Stacy tried to play a tune on the horn, the result being a series of squawks and discords.
"For goodness' sake stop it!" begged Tad.
"Don't you like my music?"
"I like music, but not your music. It's awful."
"Huh! You haven't any ear for music," complained Chunky.
Tad concluded that their horn had been heard, and that the searching party was waiting for them rather than start out over the trail which Lilly had seen but had not as yet read. He thought of course that the boys had strayed away on the trail of a bear.
Some time later, guided by the guide's horn fully as much as by the trail marks, Tad and Stacy neared their two companions. A twinkling light, now appearing and then as suddenly disappearing, seen far down the trail between the trees, told the guide that the missing boys were almost home.
"Hurrah! There they are," shouted Rector.
Lilly uttered a long-drawn call, which Stacy answered with a shrill whoop.
"I guess we have a surprise for them," chuckled the fat boy. "Won't their noses be out of joint? I reckon they will."
"Boys, are you all right?" shouted the guide when they came within hailing distance.
"Both right-side-up," answered Tad cheerily, while Stacy was marking time with hoarse toots on the hunting horn.
As they drew near, Ned and Lilly rode forward at a gallop to meet them. About this time they discovered that Tad was carrying something on his pony's back.
"What's that you have there?" called Lilly.
"Guess," shouted Chunky.
"A bear," ventured Ned.
"No. There aren't any bears in these woods—only snakes and owls," replied the fat boy.
"We have a deer," Tad proudly informed the guide and Ned.
"Well, you are some hunters," remarked Lilly approvingly. "Did you get lost?"
Tad shook his head.
"Oh, no; we held closely to the trail. There is no fun in getting lost, you know. Mr Lilly, did you find my double blaze?"
"I reckon I did. I knew, from that, that you had gone away after something, and I saw you knew what you were about. How far did you go?"
"'Bout a hundred miles," replied Stacy.
"Not quite so far as that, I guess," laughed Tad. "We went a long distance, though, and it was the toughest traveling that I ever experienced."
"Shall I take the doe?" asked Billy.
"No, thank you, Mr. Lilly. My horse is tired, but I think he can stand it until we get home. Where are the Professor and Walter?"
"At the camp. No need to fetch the whole outfit along. I thought you boys were lost, and that we might have a long hike of it through the night. I am mighty glad to see you safe and sound. Where did you get the doe?"
"Just a few rods from here."
"Eh?"
"Yonder." Tad pointed.
Lilly regarded him with a puzzled expression.
"Then what in the world were you dragging him off into the swamp for?"
"I will tell you about that when we get home," replied Tad. "It is a long story."
"And an exciting one, too," added Chunky, mysteriously.
"I'll bet you have been getting into fresh difficulties," jeered Rector.
"On the contrary, Ned, he has been helping me out of difficulties. Stacy showed himself to be the real man today. You will agree with me when you hear the story."
"Let's hear it, then," urged Ned.
"I couldn't think of telling it to you now. Stacy is famished; we are both tired and anxious to get home."
"Yes, and we are going to have some venison steak when we get back to camp. Oh, wow?" howled the fat boy.
The Professor and Walter heard them coming when later the party neared the camp. Both were out watching with anxious eyes. Tad shouted that they were all right, to the great relief of Professor Zepplin, and the Professor and Walter opened their eyes when they saw what Tad had shot.
"Help me get this animal strung up," requested Tad. "I have bled the doe, but that was all I could find time to do. The carcass should be strung up and dressed at once."
"Ichabod will attend to that," answered Lilly. "Here, Ichabod. Get these young gentlemen something hot to drink and eat, then look after this carcass."
"Yes, sah." Ichabod was grinning broadly. He had not believed that the boys were such mighty hunters. They had not shot a bear, it is true, but they had brought in what was better—a fine, tender doe, and the colored man was actually licking his chops in anticipation of the treat before him. Next to a 'possum stew Ichabod went silly over venison steaks.
None of the party had eaten supper, so that all the appetites were on keen edge. In a few moments there was a steaming pot of coffee ready for them, with some hastily fried bacon. This, with a heaping plate of waffles which the colored man had baked earlier in the evening, made a most palatable meal. Stacy's voice was stilled. He began before the others and ate so voraciously that his companions were forced to eat more rapidly by way of self-protection.
"Let him eat. He has earned it," begged Tad in answer to the Professor's protest.
"Suppose you tell us what happened," suggested Lilly.
"Shortly after we arrived at our station," began Tad, leaning back, a slice of bacon in one hand, a waffle in the other, both poised half way to his mouth, "I heard something in the brake, and peering, I caught sight of this doe. She saw me at the same instant, and leaped. I shot her while she was still in the air," murmured Tad modestly.
"Was she in the cane?" interrupted the guide.
"Yes, sir."
"Good shot!"
"It was a quick one, and lucky. I caught her just back of the left shoulder. She went down in her tracks."
"Better than shooting bears," declared Rector.
"Having left Stacy with the horses some distance back I strung up the carcass, then hurried back to get my horse. When we reached the place where I had left the deer, there was no deer there. It had disappeared."
Lilly had forgotten to eat. He was leaning forward with eager face.
"Not there?"
"I examined the ground and found the tracks of a man," continued Butler. "Then I found horse tracks. I found also a trail on the ground where the carcass had been dragged over it to a tree and blood at the foot of a tree where the doe had been thrown down. From that point the dragging was not found. Instead, were the hoofprints of a horse. These hoofprints sunk into the soft ground deeper now, showing that the animal was carrying a heavier load."
"Indeed?" wondered Professor Zepplin.
"Well, to make a long story short, we determined to get that doe. The trail was an easy one to follow, for the fellow who had stolen the carcass had to cut his way through over most of the trail. A blind man could have followed him."
Tad then went on to explain how they had eventually come up with the stranger, engaged him in conversation, repeating what the man had said about having seen a hunter with a buck, then proceeding to relate how the carcass had been discovered behind a fallen cypress.
"Then what?" asked Lilly in a low, tense voice, tugging violently at his long moustache.
"I went over to fetch the deer."
"A—a—a—and the fellow shot him. He shot Tad's hat right off," cried Stacy, forgetting to eat for the moment. Tad embraced the opportunity to take a bite of the crisp bacon.
"No, he didn't shoot again. Stacy leveled his rifle at the man and made him drop his revolver. Then Stacy made the fellow give up his rifle. There isn't much more to tell except that we got our doe, after which I returned the fellow's weapons to him and sent him on his way at a lively clip. That's all. You know the rest. We followed our trail home and here we are. How many bear did you get?"
"Not a smell," answered Rector. "But tell us some more."
"Did you find out what the fellow's name is?" questioned Lilly.
"We didn't ask him. But I tripped him into an admission that he knew you. Still, I don't know as that is of much consequence. Everyone down this way appears to know you."
"Pretty much all of them do," answered the guide. "What did the fellow look like?"
"He looked like some sort of a man to me," spoke up Chunky. "I reckon he was some sort of a man, but not much of a one at that. I'm sorry he didn't give me an excuse to plug him."
"Stacy!" warned the Professor reprovingly.
"Yes, Stacy is developing into a blood-thirsty young man," smiled Tad. "Still, he proved himself the genuine thing today. He was as cool as could be. I wish you might have seen the way in which he handled the fellow."
"What did he look like?" repeated Lilly.
"I beg your pardon. He was about your height, I should say, but somewhat thinner. He wore a long beard and his face was weazened. He had blue eyes and light hair. His horse was white, something like the one I am using now. Does that give you any idea, Mr. Lilly?"
The guide's face had contracted into a scowl.
"I reckon I've seen that hound before," growled Billy.
"Who do you think he is?"
"I wouldn't want to say, not knowing for sure. But if it's the fellow I think, you will most likely hear from him again."
"But what was his motive?" insisted Tad.
"Eh? Motive? Why, I reckon he wanted some steak for his supper," grinned Billy.
"That's what I told him," piped the fat boy.
Tad shook his head.
"That wasn't his only reason. He had another," declared the boy with emphasis.
"What makes you think so?" questioned Lilly, peering keenly at the brown-faced Pony Rider Boy.
"He saw that deer before I did. He must have. Why didn't he shoot if he wanted it?"
"You're a sharp one," chuckled Lilly. "I reckon Pete will have to get up before daylight if he thinks to get ahead of my boys."
"Pete?" repeated Butler.
"I was just thinkin' out loud," explained Billy.
"Do I understand you to say that he tried to shoot you, Tad?" questioned Professor Zepplin.
"I wouldn't say that exactly. I don't think that at first he intended to hit me. Later on he was so mad that he would have done so had not Chunky held him in check."
"Stacy, I am pleased beyond words to know that you have in a measure redeemed yourself," declared the Professor with glowing face.
"Oh, I am always in my element when there is danger about. Yes, sir, I am a hummer when it comes to danger."
"Especially when a 'gator is chasing you," reminded Ned Rector.
"That isn't danger, that's just plain murder," answered the fat boy, rolling his eyes and showing the whites.
"Well, don't have a fit about it," chuckled Ned. "I will admit that you were a hero in this instance, but you will have to play the hero a lot more times before we even up for the cold feet you have shown in the past."
"You're jealous—that's what is the matter with you," retorted the fat boy.
"You are under the impression that you know the man, Mr. Lilly?" asked the Professor.
"I may," was the evasive answer.
"What do you propose to do about it?"
"Nothing just now. I reckon I'll think the matter over. I shall come up with the moccasin one of these days, then we'll have a reckoning thatwillbe a reckoning."
"I sincerely hope there will be no bloodshed," said the Professor anxiously.
"There came pretty near being bloodshed today," replied Stacy. "Br-r-r-r!"
After supper Lilly went away by himself and sat down on the bank of the river, where he tugged at first one end of his moustache, then the other, while he pondered over the story told by Tad Butler and Stacy Brown.
"The copperhead!" grunted Lilly. "I reckon I don't want to see him. I'm afraid I couldn't hold myself. But we shall see, we shall see."
In saying this Lilly was a prophet, for before long they did see.
Stacy Brown was so overcome with his own importance that evening that he could not unbend sufficiently to talk with his companions, save for an occasional word with Tad.
"Stacy has a swelled head," observed Ned Rector.
"He has a right to have. Can't you let him have the full enjoyment of his bravery?" laughed Tad.
"Did he really do anything worth while?" asked Ned.
"I have told you he did."
"He had a gun, didn't he?"
"Yes."
"Well, then, I don't see anything so great about what he did."
"Then I'll tell you. Had Stacy relaxed his vigilance, or been the least bit slow or uncertain, that fellow would have shot him, and Chunky knew that. If you don't think that took some nerve you don't know what nerve is."
"Oh, yes he does," spoke up Walter. "Ned has a lot of it."
"Nerve?" grinned Tad.
"Yes."
Rector gazed at Tad.
"Shall I feel all puffed up or get mad at that remark?" questioned Ned.
"That depends upon the way you take it, Ned."
Stacy sauntered past them at this juncture casting an indifferent glance in Ned's direction, then continued on his journey up and down the camp.
Ned said the fat boy reminded him of a pouter pigeon with its tail feathers pulled out.
"Do you know what the plans are for tomorrow?" inquired Tad.
"I think Mr. Lilly intends to go out on the trail again."
"What kind of trail?" asked Stacy, stopping before them.
"Oh, you have condescended to speak to me, have you?" demanded Ned.
"I am not addressing you as Ned Rector. I am addressing you as a part of the Pony Rider outfit," replied Stacy coldly.
A grin spread slowly across the countenance of Ned Rector. Then he laughed.
"Chunky," he said, "if I thought you were half as big a fool as you appear to be, I would throw you out of camp."
"What do you think about it, Tad? Would he?" questioned Stacy.
"That depends. Do you meancouldhe?"
"Yes."
"Then I will answer 'no.' I don't think any one boy in the camp could put you out if you had made up your mind to stay," replied Tad.
"There! You have an expert opinion, Mr. Rector. Kindly do not refer to the subject again," begged Stacy airily. "I can't afford to discuss such trivial matters. What kind of trail are we going out on, do you know?"
"Same old paw-prints—bears," complained Ned.
"Find any signs today?"
"Oh, yes, the dogs ran the scent out. The bears took to the water, and we didn't pick up the scent again, for the day was nearly done by that time. Mr. Lilly decided to come home, especially as he hadn't heard anything of you and Stacy, nor of me. He nearly had a fit when he found that you had not been seen or heard from."
"Didn't he think we could take care of ourselves?" demanded Tad.
"I told him you could, especially Chunky," with a mischievous glance at the fat boy. "But for some reason he was considerably upset over your absence. When we got to the four-blaze tree, I think he began to understand that you had your head with you."
"He didn't find the deer signs?" asked Tad.
"No. He would have done so, I guess, if we hadn't heard you when we did."
The guide joined the boys at this juncture. He was smiling good-naturedly, regarding Tad and Stacy, in both of whom he felt a new interest. They had shown the veteran guide something that day that he never had seen in lads of their age.
"Where do we go tomorrow?" questioned Butler.
"I am going to try to pick up the bear trail again. They gave us the slip beautifully today."
"Would it not be better to make a new camp farther in?" asked Tad.
"I had thought of that, but I think we are well enough located right where we are. The bears are likely to round back, for this is their stamping ground. I have seen several tree-hollows where they have made their winter quarters."
"Do the bears live in trees?" cried Walter. "I thought they always lived in caves and dens."
"In some parts of the country they do. There aren't any caves down here, so they seek out hollows in the trees far above the ground for their winter quarters, or else go into a hollow log. In the spring they come down and begin to feed on the ash buds and the tender young cane, called 'mutton cane.' At this season they are quite likely to take to killing stock on the plantations. Just now they are at their best, in weight, in cunning and killing abilities. One of these bears would as lief tackle a man as a yearling calf."
"I hope one tackles me. I need something to limber up my muscles. I haven't had anything exciting on this trip," declared Stacy Brown.
"Oh, you will get limbered up all right if you meet one of those fellows," answered Lilly, fixing his twinkling eyes on the fat boy. "They will fix your joints so they will bend one way as easily as another."
The plans for the morrow's hunting were explained by Lilly. The arrangements were to be about the same, the party being split up and stationed at different points in the canebrake. Tad, being considered the best woodsman, was to be sent on ahead with Stacy at or about the point where the dogs had lost the trail that day. The rest of the party were to draw in, eventually converging on that point.
Lilly had an idea that the bears would have returned to their own ground in the night. In that event they would be driven from the cane by the dogs again, in which case one or the other of the party might get a shot.
Tad and Stacy were pleased with the arrangement. It sent them off where they would be wholly on their own responsibilities.
"But don't go off on any long hikes as you did today," warned the guide.
"We shan't unless we have to," answered Tad. "If we get a bear and someone steals it, why, we shall have to go after it."
"Let me know before you do. I reckon I should like to have a part in that chase," said the guide almost savagely.
An early start was made on the following morning, Stacy solemn as an owl, the other boys full of laughter and joking, turning most of their pleasantry on the fat boy.
"I'll fetch back something for you tonight," threatened Stacy.
"A bear?" quizzed Ned.
"If one gets in my way, yes. If I can't do any better I'll fetch home one of those sweet-voiced owls that you are so fond of."
"Ugh! Don't you bring one of those horrible things here," protested Walter.
Tad and the fat boy rode away ahead of the others. Lilly's face wore a grin. He evidently looked for the pair to distinguish themselves, and perhaps he felt reasonably certain that they would fall to the trail of the bear. At least, he had his own reasons for grinning.
It was along towards noon, when the two boys had covered about half the distance to their destination, that Tad caught the sound of the dogs. The hounds were in full cry, though the cry was faint, showing that the animals were some distance away. The Pony Rider Boys listened attentively, trying to get the direction.
"It seems to me that they are heading towards us," said Tad.
Stacy agreed with a nod.
"Suppose we get over there in the cane where we shall not be so likely to be seen. Which way is the breeze?"
"Blowing that way," answered Chunky, pointing in a direction away from the cane.
"Then we don't want to go there. The breeze will carry our scent to the bears if any are between us and the dogs. I think we had better haul off to the eastward for half a mile or so. That should put us out of the direct line and yet place us within shooting distance."
They rode cautiously away, the horses now pricking up their ears, for the animals heard the yelps of the hounds and perhaps understood its meaning. That they were not baying told Tad that the dogs had not yet sighted their quarry. As soon as they got in sight of the bear they would bay deeply and hoarsely.
The barking grew louder as the dogs drew nearer, then all at once a new sound was borne to the ears of the Pony Rider Boys. It was a shrill yelping.
Tad looked at Stacy, and Stacy looked at Tad. The latter shook his head, indicating that he did not understand this new sound.
"If it weren't for the fact that we knew they were on the trail, I should think they were fighting," declared Butler.
"Why don't you go and find out?"
Tad reflected over this.
"I'll do it," he decided. "You follow on down parallel with the trail, Chunky. You can't miss your way if you will keep just at the edge of this row of cane, which will lead you to the place where we were to meet the others."
"No, thank you. Not for mine. I go with you if you go. You aren't going to leave me here all alone in the swamp, not if I know it."
"What, are you afraid of the bears?" scoffed Tad.
"No, I am not afraid of any bears that ever walked, but I'm afraid of those hideous owls," declared Stacy, glancing apprehensively up into the tall cypress towering above them.
"Well, you are a silly! All right; come along then. We shall probably scare the game away, but something is wrong over yonder."
Tad took the lead, driving as fast as he could, cutting a new trail with the confidence of an old hunter in the canebrake.
They burst out into an open space, open so far as cane was concerned, and gazed in amazement at flying, snarling, yelping heaps of fur.
"Look at the dogs! Look at the dogs!" cried Chunky. "They're fighting each other."
Tad's face flushed and his eyes flashed.
"Chunky, don't you—don't you see what it is?" cried Tad excitedly.
"'Course I do. It's those confounded dogs fighting when they ought to be chasing bear."
"No! The hounds are fighting a band of wolves!" shouted Butler.
"Wolves?" gasped Stacy.
"Yes. The wolves have attacked our dogs. They have killed some of them. Are you game to tackle them?"
"I'm game for anything that spells trouble. Whoop! I'm the original wolf-killer from the plains of Arizona, if that's where they come from. Get to them! I'm with you."
Tad grinned harshly. Putting spurs to his mount he dashed straight toward the battling dogs and wolves. He had heard that wolves sometimes attacked the hunting dogs right ahead of the hunters themselves, but he had always considered this to be a hunter's story. Now he saw the verification before his own eyes.
"Use your revolver and be careful that you don't shoot me," yelled Tad.
Bang!
Stacy had let go almost before the words were out of Tad's mouth—and missed his mark. Butler rode straight at a snarling, yelping bunch. His bush-knife was in his right hand. Leaning over he made a pass at the nearest wolf but missed it because the horse jumped at that second, nearly unseating the boy.
Tad bounded on to the next fighting heap. This time a vicious swing of the bush-knife brought results. He wounded a wolf, sending the beast slinking away yelping.
In the meantime Stacy Brown's revolver was popping away, now and then fanning the body of a wolf with a bullet, but oftener missing the beast entirely. Still, Stacy was having the time of his life. He was yelling and whooping louder than the desperate combatants. Tad was amazed at the pluck of the attacking force. He never had supposed that wolves possessed the courage to attack dogs, especially in the presence of human beings. These wolves had not only the courage to attack the dogs, but they were snarling and snapping at the legs of the horses, now and then making a leap at Tad when he had interfered with their sport.
It was an exciting battle, the most exciting that the two boys had ever seen. It seemed to them that there must have been a full hundred of the cowardly beasts in the pack, though in all probability there were not more than half this number, which was an unusually large pack at that.
"Shoot carefully. Don't waste your ammunition," warned Tad.
"Whoope-e-e-e!" howled the fat boy, letting go a shot that this time sent a beast limping away, the shot having broken its leg. "Can I shoot? Well, I guess I can shoot. Y-e-o-w!"
Tad's horse was getting so frantic at the frequent attacks on its legs that he could do nothing with it. Moments were precious because the dogs were getting the worst of the battle.
Suddenly Butler leaped from his horse thinking to be able to do greater execution on the ground. The wolves, perhaps believing that this was a signal of surrender, turned snarling upon him. At this juncture the horse jerked the check rein from his hand and jumped away, leaving the Pony Rider Boy standing there facing a large part of the pack.
Tad Butler Faced the Pack.Tad Butler Faced the Pack.
Tad Butler Faced the Pack.Tad Butler Faced the Pack.
With the bush-knife in his left hand now, revolver in the right, the boy slashed and shot alternately. Nearly every shot and nearly every pass of the knife reached the body of a wolf, not always killing, but in almost every instance doing the animal no little damage.
It was likely to be a sad day for the brave dogs, which, the more they were overwhelmed, the more desperately they fought. Some of the dogs were already dead, or crawling away in their death agonies. All of the dogs would be killed unless the wolves were swiftly driven off.
"Chunky," yelled Tad, "can't you use your rifle without hitting the dogs?"
"I can try," panted the fat boy.
"Rustle it, then! Don't mind me. I'll try to keep out of the way of your bullets."
Stacy raised his rifle, taking quick aim at a big gray wolf.Bang!went the overcharged cartridge, with a noise so like that of a cannon that Stacy's horse leaped to one side, while the fat boy went in the other direction, landing on his head in the ooze.
Yelping in their mad joy, a dozen wolves charged upon the momentarily helpless Chunky.
Freed from restraint Stacy's horse darted into the brake. There were now two horseless boys.
It was Tad to the rescue, firing, kicking, slashing with the bush-knife. Two of the bear hounds leaped into the rescue work with him.
"Are you hurt?" cried Tad.
"I—I don't know," replied Stacy, breathing hard.
"Get up and fight, or we're goners!"
"Oh, I'll fight!"
Instead of being frightened, the fat boy's face was flushed with anger when he got to his feet. In the fall he had lost his rifle and his revolver. With a yell Chunky launched a vicious kick at an open, snarling mouth just before him, kicking a mouthful of teeth down the beast's throat.
Tad snatched up the lost rifle and began to shoot into the pack until the magazine of the weapon had been emptied. He then clubbed the rifle and began whacking the heads of the wolves. Stacy recovered his revolver and resumed shooting, narrowly missing putting a bullet through his companion's body. As it was a bullet tore a rent in Butler's shirt at the side.
"Look out there!" he warned, without even glancing towards Chunky, keeping his eyes on the force ahead of him and beside him.
The dogs, taking fresh courage from the boys' defense of them, took up their battle with renewed vigor. Blood was dripping from the mouth of every one of them; some had rents torn in their sides, others were limping about on two legs, here and there fastening their fangs on a gray side or a gray leg as the case might be.
Stacy having emptied his revolver snatched up the limb of a tree, so heavy that he could hardly swing it, but when the limb landed it did great execution, leaving its imprint on the head that it hit. Every time he landed on a gray head, the fat boy would yell.
"Save your wind; you will need it," shouted Tad.
"They'll need theirs more."
Whack! Whack! Whack!
It was a battle royal. But the boys were gaining, as Tad quickly saw. The pack was beginning to be fearful. These doughty fighters were working sad havoc among them. Scarcely a beast there that did not bear marks of the conflict.
A long winding blast from a hunting horn sounded, but neither boy heard it. Each was too busy with his own salvation to give heed to anything outside of the work at hand. Again the horn sounded, this time closer than before.
A few moments later there were shouts and yells from the bush. Bill Lilly, followed by Ned Rector, Professor Zepplin and Walter Perkins burst from the bush riding like mad, Lilly swinging his bush-knife, whooping and yelling, the boys to the rear of him making fully as much noise.
The party halted, gazing upon the scene before them with startled eyes. They were for the moment too astonished to move or do a thing. Neither Tad nor Stacy realized that help was at hand, and the party had an opportunity, in those few seconds, to see what Tad Butler and the much maligned fat boy could do when they got into action.
The period of inactivity was brief.
"They've tackled the dogs!" roared the guide. "At them, boys, and be careful that you don't kill the hounds."
Red lights danced before the eyes of Professor Zepplin. Giving his horse the spur, he galloped into the thick of the fight with his heavy army pistol in hand. Its loud report furnished a new note in the sound of conflict. And the Professor could shoot. Every time he pulled the trigger a gray wolf's body got a bullet from his weapon.
Lilly was laying about him with his bush-knife, as Tad had done before him. Ned Rector, too, plunged into the thick of the fight, losing his hat in the first charge, while Walter Perkins hung about the outside of the lines, letting drive at a beast that now and then came his way. Bullets and beasts were flying about rather too thickly to suit Walter. He felt safer on the outside, though he was doing his part.
The battle waged fiercely for a few moments after the arrival of Lilly and his party; then one by one the attacking band began sneaking away into the cane, some to be stopped by bullets before they reached the canebrake, others dropping from wounds already received. There was a lively scattering, with those of the hounds that were able to fight trying to follow their late assailants.
Lilly called them back, riding about and heading them off, shouting, commanding, aided by Tad Butler who understood what the guide was trying to do. The more seriously injured of the hounds were lying about licking their wounds. Some already lay dead where they had made their last stand.
"Too bad, too bad!" muttered Tad Butler, pausing from his strenuous work, breathing heavily as he gazed about. Lilly, having rounded up the dogs, was counting the loss. Four hounds were dead. Six others were wounded, one or two so badly that he knew they would die. But if the dogs had suffered, the attacking band had suffered much more heavily. A count showed twenty-five dead wolves, the biggest killing, save one, known in the canebrake. And of these twenty-five, Tad Butler and Stacy Brown had killed more than half, as nearly as could be estimated.
Stacy, his clothes torn and his shins bleeding, had thrust both hands into his pockets, and was strolling unconcernedly about, with chin well elevated, as if nothing out of the ordinary had taken place.
Lilly galloped up to Tad and leaning over extended his hand.
"Good boy!" he said.
"Thank you," answered Tad with a grin.
"Good boy, Master Stacy!"
"Oh, that's all right. It was a mere trifle, not worth speaking about," replied the fat boy airily.
"If it weren't for the poor dogs, I'd laugh, young man. Master Tad, tell me about it," said Lilly.
"The wolves set upon the dogs."
"Did you see them?"
"No, sir, we heard them and hurried over here to see what was going on."
Lilly nodded to the others who had ridden up to listen.
"We tried to help them, but I guess some of the dogs were already past help even then."
"And saved the greater part of the pack," added the guide.
"But, is it possible that wolves will attack dogs, Mr. Lilly?" asked Tad.
"You have had the evidence of your own eyes. They do it frequently down here. It is a wonder they didn't finish you into the bargain. What puzzles me is why so many of them gathered on this trail."
"Does that mean anything special?" asked Rector.
"I don't know. It strikes me as queer."
Stacy stalked up pompously.
"Ah, Mr. Lilly, are there any other varieties of wild beasts down here that we haven't met up with? If so I should like an opportunity to meet them face to face. I don't want to miss anything, you know."
"It strikes me forcibly that you haven't missed much," answered the guide, grinning.
"Hadn't we better look after the dogs? We can talk afterwards," suggested Butler.
"Yes, yes," agreed the guide.
They hurried to the suffering hounds. Some had to be shot, but the most needed rest and their own treatment more than anything else, so it was decided not to try to move them until along towards night. A fire was built, and Lilly cut up one of the dead wolves, giving each dog a liberal portion as his reward. He had some coffee which he boiled. The coffee put new life into the two tired boys, who stretched out on the ground for a rest while the others talked over their courage and grit.
Tad lay with arms under his head, reflecting over the guide's peculiar remark about the pack of wolves. He wondered, too, why so large a pack had met and attacked the hounds. During the time of his rest Lilly had gone out on the trail of the escaped horses, and found them a short distance from the camp. While the guide was absent, Tad got up and walked out of camp.
"Where are you going?" called the Professor.
"For a little walk," answered Butler.
The boy was absent for nearly an hour. He returned with face wearing a puzzled expression, but he said nothing to his companions about the reason for it. Lilly questioned Tad further about the attack of the wolves.
"They must have been coming towards the hounds, judging from the trail that I found beyond the camp," said Tad.
"They were probably following the bear tracks," suggested Lilly.
"Perhaps," answered Butler reflectively.
"Have you boys fixed up your wounds?" asked the guide.
"Yes, the Professor dressed them. We were merely scratched a little. It doesn't amount to anything. But goodness! I never thought wolves could be so ugly nor so plucky," wondered Tad.
"They would not be in smaller numbers. You know the old saying, 'in unity there is strength,'" smiled Lilly.
"I know it now," answered Tad. "I have had an object lesson. And so have you all. You know, too, that Stacy Brown is not a tenderfoot. I'd like to see anyone show more grit than did he while we were fighting the wolves. It was an experience that would have frightened most anyone."
"Neither of you acted as if you were very badly scared," chuckled Lilly.
"We didn't have time to be," laughed Tad.
"Fully as exciting as fighting wild boar in the Black Forest of Germany," agreed the Professor.
"The wild pigs of the canebrake are as near as I have ever come to hunting boars," said Lilly.
"Are they ugly?" asked Walter.
"Well, I reckon they are kind of fresh now and again," answered the guide.
"The pigs are too small fry for me," declared Stacy pompously. "I want big game or no game at all."
"Chunky is afraid only of the barred owls," chuckled Tad.
"Owls and 'gators," Stacy corrected. "How about those bears? They seem to have given you fellows the slip?"
"Foxy bears," agreed the guide. "But never you mind. We will get them yet. That old she-hear we have been after must be a big one, and she is an ugly one, too. There will be a lively time when the hounds bay her out. I hope we are all in at the death."
"So do I," nodded Stacy. "I shouldn't mind a hand-to-hand conflict with an ugly old she-bear. I'd show her what sort of a bear-killer I am, I would."
"I reckon it's time we were going," announced Lilly. "We have a long hike."
The boys were willing, so the party packed up, and, after herding the dogs, started on their return journey to camp, whence they were to start on the second morning after that for the most exciting bear hunt in their experience.
They reached their permanent camp shortly after dark. Ichabod had a warm supper ready for them, and after having eaten, all gathered about the campfire to discuss the incidents of the eventful day.
"Venison steak and boiled bayou water doesn't go so badly after all," observed Stacy Brown wisely.
"Especially when you have had a hand in getting the steak," laughed Walter.
"That's the idea," agreed Chunky. "We know how we got him, too, don't we, Tad?"
Butler nodded absently. His mind was not on that particular subject at the moment. There was that on his mind which he was trying to solve, in order to get a clear understanding, but reason as he might he was not able to work the problem out to his own satisfaction.
"Mr. Lilly, you don't think for a moment that this man who stole the doe could have been responsible in any way for the attack of the pack on our hounds, do you?" questioned the Professor.
Tad looked up with keen interest reflected on his face.
"I don't see how that would be possible, Professor. Man can't make those whelps do his bidding. At any rate, we shan't be troubled again after what the boys did to them this afternoon. That was a killing worth while. I reckon I'll have something to tell the folks when I get home and so will you. The Major will be interested, too. He said you were a lively bunch, but I reckon he didn't know just how true that was when he said it."
"Yes, the Major was right," observed Stacy airily. "Some of us are all of that."
"Especially Stacy Brown," spoke up Ned.
"Stacy Brown and Tad Butler," corrected the fat boy. "Still, you and the Professor did very well after you got on the job. But we had them pretty well thinned out by the time you arrived. About all there was left to do was to gather up the wounded and bury the dead. Professor, that pistol of yours would stop an elephant. How it did keel those beasts over!" chuckled Stacy at the recollection of Professor Zepplin's shooting.
"It is my old army pistol. I contend that these new-fangled weapons are no more effective, especially in small arms. There has been some improvement in the long-range guns since my time."
"Since the North 'fit' the South," suggested Lilly with a grin.
"Yes. It is a far cry from the old muzzle-loader to the improved weapon of today. A far cry, indeed."
"Then you think the fellow with whom we had the trouble could have had nothing to do with the attack of the wolves?" questioned Tad.
"Of course not. That might have been possible, but it wasn't."
"Ambiguous, but good sense," muttered Professor Zepplin.
"Why do you ask?" demanded Lilly.
"I wanted to know. I am a little bothered about some features of the affair," Tad answered.
Lilly regarded the Pony Rider Boy thoughtfully.
"You have something on your mind?"
"Well, yes, I have," admitted Tad.
"Out with it. It doesn't do to hold in too much at a time like the present."
"You know I went out on that trail this afternoon, Mr. Lilly?"
"No, I didn't know it. To which trail do you refer?"
"The bear trail we will call it."
"From the other way?"
"Yes, sir. I went in the opposite direction to that supposed to have been taken by Bruin, and I discovered some things that puzzled me."
"On the trail?" asked the Professor.
"Yes, sir."
"What did you discover?" demanded Lilly eagerly.
"I found the trail of a horse in the first place."
"Going which way?"
"Toward this camp. The horse turned—"
"You don't mean this camp exactly. You mean the place where we made temporary camp this afternoon, don't you?"
"Yes, sir, that is what I mean. The horse, as I was saying, turned about just beyond where we had the fight with the wolves, and took the back trail, or nearly so."
"Hm-m-m!" mused the guide. "That is peculiar. Fresh tracks?"
"Within a few hours of the time I found them, sir."
"What did you make of them?"
"Not much of anything. But that was not all I discovered. I found a dead dog a little way from camp."
"I saw several myself," laughed Ned Rector.
"One of our dogs?" questioned Lilly.
"No, sir, it was not. Furthermore, the dog had a leash, a long one, about his neck. He hadn't been dragged. I found the dog's footprints almost up to the point where his carcass lay."
Bill Lilly was beginning to show signs of excitement.
"Go on. What had happened to the dog?"
"He had been shot and left where he was killed. The wolves or some other animals had torn his flesh some, but not so much that I could not tell what killed him. He was killed by a bullet. I wonder why?"
"Can't you guess?" asked Lilly.
"I have an idea now. It has just occurred to me."
Lilly rose to his full height, tugging at his moustache with both hands, gazing fixedly at Tad Butler.
"It's more work of that miserable whelp. He's done it this time. I see how it was. I should have thought of that before. If my eyes had been as sharp as yours, Master Tad, you wouldn't need to have told me."
"Tell us what you suspect," urged Professor Zepplin, who was as much puzzled as the rest. Even Stacy was regarding the guide with inquiring eyes. The latter was striding up and down, tugging at his moustache as if he owed it a grudge.
"What I suspect? I don't suspect at all. I know now, thanks to Master Tad's keen scent. What has been done is this. Some whelp, knowing what we were going to do, has hit the bear trail leading a dog. He knew the wolves were in that vicinity, so he rode along the back trail, leading the dog behind him, knowing full well that the wolves would scent it, and, knowing it was a lone dog, would follow it. You see he figured that the pack would sooner or later come up with our hounds. He knew that there would be a battle and he hoped we would lose all our dogs."
"The cold-blooded scoundrel!" exclaimed Ned Rector.
"There! What did I tell you, Tad?" cried Stacy. "I ought to have shot the beast while I had the chance. He played us about as I thought he would. Why, if you had let me have my way, I should have taken his horse away from him and set him adrift. I guess he wouldn't have played any such miserable trick on us. No, sir, he would have all he wanted to do to get out of the woods, let alone dragging a lone dog along the bear trail to call the wolves to our pack. Oh, what a beast!"
"It is well that your revengeful disposition was not allowed free range," answered the Professor rebukingly.
"It is done now. We can't help ourselves," said Tad.
"It isn't done," exclaimed Lilly. "I am not done. I am going after the man who caused the death of half of our hounds. He isn't fit to eat out of the same pan with the dogs. Better would he eat with the wild pigs of the swamp. Master Butler, you have keen eyes and you are sharp as a she-bear with cubs."
Tad smiled at the comparison.
"Tomorrow morning I hit the trail. Do you want to go with me, Butler?"
"I am ready for anything," answered the Pony Rider Boy.
"So am I," piped Chunky.
"One is enough," replied Lilly. "I think the two of us will be able to do the job as it should be done."
"What is it you propose to do?" questioned the Professor.
"Well, we-all reckon to catch the fellow who is bothering us. When a mosquito buzzes around your head, threatening to bite you, you swat him, don't you?"
"Yes, but this is different."
"It's the same thing, except that this mosquito has two legs instead of four. He'll be limping on one before I have finished with him if I get hold of him."
"Surely, you don't intend to shed human blood?" objected Professor Zepplin.
"I am not saying what I'll do. I am taking the kid with me to kind of hold me back in case I get too mad. Then, as I said, he has the eyes that see things as they are. Tomorrow morning, Master Tad, with the Professor's permission—"
"I will consider the matter," answered the Professor.
"Tomorrow morning," said Tad, grinning and nodding to his companions.
"You folks will make an awful fizzle of it if you don't take me along," declared the fat boy with a slow shake of the head.