A CAMP OF TRAMPS.
It was evidently high time to be getting home, and the boy started back
in the direction he had just come. He was certain that it was the right
direction, and yet the trees and bushes kept getting thicker and
thicker, and he missed the open glades through which he had been
strolling. This was clearly the wrong track; and, facing directly about,
he now attempted to retrace his latest course.
It was rapidly growing dark; strange night sounds were beginning to be
heard in the forest, and a great dread began to clutch at the boy’s
heart. Was he really lost, as the Babes in the Wood had been, and would
he die there, and be covered with leaves, so that even his body could
not be found, and nobody would ever know what had become of him?
He began to call aloud; but only the forest echoes mocked him, and the
night birds answered him with harsh cries. At length it was too dark to
even try and walk any farther. The little fellow, frightened and weary,
sank down at the foot of a great tree, that seemed to lean over him with
an air of protection and sympathy.
He would not cry. Uncle Phin had said that none of the Dales ever cried
after they were grown up, and he was a Dale, almost grown up. Two or
three big tears rolled silently down his cheeks; but then that was
something that might happen to almost anybody, at any time. It could not
be counted as crying.
As he sat there in the darkness, trying to be brave because he was a
Dale, the sound of a peculiar, long-drawn, far-away cry, caused him
involuntarily to look around; though, of course, he did not expect to
see anything through the darkness. He did see something, though, and it
was a light. It was not a bright, clear light; but a dim glow, just
visible between the tree trunks, and evidently at quite a distance from
where he sat.
The boy’s spirits rose with a bound. He dashed away the stealthy tear
drops, and sprang to his feet. Things were coming out all right after
all; for a light meant people, who, according to simple-hearted little
Arthur’s experience of the world, would be kind to him. They would
probably invite him to stay to supper, and show him the way to the Ark
afterwards. Then he would ask them to help him and Uncle Phin get the
boat afloat, and his becoming lost would turn out to be the very best
kind of a thing that could have happened after all.
While these thoughts passed through his mind, the boy was making his
way, as rapidly as possible, through the woods in the direction of the
light, that grew brighter and more distinct with each step. He still
carried his precious book in one hand, and the great bunch of flowers
that he had gathered, in the other. Suddenly he came to an abrupt pause
on the edge of a shallow ravine, through which laughed and tumbled a
small brook. The sides of the ravine were quite steep, and, almost at
his feet, the boy saw a sight that filled him with amazement.
About a glowing fire, occupying all sorts of easy positions, were
grouped a number of men and one boy. They were ragged, dirty, and
unshaven. Their clothes were made up of odds and ends. Some of them were
smoking short black pipes; some were talking loudly; and others lay
perfectly still, as though asleep. Two of the number seemed to be
preparing supper; for they were at work about the fire, and were
evidently anxious regarding the contents of some tin cans, and several
battered kettles. At a short distance from the fire were two or three
rude huts of poles and branches.
Although Arthur did not know it at the time, this was a tramps’ camp, to
which all these vagrants of society, who happened to be prowling about
that part of the country, flocked when night overtook them. Sometimes
one or more, who were tired of tramping, and who had begged or stolen a
stock of provisions, would remain here for several days, so that, from
early spring until quite late in the autumn, the camp was never without
a greater or less number of occupants.
Now, although Arthur had never had any practical experience with tramps,
except to gaze curiously, from a respectful distance, at the few
specimens he had seen, he instinctively shrank from making his presence
known to the rough-looking fellows gathered beneath him. It was pleasant
to see the cheerful firelight, to hear the sound of voices, and to know
that there were other human beings besides himself in that dark forest.
It would also be very pleasant to the hungry boy if he could have some
supper. Still, to venture down among those men might prove very
unpleasant. So Arthur wisely decided to bear his hunger as best he
might, and study them from a safe distance, at least for a while longer.
All at once, from some part of the camp beyond the circle of firelight,
came the same melancholy long-drawn cry that had first directed the
boy’s attention to this place, and he now recognized it as the howl of a
dog in distress.
At the sound, the largest and most powerful of all the tramps, who had
been lying motionless stretched at full length on the ground, sprang up,
and in a fierce voice exclaimed:
“You Kid, fetch that pup here! we’ll see if we can’t give him something
to ki-yi for, or else we’ll stop his infernal yelp entirely.”
The one boy of the camp, who answered to the name of “Kid,” and was a
tough-looking young rascal, larger and apparently a year or two older
than Arthur, hastened to obey this command. He disappeared, and in a
minute returned dragging after him, by means of a bit of rope about its
neck that was evidently choking it, a dog. As the bright firelight fell
full upon the animal, Arthur was amazed to recognize it as the very one
that had been presented to him by the Chapmans the day before. There
could be no doubt of it; for there were the same erect sharp-pointed
ears, the same white-tipped little tail, and the same brindled markings.
It was indeed poor Rusty; and Arthur’s heart ached to see him in so
wretched a plight. How could he have come there? What were they about to
do with him? This last question was quickly answered.
The big tramp took the rope from the lad’s hand, at the same time
bidding him go and cut a hickory switch. “See that it’s a good one too,”
he added.
This command was obeyed as the other had been, and in a few minutes the
switch was ready.
“Now whale him while I hold him,” ordered the big tramp, savagely.
“We’ll give him a chance to do all his howling at once, and then we’ll
have some peace for the rest of the night. Lay it on solid, and if you
kill him, so much the better.”
Arthur’s blood boiled at these words. How could anybody be so cruel?
Would the boy dare beat _his_ dog?
The heavy switch was uplifted and brought down with vicious force on the
animal’s back. The dog uttered a sharp cry of pain and terror.
Again was the switch lifted; but before it could descend it was snatched
from the boy’s hand and flung away; while he was confronted by a sturdy
young figure with blazing eyes. “How dare you strike my dog?” cried
Arthur, in a voice that choked and trembled with anger. “He is mine! My
very own! And I won’t have him hurt. I won’t, I say.”
The other boy stared at this one in open-mouthed amazement, while the
tramps, who had been startled by the sight of the strange little figure,
as it dashed into their camp from the dark forest, now gathered about
the two to see the fun.
“Well, my bantam,” said the big tramp to Arthur, “I don’t know who you
are, nor where you come from; but you talk pretty big about _your_ dog.
Kid here says it’s his dog, and I reckon you’ll have to settle it
between you. Can you fight?”
“I don’t want to fight,” replied Arthur, looking the big tramp bravely
in the face.
“Oh, well then, it’s the Kid’s dog, and he’ll do as he pleases with him.
Kid, give the cur a kick.”
The boy lifted his foot but again Arthur sprang in front of him. “You
sha’n’t kick him, even if I have to fight you to make you stop it!” he
cried. Then he clenched his fists, and his face grew very pale.
“That’s right, sonny!” said the big tramp, approvingly. “I’ll back you
and hold your picture-book and nosegay. Take off your jacket like a
little man. Now, fellers, form a ring and give the bantams a fair show.”