CHAPTER XXIVTHE MOVIES CAMP
“Say, we can’t go there,” spoke Vic, as they followed an erratic dash through the thicket, coming to a spongy meadow, a rise created with undergrowth and finally the edge of a bog.
“We’ve got to,” declared Pep. “For the last ten minutes all of the bees have disappeared except two of them, which flew right in among those high rushes.”
“I say,” cried Vic, abruptly, “there’s a stream of them flying into the bog! See—see! They’ve dropped! No, there they are again.”
The boys followed the edge of the swamp for over half a mile. Suddenly, a few feet in advance of Pep, his companion came to a staring halt and cried out:
“There they are!”
Pep hurried to Vic’s side to obtain a glimpse of an opening in the flags and willows. A quarter of a mile away, sloping up ten feet above surrounding water and bog land, was an island. It was well wooded, but through the trees in thecentre they could see some kind of a high-boarded enclosure.
“See it?” cried the excited Vic. “I’ll bet we’ve discovered something. Looks like a stockade.”
“We have located our people,” asserted Pep, with a thrill of exultation in his voice. “The boards around that enclosure look just like those in the film.”
“Let’s find out right off if my camels are in there,” spoke Vic, eagerly.
Pep looked dubiously at the prospect before them. The large area surrounding the island was at places covered with water several feet in depth, at others with a sticky mass of black mire. There might be some more secure way of reaching it from the other side of the swamp, but this would necessitate a three or four miles’ tramp.
“I’ve a good mind to try it,” remarked Pep, after a brief thinking spell. “See here, Vic, there seems to be more of mushy mud from here across than at the first place where we struck the swamp. There’s clumps of flag roots here and there, and I think we can get across.”
“I think so, too,” responded Vic. “We can try it, anyhow.”
The boys divested themselves of their shoesand stockings, rolled up their trousers above their knees, selected two long stout poles from the debris of a fallen tree, and started forth on their expedition, Pep in the lead.
It was no easy nor pleasant task they had chosen. They discovered this before they were half-way across the swampy stretch of ground. There were places where a misstep sent them waist deep into a spongy mass of rotted bog grass. At others a jump to a seemingly solid clump of roots sent the water spurting up about them in cascades.
Twice Vic got mired in the mud and Pep had to pull him out. They were fully an hour getting to the edge of the island. Thus far they had caught no sight of anybody about the place. They were so exhausted, that as they reached dry land at last they threw themselves down upon the ground, panting for breath and completely exhausted.
“That was a hard pull,” spoke Pep, at length. “Say,” he added, pointing, “just as we calculated there is a kind of a road, or rather half solid path, leading from the island across that other side of the bog.”
“I see it,” responded Vic and he got up and ran to the outside of the high, board enclosure. “Pep! Pep!” he instantly whispered, beckoning.
In an instant both lads were peering through a broad crack between two boards. Their hearts fluttered and their eyes distended. An old man was setting up some painted scenery screens. Just beyond him was a kind of shed, or covered stall. Within it, feeding on some hay, was a camel.
“Oh,” gasped Vic, tumultuously, “it must be mine!”
They could view only the hind feet of the animal and could make out that one of these was encircled by a chain running to an iron stake driven into the ground.
“We’ve found one of your stolen camels,” proclaimed Pep, in a satisfied tone. “There don’t seem to be anybody around except that old man. Judging from the costumes and features lying around, though, it’s easy to see that this is a regular movies camp.”
“Perhaps the rest of the crowd have gone somewhere to act out a scene,” suggested Vic. “Say, Pep. I’m going to find out if that is really mine and if the others are here.”
As he spoke Vic drew from his pocket a three-tubed wooden whistle. Pep had seen this before, for Vic had shown it to him on several occasions and explained its use. Bill Purvis had given it to him, telling him that it was a signalwhistle to which the camels always responded. In fact he guided the animals through the whistle, which he had made himself and which gave out a triple hollow note unlike any whistle Pep had ever heard before.
“Try it, if you want to,” advised Pep, and Vic placed the whistle to his lips. He blew one brief trilling blast.
“Gracious!” ejaculated Pep.
“It’s my camel!” exclaimed the overjoyed Vic.
That strange echoing call had produced a startling effect. There was a roar from the shed confining the camel and then a ripping, tearing sound. Out of the stall the animal swung, tearing up the iron stake which now dangled from the end of the chain behind him.
The old man within the enclosure turned to view the aroused camel with frightened eyes. He ran for a sharp-pointed spear nearby. Before he could reach the animal, however, the camel—for the mark on the forefoot proved that it was one of the stolen pets of Bill Purvis—had made a reckless, devastating dash for the spot outside where the familiar signal call had sounded.
“He’s coming straight for the fence,” shouted Pep. “Get out of the way, quick!”
There was a frightful crash. The high boardswent hurtling to splinters. The animal crowded past the wreckage as if the barrier had been made of tissue paper.
Overjoyed, but with a great deal of trepidation, Vic ran in the direction of the beaten way forming a sort of passage to the mainland, Pep accompanying him. The camel started after them, as if he, too, sought a means of leaving the island where he had been a captive.
The animal dropped the furious manner he had shown when he had made his onslaught upon the fence of the enclosure. He looked as pleasant at the boys as a camel can look. Apparently there would have been no trouble whatever, had not the old man rushed out through the hole in the fence carrying a sharp, hooked pole.
As he saw the boys he shook his fist at them, as if connecting them with the disaster of the moment. Then he ran up behind the camel and viciously buried the pointed end of the hook deep in one flank. The animal uttered a shrill cry of pain and then turned on the man and gave him a savage nip in the arm.
Surprised and alarmed, the man turned and ran away. At that same moment came other strange sounds from a sort of barn not far away.
“Look!” cried Pep.
“The other camels!” yelled Vic, joyfully.
He was right, from out of the structure three more camels had come. They now ran to join the leader, and all trotted behind Vic and Pep.
“Let us lead them to that farm!” cried Vic.
“Yes, we had better get out of here while we have time,” was the panting answer.
“We’ll ride!” went on the owner of the camels. “Wait, I’ll show you how.”
He made two of the beasts kneel down and he climbed up on the back of one and Pep got on the back of the other. Then the boys lost no time in finding their way through the marsh once more. Several times they looked back, but saw nothing of any pursuers.
They breathed more freely as, four hours later, they came within sight of the Bacon place. The camels in their cumbersome but steady way had kept up a tramp without a single halt.
There was a startled scream from the kitchen of the Bacon homestead as its mistress caught sight of the camels walking into the yard and approaching the water trough. From the direction of the fields Pep saw Mr. Bacon and his two sons scampering towards them, attracted by a distant sight of the unfamiliar intruders.
They had just reached the center of activity and Pep had barely made them understand the situation,when two horsemen came dashing along the road they had just followed.
One of them rode the piebald horse that had been so often described to the boys during their search for its owner.
“You’ve stolen our camels!” shouted its rider, leaping to the ground. “Slip the chain hooks on ’em, Ben,” he spoke to his companion.
“They are mine!” cried Vic. “You stole them once. You’d better leave them alone and be off, or you’ll get yourself in a whole heap of trouble.”
“No, he won’t be off,” sounded a grim voice, and Farmer Bacon, who had momentarily run into the house, now ran out of it. He held a double-barreled shotgun in his hand.
“See here, what is this your business?” demanded the first movies man.
“Just this! that horse of yours drove away with one of my bee hives two nights ago. Dick,” went on the farmer to one of his sons, “Saddle Nellie and get lickety-switch to Squire Bisbee. Tell him to fetch a couple of constables with him. I’m going to sift this business and know the rights of things before you leave this farm, stranger!”