Kitabı oku: «The Boy Scouts at the Canadian Border», sayfa 6
CHAPTER XI
ZEB MAKES GOOD
Since they had been aroused, and the dawn was at hand, there was no use of going back to their blankets again. So the boys finished their simple dressing, and washed up outside the door. Tubby declared the air was as cold as the Arctic regions and it must surely be some degrees below freezing, two assertions that hardly bore out each other.
Zeb Crooks was gotten out of his bunk. Rob had made up his mind to release the other. He now believed the story the repentant guide had so frankly told them, and thought it would be too humiliating for Zeb to be found tied up by a trio of boys, when his employer returned.
But Rob took his time about carrying this out, though he had already obtained the backing of Tubby in the scheme. While the latter was preparing breakfast, and Andy had stepped out, gun in hand, for a little walk around, in hopes of seeing something in the line of game on which he could prove his skill as a marksman, the scout leader walked over to where the big guide sat with his back against the wall.
“You still say, do you, Zeb,” he commenced, “that you meant to stay in the cabin here until Mr. Hopkins came back, and then ask him to overlook your foolishness?”
“I sartin did, youngster,” affirmed the other vehemently, and then adding, “Thar was times when I got plumb skeered, because I hated to think of meetin’ that look in my boss’s eyes. I even considered whether I had ought to stay and take his money agin, arter I’d been so mean. I tried to write a leetle note I was calculatin’ to leave here, in case my nerve give out and I slipped away agin.”
“A note do you say?” demanded Rob quickly. “Did you keep it, Zeb?”
“Shore I did, sir. It’s right here in my pocket, tho’ mebbe arter all I’d a-stayed the thing out, and then I needn’t use it. But I didn’t know, I wasn’t right sartin I could stand for it.”
Rob leaned over, and after fumbling around for a short time managed to find the well-thumbed paper. Evidently Zeb’s education lay mostly in an extensive knowledge of woodcraft and the habits of wild animals, for he could not have spent much time learning to spell, or in applying the ordinary rules of grammar. Rob might have smiled at the primitive product of the big guide’s untrained hand only for the fact that somehow his eyes were strangely blinded while he read.
“Mister hopkins, der sur, I ben the bigest fule livin’ i gess to ack like i done with the best frend i ever had, and sur i wanted to tell you this but i dident hay the nerve to stay. i em agoin hum an wen i look in the cleer eyes of my gal Ruth as was named after yur own ded wife i feel like kickin myself, but i shore do hope yo kin forgiv Zeb Crooks and mebbe next year hire me agin. I had my leson, sur, thats rite, an never agin siz i. An i hopes yo git that big bull moose this time thats awl.
Zeb Crooks.”
Rob folded that soiled sheet of paper, torn from a memorandum book. He meant to keep it, and on the sly show it to Mr. Hopkins, who could appreciate the manly nature that had thus conquered in the battle with an evil spirit. Andy would not appreciate such a message, for he must suspect that it was only intended to blind the eyes of a trusting person and conceal the man’s real intentions. Yes, Tubby might see it, some time or other. Rob intended to keep it always.
“Well, Zeb,” he went on to say cheerfully, to hide the emotion he felt, “we’ve concluded to set you free. You can stay around until they get back from the Tucker Pond, when there’ll be a chance to fix matters up with Mr. Hopkins.”
“I’m shore plumb pleased to hear that, younker,” declared the guide, grinning. “It ain’t none too pleasant to be tied up, and some humiliatin’, seein’ as how you are only boys. The sorest thing o’ all would have been to let him see me this way.”
“That’s going to be all right, Zeb,” said Rob, much impressed with the justice of this remark. “I’ll see to it that none of us tell him we made you a prisoner. We believe what you’ve been telling us. In fact, I thought you were straight from the beginning, but that note clinched it for me.”
He soon had the rope unfastened. Tubby, looking over from the fire, nodded his head in appreciation. Andy, coming in shortly afterward, failed to make any disagreeable remark, from which it might be judged that he had begun to think better of his former opinion with regard to Zeb’s honesty.
The guide acted as though nothing out of the way had happened. He assisted Tubby in getting breakfast, just as he was in the habit of doing for his employer. Indeed, Zeb seemed to improve upon acquaintance, and Rob felt certain he had not made a mistake in tempering justice with mercy.
They had a merry time of it at breakfast. The boys were light-hearted by nature, and Zeb seemed to be growing to like them very much. He asked many questions in connection with their past experiences. They had any quantity of incidents to relate, some of which caused the Maine guide to open his eyes wide; for the accounts Tubby and Rob gave of what wonderful things they had seen when with the fighting armies in Belgium and France were enough to thrill any one to the core.
Later on that morning Andy started forth again, bent on picking up some game. He was advised by Rob to be careful and not get lost, an injunction which he promised to heed.
Rob had been more or less anxious during the night. He could not get it out of his mind that the man who piloted that aeroplane had been spying out the land on the other side of the border for some dark purpose. Rob had half fancied he heard a distant heavy sound that might be caused by an explosion, though on second thought he decided that he was wrong.
Two nights had passed without anything of this sort happening. He wished Mr. Hopkins would get back to the camp so he could consult with so experienced a man as Tubby’s uncle must be, and decide what their duty should be.
Andy did not come back until after the others had started to eat lunch. When they saw the number of plump partridges he carried they congratulated him on his good luck. Rob had anticipated something of this sort, having heard a number of shots in rapid succession, so suspecting that the hunter had struck game.
“But, shucks!” Andy went on to say in a disgusted tone, “I’m almost ashamed to tell you how easy they came to me. Why, after I’d flushed the covey they went and alighted in a tree with wide-spreading branches. There half a dozen of the silly birds perched on a lower limb, and I picked off one as nice as you please. Still, to my surprise, the rest didn’t fly away, but just sat there, craning their necks to look down and see what their companion was doing all that kicking and fluttering on the ground for. Guess the gumps thought it was a new sort of partridge cake-walk. Anyway I nailed the second one, then a third and a fourth, and, why, would you believe me, I actually got the fifth when the last bird flew away. It was too easy a job; like taking candy from the baby. Don’t call me a hunter, I feel more like a butcher right now.”
“But, Andy, they’re nice and fat,” cooed Tubby, running his hand admiringly down the speckled breast of one bird. “I’m figuring on rigging up a dandy spit so we can cook it in front of the fire. I’ve tasted chickens cooked that way at a restaurant in the city, and my! but they were delicious.”
“They did use a spit ages and ages ago,” laughed Rob, “which goes to show that after all our forefathers knew a good thing or two that hasn’t been improved upon in all these centuries. Here’s hoping you have the best of luck, Tubby. If you need any help, call on me.”
Tubby did put in most of the afternoon on that job. Zeb took it upon himself to attend to the fowls, which he dressed most carefully. Tubby was more than glad that the little company had received an addition, for if there was one thing he disliked doing it was cleaning birds or fish.
Along in the late afternoon he had the right kind of a fire for his purpose. With all the birds fastened on his home-made spits, which could be revolved with a clock-like motion, Tubby set to work to prove himself a master chef. Indeed, as the work went on, and the revolving birds began to take on a brown hue the odors that permeated every part of the long bunk-house were enough to set any ordinary hungry boy half crazy. Andy was seen to hurriedly take his departure, after finding out from Tubby that supper would not be ready for at least half an hour; it looked as though he for one could not stand it to “be so near, and yet so far.”
When Tubby grew tired or overheated he would give the willing Zeb a chance to make himself “useful as well as ornamental,” as Tubby jokingly remarked. He and the big Maine guide were the best of friends. It looked as though Zeb would have a pretty good advocate with the uncle in case any were needed to straighten out his affairs with Mr. Hopkins.
Finally the summons was beaten on a skillet, always welcome to those who have been hanging around, and suffering cruel tortures because the minutes seem to drag with leaden feet. Every one pronounced Tubby’s enterprise a most wonderful success. Partridges may have tasted fine before, when cooked in one of those hunters’ earthen bake-ovens that resemble a fireless cooker so much; but in that case they would have simply been as though steamed, and lacked all that brown crispness.
Still no sign of the party from the Tucker Pond. They must surely come back by another day, Rob thought, with a feeling akin to uneasiness; for once more he dreaded what a night might bring forth, his thoughts being again carried across the line into the country whose sons were in the trenches over in Belgium and the North of France.
So Rob felt that his mind would be much relieved if only another day saw Mr. Hopkins, in order that he might shift the burden to older shoulders. Somehow it seemed to the anxious scout master as though some sort of responsibility had been placed upon them because they chanced to see that airman making his reconnoissance two days before.
The night was now upon them. Little did any of those three boys suspect what thrilling events were destined to take place in their lives and how their patriotism would be tested before another daybreak came. They sat around as usual, and made merry. Tubby played with the dog, for Wolf had not offered to run away again. It was concluded that he must have given up all hope of ever finding his former home; or else felt quite contented to remain with his new masters, who fed him so abundantly.
It was getting well along toward nine o’clock, and some of them had even commenced to show signs of being drowsy, for it must be remembered that they had not been allowed to enjoy a full night’s sleep on the preceding night.
Andy said he would step outside and see what the signs promised in the heaven for the next day. He pretended to be quite a weather prophet. He had hardly closed the door behind him, it seemed to Tubby, than they heard him coming hastily back again. He seemed excited, too, a fact that caused Tubby to struggle to his feet, though the others were already ahead of him.
“I wish you would all come out here and listen,” said Andy. “I may be mistaken, and, perhaps, after all, it’s only some freak of the breeze whining through a hole in the cabin wall; but, honest to goodness, it struck me that it was some one calling in the distance, and calling for help, too.”
CHAPTER XII
A SCOUT’S FIRST DUTY
“My stars! what’s going to happen next, I wonder!” Tubby said half to himself, as they all made a rush for the outside, Andy leading the way, as became the first discoverer.
“Now, keep real quiet and listen!” cautioned Andy, after they had reached the open air.
Their hearts beat doubly fast, and knocked tumultuously against their prison walls. The boys fairly held their breath, such was their eagerness to hear, and learn whether Andy could have been mistaken.
A whole anxious minute crept past. To Tubby it seemed an eternity, for he was trying to do without breathing at all, a rather rash experiment for any one, and especially for a stout fellow of his build. Something came floating on the gentle night wind.
“There, didn’t you all hear it?” cried Andy exultantly.
“We certainly did,” said Rob instantly.
“Sounded a little like one of those winnowing whoop owls to me,” ventured Tubby, but he was immediately squelched by the first discoverer.
“Owl nothing! Whoever heard an owl call out ‘Help! Oh! Help!’?”
“I felt pretty sure it was that,” replied the scout master. Turning to the experienced Maine woodsman he added: “How about that, Zeb, owl or a human cry for assistance?”
“I guess as how it wa’n’t anything that carried feathers as called, sir,” Zeb quickly answered. His backing Andy up made Tubby display further signs of uncommon excitement.
“Somebody is in serious trouble, boys,” burst from Tubby’s lips almost impulsively. “We’ve got to start out and help him, no matter who he is, or what’s happened to him. That’s scout logic, I take it – save me first, and scold me afterwards, as the boy said when he was drowning and a man on the bank began – ”
“The rest will keep, Tubby,” said Rob. “You’ll have to stay here, and keep the fire going for us. Three ought to be enough for the job. Get the guns, Andy and Zeb. I’ll take that lantern belonging to Mr. Hopkins. We may need some light in the woods. Be quick about it, everybody. There, he’s calling again. Perhaps I’d better answer him.”
Rob sent out a loud hallo that could easily have been heard half a mile away at any time. Without waiting to find out whether the unknown made any reply, he shot into the bunkhouse and started to apply a match to the ready lantern which had been discovered during the day hanging from a peg behind some extra garments.
Tubby did not look very happy. True, he would be saved from quite a tramp, and that counted for something. He was not at all tired, and would, had he been given the chance, much prefer accompanying his mates. Still, Tubby was a good scout, and had long ago learned the value of unquestioning obedience to authority. Rob was above him in rank as the leader of the Eagle Patrol, as well as acting scout master of the Hampton Troop, and what he said in such a decisive manner must go.
So Tubby determined that he would build the fire, and have everything warm and comfortable against the return of his chums. He could shut and bar the door; yet, and – Rob evidently did not mean to take his gun along with him (thinking two would be quite enough), so there would be that to depend on, if any danger threatened.
It took the trio but a part of a minute to get ready, so eager were they to be on the move. They hurried out of the door. Tubby watched them depart, standing in the open doorway. How weird the lantern did look bobbing along at the side of Rob. Tubby wondered what sort of discovery they would make. If some one was in trouble, could it be his uncle who, on attempting to return to the logging camp alone, had fallen and broken a limb? Or, on the other hand, had some woodsman cut himself severely with his ax, and weak from loss of blood, fallen on the road to the camp, able only to weakly call for help?
No matter what it turned out the very thought of some one being in need of help thrilled honest Tubby, who would have “walked his legs off,” as he often declared, to render assistance. Further the bobbing lantern went. The murmur of his chums’ voices, too, died away in the distance. Suddenly he could no longer glimpse the light, and all was dark and mysterious beyond. Then only did Tubby deign to go in and close the door after him, being careful to make use of the handy bar that nested in the sockets on either side.
He built up a roaring fire, because somehow, the cheery crackle of the devouring flames felt like company to him. They had an abundant supply of good firewood, some of which Tubby had himself gathered from around the former lumber camp.
Tubby picked up Rob’s gun and sat looking into the fire, doubtless seeing all sorts of queer pictures there, as boys sometimes will. Evidently his thoughts were on other things, for after a while he approached the exit, unfastened the bar, and opening the door a little stood there listening, oh! so eagerly.
That was a real owl crooning to his mate now in the big hemlock over the way, although at first Tubby thought it might be the same sound they had heard before. He wondered whether they had been “fooled,” and if it would turn out to be a fool’s errand that took his chums and Big Zeb forth on that mercy trip.
Tubby had to chuckle, proudly remembering that it had been himself who had suggested “owl,” though Andy instantly made fun of him for so doing. The joke would be on Andy then, should it eventually turn out that way.
Hearing no further sound from those who had gone away, nor a repetition of the supposed cry for help, Tubby reluctantly closed the door, put the bar in place, and taking his seat again before the fire, resumed his vigil.
Meanwhile the three were making their way through the woods. The darkness was not intense, and possibly they could have gotten along quite well without the lantern. Nevertheless, none of them was sorry for having it; more than one stumble was spared them on account of it.
They had noted well the quarter from which the faint cries had come, and were now heading in that direction. All was still around them, save for the rustle of scurrying little feet in the dried pine needles, as perhaps a fox on the prowl for his supper slipped out of the way; or possibly it may have been a mink, for there was some sort of stream close by, which emptied into the river down which the logs had been sent when the big spring drive was on.
“We’re heading right, don’t you think, Zeb?” asked Rob presently, being desirous of confirming his own opinion, and knowing that the experienced guide and woodsman could be depended on to be accurate.
“Straight as a die, younker,” the man told him, and then added: “I’m a heap s’prised to see how you boys kerry on. ’Tain’t every lad from the towns that could pick out a sound like you done, and then direct that way. I guess thar must be a heap o’ sense in this here scout business, an’ I gotter take off my hat to it, that’s a fack.”
Words like that give a scout a warm feeling in the region of his heart. Appreciation is always welcome when genuine; to be complimented by an expert like Big Zeb, the man who had served Uncle George for ten years as guide and handy man in camp, was thrice pleasant. Still, both Rob and Andy were used to hearing people say nice things, and it never brought on a case of “swelled head” with such sensible fellows.
A short time later on Rob spoke again.
“I tried to take into consideration the fact that the wind wasn’t altogether favorable, and also that the chap called as if he might be hoarse from weakness or excitement. So I figured that he couldn’t be more than a quarter of a mile off at the time. How did you make out, Andy?”
“Oh! I thought he was further than that, say two-thirds of a mile as the crow flies; but I didn’t count on his being exhausted, as you say, Rob.”
“If you asked me, younkers,” said Zeb, “I’d fix it atween the two o’ you. I should say we’d a’ready gone nearly a quarter o’ a mile from camp. But we ain’t heard nary a sign o’ him yet. S’pose we let out a call, and tried fur a raise?”
“A good idea, Zeb,” admitted the scout master. Raising his voice he called out: “Hello! there, where are you?”
Almost immediately they heard a half-stifled cry that seemed to be full of partly suppressed joy.
“This way, over here to your left, man! Oh! please hurry up. I’m in a sair bad fix, and there’s an awfu’ need o’ haste!”
The words thrilled them once more. Now they were sure that it was no imaginary summons that had lured them from the warm fire; someone was there in the depths of the pine woods, unable to help himself, strange as that might seem.
“Rob, that sounded more like a boy’s voice than a man’s heavy tones,” suggested Andy.
“Just what I was thinking,” said the observing scout master. “Do you know there seemed a little odd twist in his way of speaking that made me think of Scotch Jock back in Hampton. Whoever this chap turns out to be, mark my words, he’s got Scotch blood in his veins.”
“There he calls out again, you notice,” exclaimed Andy presently, “and we’re heading right, it seems. I reckon he sees the light of our lantern, though we can’t yet get the first glimpse of him.”
“But we will very soon now,” Rob assured him. “The last hail was close by.”
They were consumed with both curiosity and eagerness to be of assistance. Neither of them could more than guess at what they were going to see; and it may be admitted that not even wise Zeb came anyway near to hitting the mark.
He may have figured that some one had fallen and injured his leg or ankle; or another sort of accident – a tree falling on him; being cut through by a misstroke of a keen-edged ax; or having his gun go off, when drawing it muzzle forward through some dense brush – as greenhorns often do at peril of their lives; but if they guessed for an hour they would not have dreamed of the remarkable sight that met their gaze.
“There, I think I can just manage to see him, Rob – over by that clump of birches that have sprung up where a mother tree was cut down years ago. Lift your lantern a bit and look.”
Rob hastened to comply, and immediately remarked:
“Yes, I do see something dark on the ground. It moves. See, that must be his arm waving to us! We’ll be with you, my friend, in a jiffy now. It’s all right. We’ll soon have you in camp, safe and sound, whatever has happened to you!”
Rob was saying this out of the kindness of his heart. He realized that undoubtedly the other must have been in both physical and mental distress, or he would never have cried out as he had.
A minute later and they had drawn near enough for the strange truth to break upon them; and certainly it made both Andy and Rob stare as though they could hardly believe their eyes.
