm. It always gives a boy a sense of superiority to feel that he has come out first best in a battle with Nature.
Some of the scouts doubtless began to wonder how they were ever going to locate the man and the girl, deep in the gloomy recesses of Alligator Swamp; but those who kept their wits about them, and watched what Thad was doing, must have ere this come to the conclusion that he had not been wandering aimlessly about all this time, but on the contrary had some definite plan of campaign in view, which he kept constantly following.
In fact, Thad was on the alert for any sort of sign that would tell him some other boat had been in the habit of passing along through these channels. Allan at times called his attention to certain indications along those lines. And it was in the hope that this other boat might be the one containing the man and the girl, whose presence here had drawn him from his faraway Northern home, that Thad continued to pursue his set course.
As the afternoon began to wear away, after they had partaken of a light cold lunch that was not at all satisfactory to Giraffe, who declared at its close he was nearly starved, all of them began to keep a bright look-out for some decent sort of dry land where they might camp for the coming night.
“Because,” said Smithy, who liked plenty of room, “it would be manifestly next to impossible for four fellows to stretch out comfortably in such a narrow craft as this canoe,”—Smithy always liked to use big words, and was moreover very precise in his mode of speech, but a pretty good fellow all the same, a great change having come over him since he took up being a scout, and ceased to cater to his former “sissy” weaknesses along the line of extreme “dudishness,” as Giraffe always called it.
“Well, I should say, yes,” burst forth Davy Jones; “if you think you’d have a bad time, just cast your eye over this way and tell me what’d become of us, once Bumpus started stretching himself out all over the boat. When he’s sitting up it’s bad enough, but lying down would make the situation er—er——”
“Intolerable, I suppose you mean, Davy,” supplemented Smithy, promptly.
“Yes, in more ways than one it would be,” declared the Jones boy, darkly.
“Well, don’t worry,” Bumpus told him, calmly; “because right now I guess Thad’s got his eye on a real nice camp site, if that grin on his face stands for anything, and I think it does. How about it, Mr. Scout-master; have you struck solid land?”
“I see a place ahead that looks kind of good to me,” Thad replied; “but because lots of things don’t happen to turn out as well as they promise, we’ll have to wait till we get there before we’ll know for sure. And as we’re all tired of prowling around in this way for one day, I think we’ll hold up, providing the chance comes along.”
“Even half a chance, Thad,” urged Davy, hurriedly; “don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Beggars shouldn’t be choosers, my ma always says, when I begin to hesitate about taking something that’s offered. Half a loaf’s some better’n no bread. And as for me, I’m fairlywildto get out and stretch my weary limbs, and also mingle with my other pards.”
“Other pards, huh!” sniffed Bumpus, who knew very well that this was intended as another little fling at him, though it failed to make even a dent in his resolution not to give in to the requests of these complaining fellows.
They were soon alongside the patch of high ground discovered by Thad; and when they found that it offered a splendid site for a dry camp, all of them were pleased. The way they proceeded to tumble out of the boats told that their limbs had been more or less cramped by sitting so long, for as many as seven hours had elapsed since they embarked.
In spite of the time that had been spent in pushing along, they could not have made as great progress as might be expected; for on numerous occasions Thad was compelled to admit that he had taken a false channel; after which they had to go back over their course, destroying the marks that had been left, so they might not later on mislead them again, until a new start could be made.
First of all they jumped up and down on the land, and performed all manner of gymnastic feats, with the object of getting out the “kinks,” as Giraffe explained it. Davy Jones was up a tree like a flash, and swinging there as jauntily as any Borneo gorilla could have done; in fact the Jones boy never seemed so happy as when he could hang with his head down, and his toes caught on a branch. If he chanced to slip, he was as agile as a cat, and would clutch some new hold. They say that it is seldom a squirrel misses connections when jumping from one tree to another; and surely no boy ever came nearer to being a human squirrel than did Davy Jones.
“Now, if you’ve got limbered up enough,” said Thad presently, “come and help me get the duffel ashore, so we can look after the boats, as usual.”
Everybody was willing, and many hands make light work, so the tents and all other things came ashore at a lively rate.
Thad had just thrown down a package he had been carrying, when he was seen to stand and look down at it critically, and then shake his head, as though trying to figure something out.
“What ails you, Thad?” called out Giraffe, who happened to be near by, and noticed this queer action on the part of the scout-master. “I hope, now, we haven’t been and lost anything?” for Giraffe was always in fear lest the food supply be cut short.
“No, but perhaps there’s a chance we may,” replied the other, with a grin.
“You don’t say; and what might it be?” demanded Davy, becoming interested.
“Why, a sudden idea struck me, that’s all,” replied Thad. “To tell you the truth fellows, perhaps you’ve been treating our chum Bumpus shamefully all the while, in accusing him as you have of wearing clothes that are greasy and loud; because I’ve got a notion that I’ve located the source of this bad odor we’ve been suffering from two whole days and nights.”
“Oh! joy! joy!” cried Giraffe, upon hearing this great news.
“Thad, we all look on you as a public benefactor!” Bob White chipped in; though thus far he had said very little about the annoyance the strange odor was causing them; because he was a boy of few words as a rule; and then again, he had not been compelled to remain in the same boat, or sleep under the same canvas as the scout on whose soiled garments suspicion had fallen.
“The best news I’ve heard in many a long day!” declared Smithy.
“Now!” was all Davy Jones gave utterance to, but the word was uttered with what seemed to be almost savage satisfaction; and his eyes at the time were turned full on poor Bumpus, who of course squirmed uneasily in his seat by the fire, where he was fixing the coffee, and looked unhappy, as well as anxious.
“Please go on and tell us, Mr. Scout-master!” called out Step Hen; “if this old stuffy cold in the head I’ve got from Bumpus has kept me from having the pleasure of enjoying the mystery with you all, I’ve sure heard enough grunting and complaining to excite my curiosity to the limit. What’s the answer?”
“Gather around, then,” said Thad; and they began to form a circle; “here, we want you too, Bumpus, so leave your coffee-making, while you listen, and give your vote; for if the majority decides I’m right, we won’t be bothered any more with an unpleasant neighbor.”
“Say, I hope you don’t mean to kill him?” remarked Davy, pretending to shoot a glance of brotherly commiseration in the direction of the fat scout; “or chase him out of the camp to herd by himself.”
But somehow Bumpus had taken new courage from what he heard Thad remark, and as he came shuffling up with the rest, he was saying to himself:
“Huh! think you’re smart, don’t you, Davy Jones, but just wait. Who’s afraid, anyway?”
“All here, Thad!” sang out Allan, impatiently.
“And waiting to hear the explanation of the mystery that’s been bothering the whole patrol—leastwise, all but Bumpus and Step Hen, who ain’t any good just now at ferreting out things, because they do nothing but blow, blow all day long,” and Giraffe loomed head and shoulders above the rest of his mates as he faced Thad.
“Well, I’m going to pass it along now, and I want every one to take a good whiff, after which he is to give his opinion whether this is the offending package or not.”
Saying this the scout-master picked up a stout paper bag that had been lying at his feet, the top tied with a string, and handed it solemnly to Giraffe, who happened to be his next neighbor on the right.
“Our fine onions!” gasped Step Hen, as he recognized the shape of the bag.
Giraffe held the package up close to his nose, and seemed to draw in a long breath, after which he gave utterance to the one expressive word:
“Jerusalem!”
“What do you say, Giraffe?” demanded the patrol leader, grimly, “guilty or not guilty?”
The elongated scout immediately wagged his head vigorously in the affirmative.
“About the same class of odor that’s been bothering us right along, Thad, sure it is; and I just reckon you’ve been and run our trouble down. Them onions are getting old and soft, and everybody knows how rank they are when that happens. Whew! who’s next?”
“Pass it along!” demanded Bob White at his right shoulder; “I’m a good judge of onions, and I’ll soon settle this thing for you all.”
He too held the offending bag up near his nose; it hardly needed words to tell what his verdict was, for his face became screwed up in a manner that could only stand for condemnation.
“Giraffe, I’m with you!” he observed, as he hastened to give the bag to Smithy, next in line.
And so it went the rounds, even the grinning Bumpus being allowed to have his chance at declaring what he thought.
“Well, I should say itwasbad,” the fat boy remarked, as he held it close, and kept sniffing away vigorously. “If that’s the stuff I don’t wonder you fellows kept kicking up such a row about it. But it was mean to pick on me for nothing. I tell you these old clothes ain’t soverytough after all. Maybe you’ll get down on your ham-bones now, and tell me how sorry you all are. Maybe you’ll be begging me to let you come back in the boat with you, Giraffe; but don’t bother, because I’m agoing to stick with Thad. He never took a mean advantage of me like some or the rest did, just because I’m little and can’t stand up for myself. Huh! who’s so smart now, tell me?”
Giraffe and Davy answered him not a word. No doubt, just then they really felt humiliated, as though conscience stricken, in that they had accused and condemned poor Bumpus without a hearing.
“But what’s going to be done about it?” asked Smithy. “We surely can’t think of carrying those offensive onions along with us any more, after all the trouble they’ve gone and made for us.”
“Course not, they’ve just got to go!” declared Davy, positively.
Giraffe looked unhappy.
“And me so fond of fried onions I always said I’d never be caught camping without some along,” he whimpered, mournfully.
“But you’re the one that made the biggest fuss of the whole lot!” cried Bumpus; “why, you even mademenervous, and I was afraid my fighting blood would be worked up soon, if things kept on like they were. Sure you couldn’t vote to keep the old things, after Thad’s found out what they stand for?”
“I s’pose not, boys,” replied the tall scout, sadly; “we’ll have to do without the appetizing onion after this; but it’s going to be hard on me. My appetite’ll fall away, and you’ll see me getting thinner and thinner every day.”
“Well, we can use you for a bread knife then,” remarked Bumpus, composedly; “because if you grew much sharper than you are, that’s about the only thing you’d be good for. But if them onions smell so rank, what’s the use of throwing the same away, when we’ll be apt to know they’re around all night. They ought to be put underground, don’t you think, Thad?”
“That’s a good idea, Bumpus; give me the camp hatchet, and I’ll dig a grave over here, so we can have a regular burial. Form in line, fellows, for the ceremony.”
Entering into the spirit of the occasion the whole eight scouts formed into a procession, and with Thad in the lead, bearing the hatchet in one hand, and the condemned bag of soft onions in the other, held as far away from his nose as possible, they started to walk solemnly along, heading for a spot that the leader had picked out as suitable for the ceremony of burial.
And as they thus stalked along the boys began to chant in unison that old song: “John Brown’s body lies amouldering in the grave, as we go marching on!”
And so, with the hatchet a hole was speedily excavated, and the offending object placed therein; after which the earth was hastily scraped over, until six inches of soil rested upon the bag.
“There, that’s what I call a good job!” remarked Giraffe, with a relieved look on his face, as they started back to where the fire burned merrily. “It’ll seem like another world, now that we won’t have to keep sniffing around all the time.”
“Yes, and saying all sorts of mean things about my bully old suit that’s stood by me through thick and thin, until I’ve just come to love the same!” Bumpus up and told the chief offender.
“Oh! well, let it go at that, Bumpus,” muttered the tall scout. “A fellow is apt to get on the wrong trail once in a while, you know; even Thad here will do that same. We thought we was right, and acted accordingly. And now we’ll give you a little rest, though we’d all be glad if you did make up your mind to change that greasy old suit for your spic and span clean one. Guess you’ll take a notion that way some fine day, won’t you?”
“Huh! keep on guessing!” grunted Bumpus; though he appeared to be wearing a perpetual grin, now that his innocence seemed to have been so amply proven.
After this little incident preparations for passing the night were continued, the tents being raised, and the fire encouraged to reach that stage where Giraffe and his assistant might have all the red coals needed in order to properly carry out the cooking operations as usual.
Davy was wandering around, still eying Bumpus suspiciously, as though not wholly satisfied in his mind that all the trouble was over; but the fat scout had been vindicated at the hands of Thad, so what cared he if Davy chose to show his poor judgment, when everybody else seemed satisfied.
Once Davy even wandered over to where the burial of the onions had taken place, and with his foot scraped even more soil over the spot, as though he wanted to be doubly sure they had confined everything in that hole.
When the supper was finally ready it was a merry group that squatted around, for Giraffe always felt particularly joyous when about to satisfy his acute hunger, and on this particular occasion he believed he had a double reason to rejoice, in that the food supply was bounteous, and a baffling mystery had been solved, so there would be no further reason for his keeping awake nights, trying to guess the answer, and making things unpleasant for poor Bumpus.