LOST IN THE BIG WOODS
Tad Butler had often heard it said that a lost man was an insane man.
He had laughed at this as he had laughed at the stories of men who
have been lost for no longer than twenty-four hours, and who had come
out gibbering idiots. Now for the first time the Pony Rider Boy
began to realize what it meant to be lost. That feeling of utter
isolation, of aloneness, of doubt whether they ever would find their
way out, took possession of him and for the moment a panic threatened
Tad Butler.
Then he recalled the advice given by Cale Vaughn: "If you get lost
sit down and think it over. Don't run."
Tad _was_ thinking it over. At last he said:
"Stacy, we got on the wrong trail somewhere. I have an idea it was
not long after leaving town."
Chunky nodded his head slowly.
A strange feature of the situation impressed itself upon Tad at this
particular juncture. He was unable to tell his position from the
sun. He could not have told whether the sun was in the East, West,
North or South, and his compass proved absolutely useless. He was
interrupted in his thoughts by the voice of Stacy Brown.
"We haven't enough grub for more than one more meal."
"We may have to rustle," added Tad, "but I have confidence enough in
myself to believe that we shall not starve to death."
Having recovered his mental balance, Tad decided that it was time to
do something, so he took careful note of the lay of the land about
him, the character of the trees and shrubs, the drainage, and other
features that might prove of use to him later on.
His next task was to blaze a tree. He made a conspicuous blaze on
four sides of a large pine, a blaze that might be seen for some
distance in either direction.
"Why are you doing that?" questioned the fat boy.
"We shall know it when we see it again. Furthermore, it will be of
use to any person who may chance to be looking for us. I am going to
stick like a brother to that blazed tree until I find a better place.
Unpack and help me make camp."
Chunky got down slowly. He was much less disturbed than Tad would
have expected.
"I will make a lean-to while you are getting the camp in shape.
Wait!" Tad's voice was sharp, causing Stacy to halt suddenly. "I
hear water. There is a stream near here. Yes, there it is.
Hurrah!"
"I don't see anything in a little stream of water to get excited
about," declared the fat boy.
"I do. It means there is a larger body of water somewhere
hereabouts. You take the ponies and follow me. I am going to blaze
a way down that stream for a piece anyway and see where it leads. We
can't be any worse off farther down than we are here, and perhaps we
may be able to better ourselves materially."
Tad, hatchet in hand, started for the creek. He turned downstream
after satisfying himself which was downstream, followed slowly by
Stacy. Butler blazed the way, turning down bushes, marking trees
with conspicuous chops clear through the bark to the white of the
wood itself, so that there might be no difficulty in finding their
way back in case they desired to do so. To Tad's satisfaction they
soon came out on the shore of a lake, or rather a pond it was in
size. This pond gave them an open space, taking away in a measure
that shut-in feeling that had so oppressed them under the tall pines.
"Here is the place for the camp, Stacy," announced Tad joyously.
"What better could a man ask for a summer resort?"
"No, this isn't so bad," admitted the fat boy. "Where do you want the
camp?"
"In a little way from the shore. We might as well make it permanent,
for we may be here some time."
In the meantime Tad was industriously chopping away, cutting down
small trees for the lean-to. A busy two hours followed. Stacy got
the browse together for the beds. Tad chopped down a larger tree for
the bed pieces of their fireplace, and, by the time they had finished,
the day was drawing to a close. They had not finished any too soon,
but they had constructed as neat and practical a camp as ever grew
under the skilled hands of an old woodsman. Tad was justly proud of
their efforts.
Supper was not a bounteous meal and neither lad overloaded his
stomach, but the boys were cheerful and the ponies content, for there
was plenty for the animals to eat. Tad had gotten in a great pile of
poles for night-wood, so that they were pretty well supplied with
everything except food.
Chunky dropped asleep on his browse bed under the comforting warmth
of the fire soon after supper, in fact before Tad had finished with
the supper work, which was not very arduous, the boys having only a
few tin dishes that hung suspended from their saddles. They had
their rifles, revolvers and hunting knives, all of which might prove
useful in their present predicament.
Tad sat down by the fire to think. He sat long, going over all the
possibilities of their case, figuring on the probabilities of their
being found. Tad knew that Cale Vaughn would never rest until he had
found them, once the guide knew that the two boys were lost, so
Butler decided that his wisest course would be to remain where he
was, skirmish for food, and try to content himself and his comrade
until help arrived.
A crashing sound brought him to his feet. The sound was unlike any
he had ever heard before. Tad's first impulse was to run, then,
pulling himself sharply together, he stood listening.
"Oh, pshaw, it's a big tree falling," he muttered.
The ponies, too, had been startled. They were snorting and stamping.
Tad's voice quieted them.
"If this thing keeps on I am sure to have an attack of nerves. I am
ashamed of myself--Great Scott, what is that?"
"Oh, wow!" howled Chunky, leaping from his browse bed, standing
wide-eyed at the opening of the lean-to. "What was that?"
"I--I don't know," stammered Tad. "I--I never heard so many crazy
sounds in all my life. I have heard that a night in the jungle was
terrifying, but I don't believe it can be any worse than this."
"There it goes again," cried Chunky.
"Ugh-ugh-ugh, oo-oo-oo--o-o-o-o!"
The forest seemed to be full of the "ugh-oos." The Pony Rider Boys
gazed into each other's faces. Stacy Brown's teeth were chattering.
Again that terrifying roar.
"Wha--what is it?" gasped Chunky.
"I--I don't know," whispered Tad. "I--I never heard the like of it.
It is getting nearer, too."
Tad snatched up his rifle.
"Get ready for trouble, Chunky," shouted the freckle-faced boy, the
freckles standing out in blotches on his face, the latter now pale
but resolute.