“Beats everything, and after this we ain’t got any business to look on Bumpus as a big baby. He got out of that hole just fine,” Step Hen would add.
Half an hour later, Allan came to a sudden halt.
“Ashes of a fire!” he remarked, pointing to his feet.
“Then here’s where Bumpus must a spent last night?” suggested Step Hen, looking curiously about.
“Wonder what he had to eat?” remarked Giraffe.
“Oh! plenty of grub,” Thad said, laughingly. “Look, here’s the rind from a slice of our ham. Davy said he’d cut some off.”
“Think of the nerve of him,” declared Step Hen. “But I just can see this rough experience is goin’ to be the makin’ of Bumpus.”
“Reminds me of the story of the bull pup,” remarked Thad, laughing. “You know, the boy had brought home a young bulldog, and the old man, to encourage the pup, had gone down on his hands and knees to bark at him, when the dog grabbed him by the nose and held on like fun. And while the old man was trying to break away, the boy was sicking the dog on, all the time shouting: ‘Stand it, dad, stand it as long as you can, because it’s going to be the making of the pup!’”
Allen had been bending over the fire while all this talk was going on. He now looked up to remark:
“Guess he stuck several potatoes in his bag, too, before he started out,” and he held up a couple of blackened skins, showing that the interior had been gauged out after the potatoes had been baked in the hot ashes.
“Good for Bumpus, he’s learning to take care of himself fast,” cried Thad.
“That isn’t all,” remarked Allan, smiling.
“What next?” asked Thad.
“Bumpus shows he’s bound to be something of a hunter yet,” declared Allan, “and what he learned up in Maine has been in his mind ever since.”
“Do you mean about leaving fires burning when breaking camp, and the danger of the wind carrying the hot ashes among the dead leaves?” the scoutmaster went on to say, for he had eyes of his own, and had been watching Allan’s actions even while talking with the others.
“That’s just what I do mean,” the other continued. “In the first place Bumpus knew enough to make his camp close to running water, so he could get a drink whenever he wanted it.”
“I see he did,” Thad went on to say, glancing toward the gurgling little stream that ran not twenty feet away.
“And when he left here this morning,” continued Allan, “he made sure to carry water from the creek and sprinkle the fire till it was dead. Look, you can see for yourself that it’s been wet down.”
“Hurray for Bumpus!” exclaimed Giraffe.
“I can see him passing the examination for a first-class scout some of these fine days,” added Step Hen. “Who’d ever think it of him?”
They pushed on once more, after Allan had even shown them the very stick on one end of which Bumpus had thrust his slice of smoked ham, and cooked it, after a fashion. Step Hen put it up to his nose, and vouched for the accuracy of Allan’s assertion.
But all the boys were a little tired, and when it grew too dark under the trees to see the trail of the lost tenderfoot they eagerly welcomed Thad’s suggestion that they rest up for the night.
So Giraffe was instructed to build a cooking fire at a certain place. It happened to be in a little natural basin, and here the four boys ate their supper, over which they talked earnestly, but there was no hilarity.
Later on while the others were partly done with their meal, Allan left the circle and said he would take a little stroll. He went up the rise, as though desirous of seeing what lay beyond.
The moon was about three-quarters full, and hung in the eastern sky; but under the big trees it was almost dark.
Shortly afterward Allan came hurrying back, declaring that he had discovered what looked to be a lone camp-fire, at some distance away in the woods.
“Perhaps it’s Bumpus,” suggested Step Hen, eagerly, jumping up, although still hungry.
“Then he didn’t go far on the second day, or else he’s been traveling in a circle and got back near where he started out from,” said Giraffe.
“Let’s head over that way,” Step Hen went on to say.
“And surprise him, eh? That’s the ticket, boys,” Giraffe continued.
“That fire is a good long ways off,” warned Allan.
“Don’t care if it is.”
“It looked like a star at first, and must be on rising ground, where the trees are more open,” the discoverer continued.
“Lead us to it. We want to surprise Bumpus,” both the others declared.
“How about it, Thad?” Allan asked.
“It’s the only thing we can do,” replied the scoutmaster. “If it proves to be Bumpus, we hadn’t ought to take any chances of losing him again in the morning. If you’re all of the same mind, let’s be off.”
So the fire was carefully extinguished, and Allan led his comrades to the top of the little rise. Here he pointed out the object he said was a campfire, although Giraffe and Step Hen believed they would have taken it for a star low down near the horizon, had they noticed it at all.
After their bearings had been carefully taken, in order that they might head in a direct line for the fire, they started forth.
By degrees the seeming star grew into a light of the first magnitude, and finally even the two less experienced scouts were ready to affirm that it must be a camp-fire.
They kept on going.
“We’ll sure give old Bumpus the biggest surprise of his life,” chuckled Step Hen, as they drew nearer the place.
Of course they made some noise pushing along through the almost dark woods, but then Bumpus would not be apt to hear that. Perhaps the poor tired fellow was already fast asleep alongside the fire.
A few minutes later, and the boys were very close to the blaze. Giraffe thrust up his head above the bushes, which he was better fitted by Nature for doing than any of his comrades.
“Don’t see a sign of him about, fellers,” he whispered, ducking down again.
Thereupon the others also raised their heads to look. There was the fire, burning cheerfully, and showing that it must have had recent care. But not a single sign of a human being was to be seen.
It was very strange.
“Mebbe he heard us coming, and thought it was a bear,” suggested Step Hen.
“And in that case I guess Bumpus would take to a tree,” Giraffe added.
“Perhaps we ought to step out right away, and let him know,” came from Allan.
“I should say, yes,” Giraffe went on, “I know for one I’d hate to be peppered with the loads he carries in that Marlin scatter gun of his. Hello! there, Bumpus, hold your fire. It’s your chums come to look you up.”
The four scouts had arisen to their feet, and were just about to push out from behind the fringe of bushes, in order to show themselves to Bumpus, when they were electrified to hear a voice, gruff and surly, and certainly not that of their jolly companion, call loudly:
“Jest hold up yer hands, you fellers, for we’ve sure got ye kivered!”
“What’s all this mean?” said Thad, laughingly, although he did not fail to do as he had been ordered.
Two rather rough looking men came out of the scrub, carrying guns which seemed to be handled rather carelessly, seeing that they were evidently ready for immediate use.
“Why, consarn it all, Pierre, they’re on’y a pack o’ boys arter all, and not sojers,” the larger man exclaimed, staring hard at the four scouts, some of whom wore various parts of their regular khaki uniforms, as well as the regulation campaign hat of the Boy Scout organization.
“Sacre!zat ees so,” the other man exploded, and Thad knew instantly from his name and manner of speech that Pierre must be one of those French Canadian half-breeds of whom he had heard so much.
“That’s just what we are, my friends,” Thad hastened to remark; “we belong to a Boy Scout troop in the East, and came out here to have a hunt in the Rockies. One of our number, a very fat boy, wandered off, and got lost in the big timber. We were following up his trail, and trying to locate him, when we discovered a camp-fire over here. So you see, we walked another mile just to give our friend a little surprise. But we hope you’ll let us take down our hands now, because it’s hard to hold them up like this.”
The two men exchanged looks. Then they lowered the hammers of their guns. The action signified that, according to their way of thinking, they had nothing to fear from these half-grown lads.
“Cum an’ set down an’ tell us a lot more,” said the big man, with the red face, and the crafty eyes, Thad could not bring himself to like, because he seemed to see wells of treachery in their depths.
So the boys dropped down again, being more foot-weary than ever. But taking a cue from Allan and Thad, the other two scouts kept their guns close beside them. Apparently none of them exactly liked the looks of the two strangers; and they were not accustomed to much reading of character, either.
“War his name Bumpus?” asked the American.
“Just what it was,” flashed out Giraffe; “but how did you know that? Have you met up with our lost pard?”
“Sho! ain’t I got ears, an’ didn’t one o’ ye call out that same name when ye was agoin’ ter walk inter our camp?” demanded the other, gruffly.
Thad was on the alert.
He did not feel favorably impressed by the looks of the two men. Besides, he noticed a crafty, greedy expression cross their faces whenever they allowed their eyes to rest on Step Hen’s new repeating rifle. Evidently the neatness of the little weapon quite captured them, and made them envy the boy its possession.
And Thad was of the opinion that two such rough-looking customers would not hesitate long about trying to obtain anything they coveted.
The conversation soon became more general, the men wanting to know how it was these boys, almost wholly inexperienced in the ways of the woods as they took them to be, were venturesome enough to start into the foothills of the Rockies without a single guide along.
So Thad explained how they had engaged a pair of guides, both of whom had disappointed them, one by getting sick, and the other in taking up with a couple of big-horn sportsmen.
“But we heard of a man up here somewhere,” Thad went on, “who’d been logger, trapper, timber cruiser and everything; and people said that if we could only run across Toby Smathers, and he took the job, we’d have a guide worth any two men.”
“What’s thet? Toby Smathers, did ye say?” demanded the other, that crafty look coming into his face again.
“Yes, that was the name; do you happen to know him?” asked Giraffe, eagerly.
“Reckons now, as none o’ ye ever run acrost Toby; air thet right?” asked the man.
“We never have,” replied Thad.
The fellow laughed harshly.
“Thet shore is a fack,” he went on to say. “Jest think o’ it, Pierre Laporte, they’s askin’ o’ me ef I ever run acrost Toby Smathers? Ain’t thet a good joke, though? I’ve kerried a few names in my day, younkers, an’ Toby Smathers be one o’ ’em.”
“Oh! then you’re the very man we’ve been looking for, eh?” but while Thad uttered this sentiment, there did not seem to be any great amount of enthusiasm in his manner, Allan thought.
“He believes the fellow lies; and I just know it,” Allan was saying to himself.
“An’ if so be ye wanter make me a offer, spot cash, ter guide ye boys through the big timber, find yer missin’ chum, and show ye some big-horn huntin’ in the Rockies, I’m yer man; on’y make the price wuth my while, an’ cash down, spot cash.”
Thad said he had no doubt it could be easily arranged to the satisfaction of all parties concerned. His object was really to gain time. He had received a secret sign from Allan, which told him just as plainly as so many words would have done that his chum had something of importance to communicate, as soon as they could get their heads together.
Step Hen and Giraffe had apparently swallowed the story offered by the self-called Toby Smathers without a suspicion. They were now entertaining the two men with some accounts of previous experiences. The fellows seemed to be in high spirits. They would nudge each other, and laugh boisterously on the slightest pretense. And sometimes they would laugh when there was no humorous story being told; a look exchanged between them being sufficient grounds for hilarity.
“They’re sure enough feeling pretty fine,” thought Thad; “and it strikes me they think they’ve got a little joke of their own that they’re playing on us. Three to one it’s about that name, too. I just can’t believe that man answers to the description I’ve had of Toby Smathers. Why, they said he was just the picture of an honest wood’s ranger, employed by the Government to watch out for timber thieves, forest fires and the likes. And that man’s face would condemn him on sight before any judge.”
Just then he heard Allan say he was thirsty, and must get a drink. The stream ran near by, and Thad noticed how the cautious Maine boy carried his gun along with him as he went.
A minute or so later Thad also arose.
“I’m as dry as a bone,” he observed, “and I think I’d like a drink about the size of the one Allan’s getting. Wait here, fellows.”
He added these last words as a sop to quiet the suspicions of Pierre and the man who called himself Toby Smathers. They had frowned, and made an impatient movement upon noticing that Thad, too, took his gun along with him, rather a queer thing to do when only going for a drink.
But Thad’s last words apparently served to disarm their suspicions. They had two of the boys held as hostages, at any rate.
Thad found his chum much excited. A drink just then was about the last thing Allan Hollister was thinking about.
“What is it?” asked Thad, in a whisper.
“Let’s laugh a little, out loud, so they won’t be suspicious,” said the other; and after that clever dodge had been carried out, he went on to add: “you didn’t believe what he said about that name, did you, Thad?”
“I certainly don’t believe he’s the man we’re looking for up here,” came the answer.
“That’s right,” Allan went on, “and I know he’s a fraud. He wants to get hold of anything we have that’s worth taking. That gun of Step Hen’s seems to just take his eye.”
“Do you know who he is?” demanded Thad.
“I can give a pretty close guess, now that we heard the name of his companion, Pierre Laporte,” said Allan. “Some men down at the post where we got the mules told me to look out for a half-breed by that name, who kept company with an even worse scoundrel named Hank Dodge. And this is Hank, all right, make up your mind to that, Thad.”
“Rascal is written big all over his face, I can see,” the other went on. “But what is their line—just plain scamps, or timber cruisers?”
“There are different kinds of timber scouts or cruisers, they tell me,” Allan continued. “Some are honest men, working for honest lumber dealers. Others spy out rich tracts on Government land, which the big company of thieves they’re hired by, want to cut next winter. The Government loses millions on millions every year that way. And these crafty fellows are up here looking for timber that can be easily stolen and marketed next winter.”
“What had we better do?” asked Thad. “It wouldn’t be safe for us to spend the night in camp with them.”
“I should say not,” replied Allan earnestly. “If we go in the ordinary way the chances are they’ll jump on us. So I suppose we might as well up and tell them we know who they are, and that we don’t propose staying any longer in their company.”
“They’ll be as mad as hornets,” suggested Thad.
“Let ’em,” replied the other, “four guns are better than two, any day. Come on back to the fire right away.”
As they drew near, Allan whispered:
“He’s got it right now, Step Hen’s rifle, I mean. Reckon he asked to see it, and our chum handed it over. Chances are he won’t give it back again in a hurry. There, what did I tell you; he’s laid it down beside him, Thad?”
“Now’s our time to cut in, then,” said the patrol leader. “You watch out for Pierre, and don’t let him slip up on you, or there’ll be heaps of trouble. Cover him when I do the other. Ready? Then here goes.”
And ten seconds later those by the fire heard Thad call out in ringing tones.
“It’s your turn, Pierre and Hank Dodge, to hold up your hands. Quick now, or it’ll be the worse for you. The tables are turned—up with them!”
When the young scoutmaster chose to, he could put a world of meaning in his voice. And those two timber cruisers, upon seeing both guns covering them so steadily, doubtless realized that firearms are no respecter of persons; since a weapon fired by a lad is just as sure to make good, if held correctly, as though a mature man looked along the barrel.
And so they complied with the order, although grumblingly, and evidently loth to admit that a couple of boys had gotten the better of them.
“This hyars a nice how-d’ye-do, treatin’ yer guide like he was pizen mean. What d’ye mean by it, younker?” growled the man who had claimed to be Toby Smathers, the forest ranger.
“Oh! it only means that we’ve guessed who you are,” remarked Thad, calmly. “We were warned down at the post to look out for a couple of unscrupulous timber cruisers by the name of Hank Dodge and Pierre Laporte. And we don’t want to have anything to do with you, that’s all.”
“Take keer, young feller, who yer insultin’,” growled Hank, ominously.
“Oh!” said Giraffe, airily, who made sure to have his own gun ready in his hands at the time he spoke in such boasting tones, “we don’t scare so easy, Mister Hank Dodge, if that’s your name. Fact is, the boys of the Silver Fox Patrol have helped gather in a few men even more dangerous than you and your pal ever dared to be.”
“Be still, Giraffe,” ordered Thad, who knew it was unwise to add to the anger of the ruffians. “Now, we don’t mean to bother you at all, Hank Dodge. Our business up here has nothing to do with timber cruisers; and we’re not hired by the Government to watch for any steels of lumber, or land frauds. We came here to camp out, and to hunt. And just now we’re busy looking up the comrade who has lost himself in these big woods. Do you understand what I say?”
“Reckon as how ye put it plain enuff, younker,” replied the other, wondering if Thad noticed that he was gradually lowering his arms; but the very next words uttered by the boy told him this.
“Hold ’em up high again, Hank! I don’t want to have to shoot you through the shoulder or the legs, but I will, if you try to grab up that rifle.”
With a string of hard words the man elevated his hands once more; but if black looks could kill, Thad must have expired on the spot.
“Step Hen,” said the patrol leader.
“Yes, what is it, Thad?”
“Go forward, and recover your gun,” the other went on, severely. “I’m surprised at you letting it get out of your hands at all. A wide-awake scout should be smarter than that. And Step Hen!”
“Yes.”
“Be sure you don’t for even a second get between the muzzle of my gun and our friend Hank, there; because I’m going to shoot the very second he makes the first move looking to grabbing either you, or the gun. Hear that, Step Hen?”
“Sure I do, Thad, and I’ll be careful, just as you say,” came the reply.
The boy crept up on one side, and lying down flat on his chest, reached out an arm, thus starting to draw his own highly-prized little repeater toward him.
Hank could see it going, and ground his teeth in helpless rage, for he could also watch the determined gleam in those convincing eyes of Thad Brewster, and only too well did he know what sort of hard luck would be apt to overtake him, if he but allowed himself to be tempted too far.
When Step Hen gripped his little gun once more, he made haste to draw back the hammer. And thus a fourth weapon was brought to bear upon the persons of the two notorious timber thieves.
Hank Dodge laughed.
It was not a mirthful sound at all, but rather caused a shiver to pass through the forms of those who heard it.
“We throws up ther sponge, me an’ Pierre, don’t we, ole hoss?” said Hank.
“Four against two—zat ees too mooch odds. We cave; we gif in; we cry out, enough!” exclaimed the ferret-eyed French Canadianvoyageur, who, they said, had once been the factor at a Hudson Bay Fur Company’s post until he betrayed his trust, and fled to the States with a bunch of money belonging to his employers.
“Well, we want to say good-night then, to both of you,” said Thad.
“We ain’t agoin’ ter forget this, let me tell yer,” replied Hank.
“I don’t see why there need be any hard feelings between us,” Thad went on. “It’s only tit for tat. You held us up first, and now we’ve returned the favor. And we haven’t taken anything from you, Hank Dodge.”
“But—held up by a pack o’ kids; we’ll never be able ter look each other in the face agin till it’s wiped out, sum way,” the man went on to say, angrily.
Thad knew that further argument would be useless. There was only one thing men of their calibre could appreciate, and that was force.
“Oh! well,” he said, as if carelessly, “you can do just as you please about it. But I want to tell you this plainly, right on the start. We’re all armed, and can shoot as well as the next one. We’re no tenderfeet, like our chum who is lost. And if in spite of this plain warning you choose to molest us, look out you don’t get something you won’t like. That’s all I’m going to say; but you can put it in your pipe and smoke it. Back off, fellows, but keep ’em both covered, and shoot if they try to grab up a gun!”
So the four scouts backed out of the hostile camp, the air of which did not seem to agree with them. Those avaricious eyes belonging to Hank Dodge did not create a favorable impression on any of the young campers.
“I sure believe he meant to keep my dandy little gun,” Step Hen was muttering, as, having passed out of sight of the two timber cruisers, the scouts walked along in couples, on the alert for any signs of further trouble.
“Just what he expected to do,” replied Thad. “And another time we happen on any unknown men in this part of the country, see to it that you keep your gun in your own possession, Step Hen.”
“I sure will,” replied the other, humbly enough; “I had my lesson, all right.”
“What if they’re coming after us?” suggested Giraffe; and the very possibility of such a thing caused Step Hen to utter a little cry of alarm, and turn in several directions, as though expecting to discover crouching foes, or see the flash that would accompany the discharge of a hostile gun.
But nothing happened; and presently Allan, who had been looking back over his shoulder many times, announced that there was no danger.
“They haven’t left the camp up to now,” he said, positively. “I can see their figures moving in front of the fire. It’s all right, boys. We can go, and settle down after a little for the night.”
Presently Thad called a halt.
“Here, we can make a stop,” he announced. “There’s a little swale at the base of this rocky hill. If we wanted we could make a small fire, and finish our supper. I don’t think they’d see it; and besides, Allan and myself will stand guard up on the ridge here.”
This plan was carried out, since they had not wholly satisfied their appetites at the time Allan discovered the camp-fire which they supposed had been kindled by the lost tenderfoot, Bumpus.
Afterwards Thad and Allan came in, the fire having been extinguished, and ate a little. Then they talked in low tones.
“It makes me feel uneasy,” remarked Giraffe, “to think of that poor innocent thing of a Bumpus, who wouldn’t lift a finger to hurt even a fly, wanderin’ around all alone in these big woods.”
“Yes,” added Step Hen, seriously enough, “and with a couple of hard cases like that Hank Dodge and Pierre Laporte around. What if he was unlucky enough to run across ’em? wouldn’t they just take revenge on our poor fat chum. I hope that don’t happen.”
Thad was not saying anything, but it struck him that the fellow who could show enough ingenuity to get himself out of a quicksand, or a muck bed, the way Bumpus had done, might be far from the ignoramus some of his comrades still chose to believe him.
“I’m getting sleepy, and I move we turn in,” suggested Giraffe after more time had elapsed.
“Well, hold on then, because we’ve got to make a move out of this basin,” said the shrewd patrol leader.
“Seems a good enough place to bunk in,” grumbled the sleepy Giraffe.
“But dangerous at that,” Thad remarked. “Those men may have glimpsed our fire, and give us a call. We’ll not be at home to them. I’ve been told that a hunted man never sleeps where he eats. Come along; it won’t be far, I promise you.”
After a short walk, Thad announced that in his opinion, as well as that of Allan, it was now safe for them to lie down, and get what sleep they could.
“I hope Bumpus is as well off, and got plenty to eat still,” were the last words Giraffe spoke; “I remember the time we got twisted in our bearings up in Maine, and nary a match between us, with a cold night at hand. But I got fire all right with my little apparatus. Besides, there was two of us, and it don’t seem near so lonely when you’ve got company along, even if it is only a tenderfoot scout.”
Soon all of them had made themselves as comfortable as possible. The absence of blankets was going to be severely felt. Without a camp-fire to cheer them, Thad feared they would be shivering before morning, even if it was the good old summer time. The atmosphere close to the foothills of the great Rockies is quite rarefied, and the nights are apt to seem even cold.
The four scouts were pretty tired, and they not only went to sleep quickly, but they slumbered heavily—it might have been hours for all any one of them could say, when they were suddenly awakened by a series of heavy crashes and detonations that sounded very much as though an earthquake had shaken the Rockies to their foundation.
“A land-slide!” exclaimed Giraffe, as he sat up, and began twisting his long neck around, as though doubtful whether he should dodge to the right or to the left, since it was difficult to locate the direction from whence the furious racket seemed to come.
“Better say an earthquake!” Step Hen managed to articulate, though he was shaking all over, with the excitement, that he would hardly have recognized his own voice. “I c’n feel the old ground shake! Listen, would you, to that smash! Must be volcanoes around here.”
“Keep still, and listen,” said Thad, in that tone of authority which both the talkers recognized as belonging to the scoutmaster, rather than their Chum Thad.
So they held their tongues, and strained their ears to listen.
There was no trouble in hearing, for the racket still kept up. There were heavy thuds, crashes, and a breaking of bushes. No wonder the scouts were mystified. No wonder one thought it a land-slide, while another believed some supposed extinct volcano had burst into action again, and that the rain of stones that followed, produced these weird sounds.
All at once the racket stopped, just as suddenly as though a command had been given to “cease firing.”
“Well, I declare, if that ain’t funny, now,” remarked Step Hen, but because of the order for silence which Thad had issued, he dared not breathe a word above a whisper.
“Hark!” said Allan.
Surely that sounded like a hoarse laugh. The boys crouched there, and strained their ears to hear more. Once or twice they thought they caught vague sounds. It was as if some one might be moving along the rocky elevation that formed one side of the near-by little basin in which they had made their small fire, and finished their once interrupted supper. But the sounds were moving further away, as though the unknown parties might be retreating.
Then silence, deep and profound, brooded over the immediate vicinity of the spot where the four startled scouts sat.
“May we talk now, Thad?” asked Giraffe.
“Yes, but let it be in a low voice,” replied the patrol leader.
“Jerusalem!” exclaimed Step Hen, just as though he had to let the pent-up steam escape, one way or another, and it took the form of this expression.
“What does it all mean?” asked Step Hen, plainly confused, and unable to clearly grasp the truth.
“I think I know,” remarked Thad.
“Then tell us, please,” quickly asked Giraffe. “Sounded like a laugh to me.”
“Just what it was, too,” Thad went on.
“But who’d want to act funny when all that racket was going on, Thad?” continued Giraffe, who seemed unusually thick headed just then, possibly on account of being aroused in such a startling manner.
“The men who made all the row,” replied the scoutmaster.
“Men who made the row—great governor! d’ye mean these rowdies, Hank and Pierre?” burst out Giraffe.
“No other,” said Thad, positively. “They must have located our little fire in some way, and supposed that we were sleeping close by. So they crept up along the side of that bare ridge, where the stones are so thick, and just started to heave a few dozen down. That’s why it sounded like thunder and hail combined.”
“The cowards!” hissed Giraffe, whose honest blood seemed to almost boil with indignation; “the sneaks! Afraid to face four boys because they believed we could shoot some, they had to crawl around to the back door, and play a trick that you’d think would be about the size of the meanest boy in our home town of Cranford, Brose Griffin.”
“They laughed over it, too,” burst out Step Hen, almost as angry as his long-legged chum, “and that shows what kind of fellows they are.”
“Altogether, it was a lucky escape for us,” remarked Allan.
“That’s what,” added Giraffe. “And we owe a heap to Thad’s long head. Never sleep where you eat—that was a pretty good rule for the old hunter to have, when painted Injuns were all around him. And by George! it seems to be all right, even in these modern days.”
“Wow! just think what a time we’d a had,” observed Step Hen, “if we’d been sleepin’ there just as sweetly as—as the babes in the woods, and all of a sudden them rocks began to smash around us. I can just see the whole blessed outfit scrambling in the dark, trying to get behind trees, and yet not knowing which side of the trunk was the safe side.”
Step Hen actually chuckled a little, as though a gleam of humor had begun to light up the serious nature of the situation.
“It was a game just in keeping with such a precious pair of rascals,” declared Thad. “They might have injured some of us badly; and that was just what they hoped to do.”
“Perhaps killed us in the bargain,” Allan added. “Some of the rocks they heaved into that little basin were just fierce. They came down like cannon balls. It was like what Rip Van Winkle heard, when the little old men of the Catskills were playing ten pins with big rocks.”
“But Thad,” remarked Giraffe, “when they get to thinking it over, don’t you reckon now they’ll guess they didn’t do any damage?”
“Just what was in my mind,” replied the leader of the patrol. “They must know that even men would have yelled, and shown all sorts of excitement, when bombarded in that way. But let ’em think what they please. I hope we’ll never cross their trail again.”
“Second the wish,” said Allan.
“That’s where I differ with you,” declared the aroused Giraffe, “I’d just like to pay the cowards back for that dirty trick; and I will, too, if the chance ever comes along.”
“I’m only bothering about one thing,” observed Step Hen.
“And what’s that?” Thad inquired.
“What if they run across our innocent chum, poor old Bumpus?” Step Hen went on to say, “Why, he’s so confiding, and so straight himself, that he couldn’t believe wrong of anybody. Why, they’d rob him of his gun, and everything else he had; and then turn him loose like that, in the big timber. Oh! I hope they just don’t find Bumpus before we get to him. It would be a shame!”
“Like taking candy from the baby,” added Giraffe.
“Well, let’s go to sleep again! We can talk it over in the morning,” suggested Thad.
“Don’t believe I c’n sleep another wink,” declared Step Hen.
But in spite of his gloomy prophecy, he did drop off again soon after stretching himself out on the ground, in the softest spot he could find; and knew nothing more until some one shook him. Looking up, Step Hen discovered that the dawn was stealing through the timber, and that Thad bent over him.
The other two were already astir. Giraffe was busying himself, as usual, in getting a little fire underway; for Thad had given it as his opinion that after playing such a dastardly mean trick, Hank and Pierre, the lawless timber cruisers would not feel like venturing over in this quarter again, lest they be greeted with a warm fire from the guns of the boys.
All of the scouts felt more or less chilled, as the early morning air was pretty cool, and consequently the fire proved acceptable.
As they munched their breakfast Thad announced that he had found the trail of Bumpus again. This meant that when they were ready to start out, there would be little delay.
Of course, pretty much all the talk was about the event of the preceding night, and the fortunes of their lost comrade.
“When I shut my eyes,” said Giraffe, “I c’n just see that blessed innocent awalkin’ through these here woods, awhistlin’ for his bear to come out and be shot.”
“And I’m wonderin’,” remarked Step Hen, “whether Bumpus, if he does run across a cinnamon bear, just through the luck greenhorns seem to have, would climb his treefirst, and then begin shooting; or just bang away, like he did before, and make for a tree afterwards.”
“Oh! well, I guess Bumpus learned his little lesson that time, all right,” declared Giraffe, with the superior air of one who had already gottenhisbear, and could afford to look down on those not so fortunate.
“He was scared, good and hard,” Step Hen went on. “Why, his face looked like pie paste, and his goggle eyes fairly stood out of his head when he couldn’t get up in that tree, with the old grizzly a comin’ for him, growlin’, and champin’ his teeth.”
Thad only smiled as he heard these remarks that had an undercurrent vein of condescending pity for the tenderfoot chum. If he remembered correctly, Bumpus was not the only frightened scout about the time that wounded grizzly charged the camp. He had plenty of company.
When they had finished eating, the fire was put out; and after that they made for the spot where Thad had found the trail of the lost scout.
It was as plain as day just there, even though some twenty-four hours must have elapsed since the fat and ambitious Nimrod passed that way.
Giraffe and Step Hen were suspicious of the two rascally timber cruisers, and persisted in keeping their eyes constantly on the alert, searching every possible spot for an ambuscade, and holding their guns ready for quick work.
The patrol leader did not attempt to interfere, although he and Allan were of the opinion that the men would not bother trying to look them up. It gave the boys more or less practice, and did no harm.
And so the little bunch of scouts started to once more lift the trail of their missing chum.
The morning was half gone, and they had been making pretty fair progress.
“But,” said Giraffe, when Allan mentioned this fact, “if we’re only holding our own, that means we’ll never glimpse the poor old chap in a week, ’less he just drops down from being so worn out, reduced to skin and bones, so to speak,” and both he and Step Hen chuckled at the possibility of Bumpus ever coming to such an end.
“Oh! I don’t know,” said Allan. “There’s always a chance that you might sight him somewhere. You see, he turns every which way. Now he’s heading almost north; and a little while back it was nearly due east. Perhaps he may double on his tracks yet; we can’t tell.”
“And if he did, and happened to discover all our footprints, what d’ye think the blessed innocent would do?” asked Giraffe.
“Be scared stiff, most likely, and think Injuns must be trailing him, bound to take his scalp,” laughed Step Hen.
Thad stopped for a minute’s breathing spell.
“I think both of you are wrong there,” he remarked, “and if Bumpus did only happen to come on his own trail, after we’d passed along, the chances are he’d just make up his mind to sit down, and wait for us to come around again.”
“You don’t say?” exclaimed Step Hen.
“How in the wide world would Bumpus ever guess it wasusmade the tracks?” Giraffe demanded, incredulously.
“He wouldn’t have to guess, because he’d know!” Thad ventured.
“You must believe that fat chum of ours is waking up, Thad? Just tell us, will you now, how he’d be so dead sure of this? We haven’t been dropping our visiting cards along the way, that I saw,” and Step Hen gave Giraffe a sly wink.