XVIIIAROUND THE CAMPFIRE
The rejuvenated motor continued to sing most merrily as Perk hastened to cover the back trail leading to the ship nesting upon the quiet lake.
“Huh! I jest knew Jack could get the hang o’ things,” he told himself in high glee, “makes a big clatter I’ll tell the world, but after you’ve been forced to drop down agin your will, they ain’t nuthin’ in natur so sweet as the drummin’ o’ a ship’s motor. Some fine day mebbe we’ll have the good luck to be runnin’ a boat with twin motors, so if one kicks off the duplicate c’n carry on.”
After he joined his mate and duly examined what Jack had done, the sound of the beating motor ceased since there was no need of wasting any more juice to celebrate the happy occasion.
“That trouble will never happen again with me,” Jack was saying with grim earnestness. “I know just how it must have come about and expect to put the kibosh on any repetition.”
“Jest as you’ve said to me many a time, partner,” Perk spoke up, “an ounce o’ prevention’s a heap better’n a pound o’ cure. Learnin’ somethin’ new ev’ry day, seems like, but it’s okay if on’y you keep the same trick from springin’ up again an’ gettin’ your goat”
They took things easy and lay around for another hour and more. Jack, as usual, consulted his chart and did some figuring. Perk, quite content to let the Chief do most of the planning, amused himself in various ways, as was his habit when they were not flying. Puttering with this little thing, poking around the stores as if to figure just how many more meals would exhaust what he had laid in so bountifully and bring them near starvation and tiring at length of this sort of thing he lapsed into inaction, puffing at his beloved pipe and indulging possibly in daydreams.
Once Jack chanced to turn an inquiring eye in his direction to see him nodding his head, and counting his fingers, as though adding up some score.
“At it again, I bet a cookey,” Jack thereupon told himself, holding back the casual remark he had intended making, “browsing on that same old game of trying to remember a name by going over the whole alphabet again and again. Poor old Perk, how that defective memory does bother him. He’ll get no peace of mind until he happens to strike what he’s fishing for and since I never did hear the boy’s full name mentioned I just can’t help him a mite.”
Jack had guessed aright, for just then Perk was saying to himself in a low but earnest tone, something of the old formula:
“Sufferin’ cats! it sure began with an R I bet my boots! Randolph, no, don’t jest sound right to my ear—Ratcliff, Randall, Ratterman—strikes me it ended in man—Rodman—hang the luck, what the devilisthe matter with my think-box? Did you ever know sech a tantalizin’ mess—just openin’ my trap to say it out loud when before I could get the right word out it slipped me like a wet cake o’ soap on the bathroom floor when you set a foot on it. I’m sure hoodooed for keeps, an’ it’s no good.”
By this time the afternoon was wearing away and before long night would be putting a dark blanket over the deep notch in the mountains. Perk suddenly came out of his fit of abstraction to remark cheerily:
“Guess now it’s ’bout time I got busy ashore, an’ started that ’ere fire. I gathered some firewood ready an’ it ain’t goin’ to take much time to get supper goin’.”
Accordingly he began to fill his arms with the things previously set aside, consisting for the most part of food, coffee pot, skillet and last but not least, the dependable machine-gun with which a provident Government had fitted out its flying detective squad when starting them on their way to rounding up lawbreakers who were in many instances taking to the air.
“Call me when you’re ready or need any help, brother,” Jack told him, he being still engaged in his extensive figuring and marking places on his handy little chart, as though mapping out his campaign as well as such a thing was possible.
Perk had his blaze going in almost record time, for he was an adept at fire-building. Later on, from the delicious odors that came stealing to his olfactories, Jack knew that supper was on the way.
Having by then finished his work, he laid things aside and for the next ten minutes watched the busy one on shore at his pleasing task. It was certainly a picture that was bound to arise again and again in Jack’s mind. The star-studded heavens against which towering mountain peaks were outlined, the lapping of little wavelets on the shore where there chanced to be a narrow strip of sandy beach, the neighboring small bunch of pines through which an evening breeze was sighing as if playing Nature’s Eolian harp in a lullaby for the lately departed day, the rocky shore line, bordering that limpid gem of a lake where he could hear an occasional trout breaking water—taken in all it was a dream, as Jack told himself more than a few times.
“First call to supper—all that’s hungry get goin’ while things are hot! I ain’t meanin’ to wait more’n three shakes o’ a lamb’s tail ’fore I pitches in. Hi! there, partner, shake a leg!”
The bill of fare may not have been very extensive, but there was an abundance of substantial food and best of all ravenous appetites to be satiated. Perk was as happy as a lark and a dozen times demanded of his comrade if he had ever partaken of anything that tasted better than the slice of ham with the fried eggs to give it the proper caper, after which the coffee came in for his flattery.
“Course I know right well it’s awful f’r the cook to praise his own work, but I jest can’t help sayin’ it’s a swell supper, taken in all. Another piece o’ fried ham, ol’ pard, tho’ sorry there ain’t no more eggs at all—lucky what I laid by didn’t get smashed in the runnin’—which goes to show what a good packer I am—might even get a job with that gang o’ mule skinners an’ their loads o’ moonshine stuff.”
Never had Jack seen his chum more joyous as after he had filled up with the appetizing camp supper. He beamed on his mate and only for having laid in such a big supply of grub asserted he’d be tempted to try the fishing as there were surely trout in the lake from their incessant jumping along about sundown when insects skittered about on the surface and mealtime had come for the finny tribes.
In the midst of his chattering Perk suddenly stopped and appeared to be intently listening.
“Well, I guess now,” he remarked, grinning, “I was away off my base when I says there ain’t nary a wild animal inside o’ twenty miles o’ this spot ’cause listen to ’em yappin’, will you, partner?”
“Wolves I reckon,” observed Jack who had also caught the distant sounds.
“Jest what they be,” Perk continued triumphantly, “an’ sounds to me like they made some sort o’ a killin’ an’ are all het up with the victory. There, died out like snuffin’ a candle out, showin’ they got started on the grub. Queer what different tastes critters have. Some like their venison raw while others aim to cook it to a turn over red coals an’ chaw it while hot. But venison sure isgoodany which way you cook it over a real camp-fire.”
Jack saw him lick his lips with his tongue as though even the mention of that chief standby of a hunter’s feast made his mouth water. Perk certainly did think a heap of his eats, as he so often frankly admitted.
They heard nothing further from the wolf pack but at least the circumstance had assured Perk that the rocky mountain sides were not as lacking in big game as he had been convinced earlier in the evening. So too, no doubt he was telling himself that it might pay to keep his gun within reach when the time came for them to hit the hay as he usually termed the act of turning in.
They remained ashore for another hour or so, just on account of the change. The rocks were anything but comfortable as a seat, but Perk managed to find a quantity of moss near by which added to their ease when judiciously applied.
Finally Jack proposed going aboard the ship.
“Me too, Boss!” sang out Perk, “’cause I’m sorter tired an’ feel like gettin’ rested up. Things look okay to me an’ mebbe we’ll have a quiet night—if on’y them hungry wolves get filled up an’ don’t ketch wind o’ our bein’ in the neighborhood. Hugh! if they know what’s good for ’em they’ll give this lakeshore a wide berth while me’n my ol’ chattergun are on deck.”