LEFT IN THE LURCH
"You don't say so, Ted?" sang out Paul.
He knew that he was facing trouble, and that in an instant as it were,
the conditions had entirely changed. From being the pursuer he now found
himself with the shoe on the other foot. All the same, Paul was not at
all daunted. He had encountered these fellows too many times in the past
to fear them now.
It was a question whether Monkey had intentionally led him into a set
trap, or his coming upon the balance of the crowd might be looked on as
an accident. Paul, remembering how the other had called out, under the
impression that the one chasing after him might be his chief, had his
own opinion.
But this was no time for thinking it over. He could hear sounds as
though several fellows were pushing forward, spreading out as if to try
and surround him. Plainly then, he had better be moving, unless he cared
to let the Slavin crowd get hold of him.
Paul sprang away. He knew about how the ground lay. Catch as bright a
chap as this young scout rushing wildly through the open woods without
getting some idea as to the direction in which he was heading. He turned
back over the course he had so lately covered.
"He's gone, Ted!" whooped a voice; but it was not that of Monkey
Eggleston; for that worthy was hardly in possession of enough breath to
more than whisper.
"After him then, every feller! We oughter get him after such a bully
chance. Go it for all you're worth, d'ye hear, Scissors, Bud, and Pete!"
But as for himself, Ted did not do much running. What was the use, when
he had followers able and willing to obey the crook of his little
finger? Besides, Ted knew what it meant to bang up against a tree in the
dark, and knock the skin off one's nose. As long as the sound of pursuit
could be plainly heard he continued to bellow out his orders, as though
hoping to spur his followers on to success.
Paul had little fear. Once again his keen sight was apt to play him a
good turn; for he could avoid contact with obstacles that caught the
others napping. He even laughed more than once when he heard a crash,
and accompanying groans, from some point in his rear.
"Good boy!" Paul said to himself, when the voice of Scissors was heard,
lamenting the fact that a young chestnut seemed to have a harder
surface than his forehead boasted; "just keep on some more, and you'll
be the worst banged-up bunch Stanhope ever knew," and he could not keep
from chuckling again as in his imagination he saw the sorry picture of
the three pursuers when they returned to hand in their report, with a
list of their bruises.
Evidently the hot pursuit must have come to an end with that last
collision on the part of Scissors. Paul, listening, could hear voices,
as though the boys were condoling with one another; but there was no
longer the sound of footsteps.
After that there was no need of haste, and having figured out just where
he was, Paul presently found the road. Of course all he had to do now
was to walk along this, and in another minute he caught sight of a
bright light ahead.
He knew the boys must have started the several fires that had been laid
for an emergency. They were doubtless more or less worried about his
continued absence; but did not know which way to start the search.
So Paul, to relieve their anxiety, sent out a call that would reach
their ears and tell them that he was coming. And presently he walked up
to the fire, where he was immediately surrounded by the excited scouts,
all clamoring to know what he had discovered.
"First tell me what Monkey Eggleston threw into the fire, that made such
a flash," Paul insisted, turning to Wallace.
The other held something up. It seemed to be a tin box, with a string
attached.
"What's all this?" asked Paul, and then, as he took it in his hands, he
gave a cry of astonishment, adding: "why, I declare, if it doesn't look
a little like one of those bombs you read about. And this is supposed to
be the fuse, isn't it? Well, those fellows are getting along pretty
swiftly when they try to blow up our supplies."
Of course the "bomb" was not such a dreadful affair. True enough, the
tin box contained quite a quantity of powder, but it was a question as
to whether the explosion would have done very much damage, even had it
occurred.
No doubt it might have scattered things somewhat, and possibly a fire
would have resulted, unless prompt measures were taken to stamp the
sparks underfoot. What astonished the young scout leader, however, was
the strange method of introducing the fake bomb among the supplies, and
leading the end of the slow match to the smouldering fire.
"What won't they try next?" said Jack, looking serious, as he took the
contrivance once more in his hands.
"Goodness knows," remarked Wallace; "but tell us about your adventure,
Paul. We heard an awful shouting in the woods over yonder, and some of
the boys wanted to start out hunting for you, but the racket stopped
just then. Besides, Jack said that he believed you were getting the best
of it."
"Do you know why I said that?" interrupted Jack; "well, you see, I knew
it was those fellows doing the hollering, and they sounded as if they
were mad; so I made up my mind they wouldn't yelp _that_ way if they had
their hands on Paul."
"Which was clever reasoning, Jack," declared his chum, instantly. "You
had your wits about you that time. I'm glad the whole camp didn't take
to rushing through the woods, chasing a jack-o'-lantern. What a jolly
time we'd have had rounding up the bunch again. Now, sit down, and I'll
tell you just what happened."
It was laughable to see how the eyes of some of the scouts seemed to
almost stick out of their heads when they listened to how Paul first
discovered the moving object up in the big oak. They turned their heads,
and looked up eagerly, as though half expecting to see another
monkey-like form hanging from a limb.
So the story was soon told. Many were the exclamations of wonder after
the end had been reached. A multitude of questions poured in on Paul;
but he shook his head, saying:
"Keep those for to-morrow, fellows. What we want now is to repair our
fences, and get some sleep. But you can see how important it is that
every scout placed on guard keep his eyes and ears open, ready to give
warning in case the enemy try their tricks on us."
He did not reproach the two boys who had been on duty at the time he and
Wallace held forth, though strongly suspecting that they must have been
asleep. But what he said caused more than one cheek to flush; and
doubtless a number of lads inwardly resolved that from henceforth they
would never, never allow themselves to slacken their vigilance when on
post.
Nothing more was heard from the Slavin crowd on that night. Paul could
easily guess why; for in imagination he saw the faces of Monkey
Eggleston, Scissors, Bud and possibly several others, decorated with
strips of court plaster, intended to hide the results of their
tree-hugging adventures.
He only hoped that the lesson would be taken to heart, and cause those
trouble-makers to avoid the camps of the scouts in the future; but
knowing the nature of both Ted and Ward, he did not have much
expectation that way.
Bobolink had them all up at dawn with the reveille call upon his beloved
bugle. This never left his side, and some of the boys jokingly declared
that he cuddled it in his arms while he slept, for fear lest some
prank-loving scout hide it away, just to tease him.
The cooks got busy, and presently there was a delicious odor of coffee
around that region, together with that of frying bacon.
William was master of ceremonies when it came time to start operations
looking to a supply of flapjacks. He had willing imitators in the cooks
of the other two patrols; and while they may not have met with the same
glorious success that attended his own efforts, the results were so
pleasing to the still hungry scouts that every scrap of batter prepared
was used up. Even then there were lamentations because of a shortage in
the supply of pancakes.
There was no hurry to get off. Paul was too wise a commander to spoil
the pleasure of his comrades by unseemly haste, with so much time before
them.
About nine o'clock the command started forth, with Bluff's drum beating
time, and the inspiring notes of the bugle lending vigor to their eager
feet. By noon some of those who had seemed most chipper at the beginning
of the day's tramp were limping more or less, though still full of grit,
and a determination not to lag behind.
The country was getting very wild now. Occasionally they began to have
glimpses of the upper Bushkill, when the forest opened more or less.
Later on the road was likely to skirt the river, they understood, when
conditions would be prime for possibly a swim, or some fishing, which
latter, they imagined must be good so far away from town.
They were still taking it easy after eating a lunch that possibly
cleaned up every scrap of the goodies prepared by fond mothers and
sisters; when Paul, who was sitting talking to Jack, noticed a vehicle
coming swiftly along the road.
Whoever occupied the rig seemed to be in somewhat of a hurry, for he was
every now and then whipping the horse, which showed signs of fatigue, as
though it had come quite some ways.
As the man drove past he raised his head to look with a frown in the
direction of the scout encampment. Paul did not like his appearance at
all. Indeed, he was of the opinion that the man might even have stolen
the rig somewhere; for he acted as though anxious to get away.
But his bewilderment increased when he saw Joe Clausin suddenly jump to
his feet and stare after the departing stranger, his face turning very
white.
"Oh! it's him, it's him!" Paul plainly heard him exclaim.