The Outdoor Chums - Captain Quincy Allen
"Did they hurt you, Bluff?" asked Frank.
"Oh! well, they acted better than perhaps I had any reason to expect. We
mixed up some in the start, but they were too many for me."
"You mean the whole lot--well, I should guess yes. You had a sweet nerve
sauntering into that camp and taking them all on. Accused them of
stealing, too! Say, you don't know that they took your gun, do you?"
demanded Frank.
"N--no, perhaps not," admitted Bluff, hesitatingly.
"Just surmise like, isn't it?"
"But why that shower of stones if not to get us to run out of camp, so
that some one could sneak in and take a coveted article--and what more
natural than that my new repeater should be the thing they wanted?" said
Bluff, logically, as he believed.
"Well, until you have found some stronger evidence than that, I'd be a
little slow about accusing any of that crowd, eh, Jerry?" went on Frank.
"That's right," admitted Jerry, looking back just then as if he fancied
they might be followed, which, of course, was not the case.
"You didn't see any signs of the gun while there, did you?" asked Frank.
"No, I can't say I did; but then they wouldn't be likely to stick my own
property under my nose, would they? I could have them arrested later on
for robbery."
"All right. Suppose we let the subject rest for a while. The gun may turn
up again, sooner or later. I have heard of just such queer freaks
happening in camp. Now, who gets the first sight of our campfire, and
old Toby cooking a glorious supper?"
"Wow! I can do justice to it all right. They gave me something to eat,
but gracious, it was burned, and tasted horrible. Not one in that crowd
knows the first thing about camp cookery, and they scorch everything they
try," said Bluff, sighing.
"Just keep up a little while longer. There, isn't that the fire through
that bunch of trees ahead?"
"After all, you saw it yourself first, Frank. That's the fire all right.
Straight this way, boys, and we'll be there in a jiffy," said Will.
They hurried on.
"I'm looking to see good old Toby; but somehow don't seem able to clap my
eyes on his honest, black face," declared Bluff.
"That's a fact, where is he? The fire is burning decently, and from that
I judge he's around somewhere," remarked Frank.
"Well," broke in Will, "you know he acted as though afraid when we were
starting out. Said something about the big owls in the timber getting on
his nerves."
"And the varmints prowling around, waiting for a chance to eat him up. I
believe the coon is hiding in one of the tents, afraid to show himself.
How about that, Frank, is he such a coward" demanded Jerry.
The other laughed.
"Don't ask me," he replied, shaking his head; "it isn't quite fair to
give poor old Uncle Toby away like that But we're getting close to the
camp now, and, if he is around, I'll soon raise him like I did before."
"If he's let that supper burn, something is going to happen to a
respectable colored gentleman I know," threatened Bluff.
"Listen to him. Talk about your fighters, this Bluff takes the cake. Why,
not satisfied with trying to whip the entire Lasher crowd in a bunch, now
he wants to take on poor harmless old Uncle Toby Washington Low. Perhaps
after all, it's just as well such a blood-thirsty character has been
robbed of his little pump-gun. Why, he'd have cleaned out the whole woods
community, given half a chance," jeered Jerry.
"Come now, let that drop. I'm only joking, and you know it. I wouldn't
lay a single finger on old Toby's white wool for worlds. But where is he,
Frank?" said Bluff.
"Say, there's something in our camp, boys!" ejaculated Will, at
that moment.
"What's that?" asked Frank, his interest suddenly aroused.
"Well, I saw something moving there--look now, there it is again, over
just beside the nearer tent," whispered Will, in an awe-struck voice.
They all saw it now.
"Keeps moving all the time. Boys, it strikes me that it must be an animal
of some sort!" came from the experienced Frank.
"Goodness gracious! I hope it hasn't devoured poor old Toby,"
gasped Will.
"Well, make your mind up on that score, for it hasn't--_yet_! Just look
aloft a bit--right above where the thing is jumping about as if worrying
something. What do you see astraddle that limb, eh?" asked Frank,
triumphantly.
"Talk about your treed coons, why that's old Toby sitting up there, and
hanging on for dear life."
"And that object in the camp is, I believe, a wildcat, worrying over our
fine ham," remarked Frank, quietly raising the hammers of his shotgun.
CHAPTER XI
A NIGHT ALARM
"Oh! please don't shoot just yet; I'm nearly ready," exclaimed Will, who
had been fumbling with trembling fingers at his camera while they were
creeping closer.
"What do you want to do--shoot the cat with your machine?" whispered
Frank, the most accommodating fellow in the world.
"Yes, that's it. Don't you see, it would be the prize of the whole bunch?
Can't you let me give a flash, and shoot afterwards?" begged the ardent
photographer.
Frank could not refuse.
"It would be a dandy all right, with old Toby hanging there; but look
sharp, for the cat hears us whispering, and is ready to get out."
Hardly had he spoken before there came a brilliant flash.
"Got him!" shrieked the excited Will.
Then came a heavy report close to his ears, as Frank fired.
The flash had dazzled all but Frank, who managed to keep his eyes away
from it. He was thus enabled to catch sight of the startled wildcat
bounding for the shelter of the trees, having deserted its meal in
sudden fright.
As soon as he had fired, Frank threw his gun around so as to cover the
spot he expected the animal to occupy if by any chance it escaped the
full effect of his first charge.
But it jumped the other way, and might have vanished from view only that
Jerry fired from his hip, there being no time to aim from the shoulder.
"He's down!" shouted Bluff, as the fierce visitor in the camp rolled over
and over, clawing aimlessly as it expired.
Ready to shoot again if necessary, the two hunters cautiously advanced.
There was no need of further attention, for the wildcat stiffened out
under their eyes.
"Ginger! but ain't he a beaut?" exclaimed Bluff, bending over.
"I wonder if there happens to be a mate around?" said Jerry, as he bent
an anxious look toward the timber close at hand.
"They generally hunt in couples," admitted Frank; "but in this case I
hardly think it can be so, for the other would have come to the feast."
Uncle Toby came down from his perch rather dubiously, as if he feared
that the danger might not be all over.
"What happened to you, Uncle Toby?" asked Frank, giving the others a wink
not to joke the old fellow too seriously, for he was still trembling.
"Yuh see 'twar dis way, Marse Frank: dat cat he jest wanted de ham more'n
Unc Toby did, an' I naturally lets him hab it. He jumps down from de
tree, an' I feels a notion to elevate 'bout dat time. Don' know how I
gits up dar, but 'spect I done fly," explained the cook, as well as his
chattering teeth would permit.
"He means he aviated upward," grinned Jerry.
Will was patting his camera lovingly.
"Oh! I do hope it turns out fine," he said; "for that would be a jolly
hit. I'd rather snap off pictures like that than shoot a grizzly or a
bull moose. Me for the gentle life. I'm no butcher."
"Talk to me about that, will you? You're a sport all right, Will, only it
happens that your tastes run in a different direction from mine. Don't
knock my love of fair play, and I won't laugh at your wanting to snap off
every living thing you see, to make up a freak collection."
"All right, then, Jerry; consider it a bargain. I suppose you'll have
a muff made out of this nice fur for somebody?" continued Will,
stroking the cat.
"Haven't given it a thought. Besides, half of the honor belongs to
Frank."
"What's that? I made a mess of it, and the beast would have escaped if
you hadn't shot him on the jump?" exclaimed Frank.
"And if you hadn't wounded him how could I have ever had a chance to
shoot? You can't get out of it, old man; we'll share the honors,"
returned Jerry.
Frank said no more, but such generosity only drew him closer to his chum.
Fortunately the supper had not advanced far enough to be ruined. They
were able to save most of the ham, which was a comfort. Frank declared
that he wondered at the beast taking to smoked pork; he could not
remember any similar circumstance in all his hunting, and concluded that
possibly the wildcat must have been unusually hungry.
It had really been quite a strenuous day, and the boys were glad to
sit around the big fire and partake of the good supper which Uncle
Toby prepared.
Bluff had to relate his story again and again, but it differed little
from what he had already told.
"I made a silly fool of myself, I know now, and it was mighty fine in
you fellows coming to pull me out of the hole I dropped into. If that
Andy has got my beautiful gun in his camp, he's smart enough to keep it
under cover. I never had even a peep at it. But just wait. I'm going to
get that gun back if it takes all winter," declared Bluff.
"He'll do it too, just mark me," observed Frank, nodding to Jerry.
Apparently the other was tired of hearing about that same gun, for he
only smiled and shrugged his shoulders.
In the morning Jerry tried his hand at skinning the game. He had
taken particular pains to notice just how old Jesse Wilcox did this
sort of thing, and, being a clever imitator, he managed to succeed
after a fashion.
Frank meanwhile had made a frame suitable to the size of the skin, and
upon this the hairy pelt was stretched, care being taken to keep it in
the shade, and not near the heat of the fire, while drying.
Later on in the day Jerry and Frank took a stroll through the woods, and
managed to bring back three partridge and several gray squirrels. Frank
would not let Toby cook the latter as the other wished.
"They are always tough for frying unless parboiled first. After skinning
and cutting up I always put the pieces in a pot, and boil until tender;
then take them out, dry off, and put them in a hot pan in which several
pieces of salt pork have been first tried out. I think you'll say they're
all right when you get your teeth in them, fellows," he remarked.
And they did.
Will managed to take a few views during the middle of the day, prowling
in the neighborhood of the camp. There was a pretty stream not far away,
and it ran over rocks and between attractive banks, so that half a dozen
charming pictures presented themselves to the eyes of the artist.
The Fall had not advanced so far as to show signs of ice on the water,
though there were times when the air was very crisp and frosty.
Bluff had remained in camp pretty much all day. He seemed uneasy, and
passed in and out of the tents frequently as though wondering what could
have happened to bring about such a mysterious disappearance of his
beloved gun.
Sitting by the fire for a time, he would conceive some idea, and jumping
to his feet hurry into the woods to search a particular spot where he
remembered having passed over on that never-to-be-forgotten night.
Still, when the others returned in the afternoon there was the same look
of distress upon his face.
"Talk to me about a pagan and his idols," said Jerry, aside to Frank;
"Bluff has the whole show beaten. I never saw such a persistent
fellow, never."
"He'll never be happy till he gets it, Jerry," remarked the other.
"Then he deserves to have a bad time," declared Jerry, tossing the bunch
of game down before Will and Uncle Toby, who happened to be doing
something in common at the campfire.
That night they had a royal feast indeed. It tasted all the better
because the squirrels and partridge had fallen to their own guns, and not
been basely purchased in the market. And doubtless their surroundings had
considerable to do with the enjoyment of the dinner.
Will took advantage of the darkness to get a new roll of films in
his camera.
"How many have you cracked off," asked Jerry, noting his occupation.
"Three rolls, so far; about half I brought. I expect to be careful from
now on, and try to get choice subjects. But I know I'll never find
another to equal that wildcat scene. Oh! I hope it is a success!"
replied the enthusiastic photographer.
"So say we all," remarked Frank; "for it will chase the blues away many a
time, just to see the look on Uncle Toby's face, as he clung to that
friendly limb."
"Gorry, but I was mighty glad tuh git my claws on dat limb, Marse Frank.
Wen I seed dem big yaller eyes a-starin' at me, an' heerd dat yowlin'
noise, my knees dey jest wobbled together. Nevah could tell how I got up
dar; reckons as how you say am jest de truf, an' I _flew_!" exclaimed the
cook, able to laugh now at his adventure.
They turned in early, for their rest had been broken on the preceding
night, and both the hunters were leg weary.
The last sound Frank remembered hearing was the mournful hooting of the
owls. The birds seemed to have a favorite roosting-place not far away,
and from time to time the tremulous sound of their calling drifted
through space.
Just how long he slept Frank did not exactly know. He awoke with a
sneeze, and sat up, rubbing his eyes.
"What's the matter?" exclaimed Jerry, also starting out of a sound sleep.
"I don't know--why, the tent's full of smoke! The camp must be on fire!
Wake up, everybody!"
As the two lads came crawling out of the canvas they were startled to
discover a heavy pall of smoke rising all around them.
CHAPTER XII
THE TELL-TALE MATCH-SAFE
"Wake up! wake up!"
Both Frank and Jerry shouted at the top of their strong voices. The
others came tumbling into view, and loud were their expressions of dismay
at the terrible sight that met their eyes.
"Get busy here, every one! Water wanted, and never mind your clothes!"
Even while he was speaking Frank jumped into action. The night air struck
home, and made him shiver, for he had just tumbled out from between the
snug folds of his blanket; but this was a time when delay might mean the
complete wiping out of the camp.
Will gave a whoop and immediately vanished again inside the tent. He had
not gone to rescue any of his clothes, nor did he even think of getting
into them; but when he reappeared it was with his camera hugged tightly
in his arms.
Meanwhile the others had set to work with a vim. There was fortunately
no wind, so that the fire had burned sluggishly. Then again the late
storm had wet the dead leaves then on the ground, and they had not as yet
become thoroughly dry, so it took quite some time for them to get over
smouldering, and burst into a vigorous flame.
"We're getting it down, fellows; keep right along hitting it hard!"
called Frank, cheerily.
Even old Toby had appeared from under the fly where he slept. He had been
dreadfully scared at first, doubtless under the impression that the mate
to the dead bob-cat had invaded the camp, intent on revenge. This feeling
soon gave way to the desire to see the camp saved, and he labored
faithfully with the rest.
Scattering the smouldering leaves, beating out the fire with any sort of
thing they could snatch up in their excitement, they managed to get the
flames under control after a little while.
It had been a most exciting experience, however. Bluff was swinging his
blanket vigorously, and thrashing the fire with it effectively; though he
might later on have some difficulty in getting rid of the smudges that
this process necessarily produced.
"Victory!" shouted Jerry, when the last vestige of the fire had
gone under.
Bluff threw his blanket around his shoulders and strutted about with the
air of a conqueror;
"They have to get up early in the morning if they expect to beat us,'' he
said, proudly.
"Talk about your hot times, that was a scorcher!" cried Jerry.
"But I'm beginning to shiver now all right; and I advise every one to
crawl into his clothes in a hurry. Then we can talk it over. It's a
mighty suspicious thing, that's what," remarked Frank.
They were only too glad to take his advice, and shortly after the four
gathered around the revived campfire to exchange opinions.
They were a pretty smutty-looking crowd; but Jerry declared that those
marks were medals of honor.
"Now, if we had all been like Will here, and each rushed for his
possessions, the camp would have been a-goner," he remarked, with a
reproachful look.
"That's all right, fellows, and under any other conditions I would have
been one of the first to assist; but I'm the official photographer of the
expedition, and the guardian of those splendid films that must perpetuate
our camping trip, for posterity," he explained.
"Hear! hear!" cried Frank.
"Why didn't you lay the outfit down at a safe distance then, and help
fight the fire with us?" demanded Bluff.
"I guess I know enough to take warning from your sad experience. They
hooked your old gun; the next thing they'll be after will be my camera.
No, sir, I hang on to that business through thick and thin. They'll have
to chloroform me to get my films away, and that's so."
"Was it an accident?" asked Bluff, looking to Frank for an opinion.
"What do you think, Jerry?" demanded the leader.
"It couldn't have been an accident, and I'm dead sure of it," was
the reply.
"Suppose you state your reasons then."
"First, we banked the fire down as usual before crawling into bed. Then
there wasn't a particle of wind to scatter the sparks. And last, but not
least, those heaps of dead leaves were carried here! I happen to know
that place was just about bare last evening!" replied the other,
seriously.
Will uttered an exclamation of wonder and alarm.
"Do you really mean to say that some fellows would be mean enough to try
and burn our camp?" he asked.
"I wouldn't put it past that Andy Lasher. Talk to me about your heathen!
he's just about equal to any of 'em. But don't you agree with me, Frank?"
"Certainly I do, because I happen to have a strong bit of evidence which
I picked up out there close to the burning leaves."
He held something up.
"A match-box!" exclaimed Will.
"Do any of you own that?"
"Pass it around. I never saw it before," declared Jerry, as he handled
the little silver article in which several matches still remained.
"Well, I have, then," remarked Bluff, suddenly, as he stared at the
trophy; "and just as I thought, here are two initials on it."
"What are they?" asked Jerry, showing excitement.
"H.B."
"That doesn't cover any of Andy's crowd, though," said Jerry, seemingly
disappointed.
"The real owner of this match-box is Herman Bancroft," announced
Bluff; "I've had it in my hands more than once. You know I went with
him for a time."
"He wanted to join our Rod, Gun and Camera Club, but the black ball
dished his chances. Perhaps Herman was mad about that; perhaps he even
followed us up here, and has tried to get even," suggested Will.
"That's hard to believe, for he isn't the bad fellow some people say. A
little wild, but with a good heart. I'd rather believe he lost it, and
one of that crowd picked it up," said Bluff, sturdily.
"That's just like you, Bluff, standing up for a friend. Well, I'm rather
inclined to believe the same way. Anyhow, it was a mighty mean dodge. If
that Andy Lasher keeps on he'll get in a peck of trouble sooner or later.
Why, for such a thing as this he deserves a peppering of shot at a
distance," said Frank, indignantly.
"It was criminal, that's what. We might have been smothered in our beds,"
remarked Bluff.
"Or my camera might have been utterly destroyed," wailed Will.
Old Toby said nothing, but he cast many an anxious look around at the
adjacent trees, as if he had an idea lingering under his woolly pate that
in some way or other this new disaster might have a connection with the
shooting of the wildcat.
Things assumed a normal aspect after a while, and only for the scent of
burnt leaves no one would dream that the camp had come near destruction.
But all the inmates of Kamp Kill Kare slept, so to speak, "with one eye
open" during the balance of that night.
There was no further alarm.
By the time breakfast had been disposed of they could look the matter
calmly in the face, and it no longer appeared in such a terrible aspect
as when they were scampering around in their pajamas fighting the flames
and smoke.
The sun seemed unusually warm this morning, so Will declared that he
meant to tramp over to the lake and try a little fishing, since they
would have small opportunity to do any of this when the cold winds
came again.
"I'm on too," remarked Bluff, moodily; "a fellow without a gun is like a
fifth wheel to a wagon, useless in camp. Let's make up some lunch, for
it's a long tramp, and we won't come home until late."
Jerry announced that he wanted to go over and have a further talk with
Jesse Wilcox; after which he might take a tramp in a new region
advised by the old trapper as opening a possible chance for big
game--perhaps a deer.
Frank declared he would stick to the camp; with such vicious characters
around, he secretly thought it hardly safe for all of them to go away,
leaving old Toby as the sole guardian. They had too much at stake, since
their pleasure would be destroyed if the camp were raided successfully.
Reaching the lake Will spent much of his time taking views, while Bluff
set to work trying to entice the finny denizens of the water to bite
his lures.
As time went on he was fairly successful, and when they ate their lunch
he had quite a fair string of fish as the reward of his diligence.
Will proved to be a poor fisherman after all, especially when he had his
adored camera along, for he presently wandered off again.
"Don't go too far," warned Bluff, as he sat on the end of a log that
jutted out over the water a yard or more.
Engrossed with his sport, Bluff hardly noticed how time passed. Hearing a
step back of him, he called out:
"I got three more; what luck did you have, Will?"
He heard what sounded like a chuckling laugh back of him; and before he
could turn some one gave him a strong push. Bluff went over with a splash
into the lake.
CHAPTER XIII
THE COMING OF THE STORM
Bluff came up spluttering.
"Help! help!" he shouted, involuntarily, as well as a mouth half full of
water would permit.
But there was no one in sight. Whoever had shoved him into the lake had
mysteriously vanished, though a movement in the bushes told the direction
of his flight.
Recovering from the shock, Bluff found that he could clamber out without
much difficulty, and he hastened to do so.
His cries had been heard, however, for presently the sound of some one
running wildly came to his ears, and Will burst into view.
At sight of the dripping fisherman he broke into a shout.
"Caught a Tartar, did you, and he pulled you in? Oh! what wouldn't I have
just given to have been here? A snapshot of you going over would have
been the finest ever."
"Shut up! It wasn't a fish at all that yanked me overboard. Somebody
gave me a shove!" snapped Bluff, beginning to shiver, in spite of the
fact that the air seemed unusually warm, though the sun had disappeared
behind dark clouds.
"What! you were pushed in?" stammered Will; and he gathered up his camera
in his arms, casting a look of alarm around, as if afraid lest some
hideous form dart into view, bent on snatching it away.
"That's the truth. I was just sitting here when I heard a step. Thought
it was you, and asked how you had got on. Then the beggar laughed, gave
me a shove, and over I went, 'ker chunk.' I let out a yell when I came
up, for you see I didn't exactly know what he might mean to do,"
explained the dripping one.
"And I don't blame you a bit. But didn't you see him at all?"
"Never had a peep. He dodged back so that when I got the water out of my
eyes he was gone. I saw those bushes over there moving, and knew he ran
off that way."
Will walked over to the bushes, looking cautiously about, but
seeing no one.
"Sure you didn't--er--go to sleep out on that log, and dream somebody
gave you a push?" he queried, cautiously.
"Rats! I guess I ought to know. But see here, perhaps you can prove it,"
declared Bluff, indignantly.
"How?" demanded the other.
"Look down at your feet and see if he left any trail, that's how."
Will immediately did as he was told.
"Say, come here. There are tracks all right. Perhaps you're better up in
that sort of thing than I am. It was a human being after all, and no
dream," he called.
Bluff hastened to join him.
"Why, of course, just as I said. This is where he hurried away. You can
see the mark of his feet easy. And looky there, one shoe, the right, has
got a patch on it, a piece that runs to a point. Oh! I'd know that skunk
any time from that. It's a sure clue, I tell you," he exclaimed.
"But you'd better get dried off as soon as you can. Why, you're
shivering now."
"Got any matches; mine are all soaked?" said Bluff, his teeth
rattling together.
"I always carry a few. Yes, here they are. Let me make a quick fire,
while you jump around to warm up; and Bluff, _please_ keep your eye on my
camera, won't you?"