THE FIRE CIRCLE.
"That's me, all right, Thad; I'll have a spark going the quickest ever,
if that old wind only holds up a bit. Here's aplenty of loose stuff, to
begin with, that I can kick together. Wait till I stick my torch in this
crotch of the tree. Just as well to have some light to work by," and as
he kept up this running fire of talk, Step Hen was busying himself right
swiftly.
For the moment he forgot all his aches and pains, and worked like a
Trojan; indeed, no defender of ancient Troy ever had more urgent reason
for getting things going than Step Hen thought he did just at that
minute.
He used his feet and hands to gather the loose pine needles in a heap;
and when he thought he had things fixed to suit him, the next business
that engaged his attention was getting the pile to take fire. After that
Step Hen said he would be "on Easy Street."
All this while the night wind had been moaning and whistling through the
tops of the tall pines, making a mournful kind of music, calculated to
add to the uneasiness caused by the savage howls of the hungry wolves
from the north. But Step Hen had learned a lesson while lighting his
torch, and knew that the wind came in gusts, with short intervals
between. By waiting a few seconds after it had started to blow at quite
a lively rate, he was able to find a lull; and making the most of his
opportunity, he hastily struck his match, and applied it to the dry
stuff he had made sure to keep underneath.
But after all he came very near spoiling it; for just at that very
second there was a loud howl, so close at hand that Step Hen was
impelled to look over his shoulder, under the impression that the wolf
pack was even then about to overwhelm him while he bent down, almost
defenseless, above the pile of dry stuff.
"It's all right; don't worry!" exclaimed Thad, who was standing guard,
with his faithful Marlin gripped tight in his hands; and any wolf that
attempted to try conclusions with that reliable little gun would surely
regret his temerity.
The flame managed to catch before the wind could come back again to blow
it out; and once the connection had been made, the draught only served
to make the fire burn the better.
"There, that's done; and now what?" asked Step Hen, whirling around to
pick up his own weapon, under the belief that he would feel easier in
his mind if in a position to defend himself.
"We've got to extend the fire belt, and make several more like the one
you've got going," replied Thad, laying his gun down, so that he might
busy himself. "Here are plenty of branches, and all sorts of good
burning stuff. If only Giraffe were with us now, wouldn't he be in his
glory, though?"
"Well," said Step Hen, slowly; "he might; and again, perhaps Giraffe
don't like wolves any better than I do. And he gets so rattled too,
whenever he's nervous. I try to take things as cool as anything. What's
the use getting excited, when it ain't agoin' to help a single bit. And
I know you'll say the same, eh, Thad?"
"You never spoke truer words, Step Hen," replied the scoutmaster,
gravely; and yet secretly he was shaking with laughter, because
everybody knew that Step Hen was the worst offender in that line the
patrol boasted; so that it seemed almost as "good as a circus," Thad
afterwards declared, to hear him talk in this way.
They worked diligently, and soon managed to not only extend the fire so
as to take in three more points, and thus completely surround the spot
where they had dumped the packs of venison; but to secure quite a supply
of fuel besides, with which to feed the flames from time to time.
"Now what?" again demanded Step Hen, when he saw that his companion
meant to call a halt upon these proceedings.
"Supper is the next thing on the programme," observed Thad. "I feel just
like enjoying some of that same venison. It will not only make us feel
stronger, but considerably lighten our loads when we take a notion to go
on again."
"Count me in on that deal; because, honest Injun now, I'm that empty my
stomach feels like it wanted to shake hands with my backbone. Say, this
must be a real hunter's feast, Thad. I never went through such an
experience as this before. And just listen to the nerve of them rascals,
ahowlin' themselves hoarse, just because we object to sharing our grub
pile with 'em. D'ye suppose, now, we'll have to knock over a few of the
pesky varmints, as old Eli calls 'em."
"I wouldn't be one bit surprised," replied Thad; and the other noticed
that he did not move in the least without making sure that his gun was
within reach; from which it was evident that Thad had no intention of
being caught unprepared, should the hungry wolves make a sudden dash.
Of course Step Hen was next to totally ignorant as to how to cook meat
without the frying-pan to which he had been accustomed. And he watched
just how Thad did it, closely imitating him.
Taking a stout and fairly long sliver of wood, a small piece of the meat
was secured to one end, after which the other point was thrust into the
ground in such a position that the meat came pretty near a place where
the embers burned red, and glowed invitingly. Presently the heat began
to make the meat sizzle, and then it slowly cooked, turning a delightful
brown color, and sending out odors that made the boys fairly shiver with
eagerness to start eating.
When one piece was considered done, it was quickly eaten by a hungry
hunter, and its place taken with a fresh supply.
So the good work went on. Both boys were ravenously hungry, and only
small bits could be cooked this way at a time, so that it was pretty
much a whole hour before they had fully satisfied their clamorous
appetites. And although the meal had been eaten under the strangest
conditions of any which he could remember, Step Hen was ready to declare
he had enjoyed it immensely.
"But they're gettin' madder and madder all the while, just because we
didn't send 'em an invite to our little feast!" declared Step Hen. "Just
listen to the critters yawp, would you, Thad? They're buttin' in closer
and closer, a foot at a time. And honest now, I reckon there must be all
the way from half a dozen to ten thousand of 'em around us."
"That's a pretty good and safe range," laughed the patrol leader; "and I
guess you've covered the ground, all right. There are surely half a
dozen of 'em, and how many more I wouldn't like to say, because I don't
know just how much noise one old wolf can kick up. But don't they sing
sweetly, though? Shall we be generous, and throw them out the balance of
the venison, to show them how we like their song?"
"Well, I should say, not any," returned Step Hen, after giving his
companion a quick glance, as if to see whether he really meant it, or
was only joking. "We had too much hard work getting our supply to throw
it to the dogs. Let the lazy curs run along, and find some for
themselves. Besides, it's too good to think of wasting it. I want the
rest of the fellers to taste _our_ venison. Mine went glimmering,
and I hope it half choked that villainous crowd. Anyway you vowed it was
a whole lot tougher than this haunch; and there's that comfort."
But it was evident that if the hungry animals around heard this decision
they refused to pay any attention to it; for instead of decreasing, the
howls actually became louder and more insistent, until finally Thad
picked up his gun.
"I begin to see that we're going to have a little target practice after
all, Step Hen," he remarked, quietly. "When things get so bad that you
can see the skulking beasts creeping about your camp, and even catch the
glitter of their yellow eyes, it's nearly time to begin to bowl a few of
them over, so as to inform the rest that we've got a dead line marked
around here."
"You don't say?" answered Step Hen, in an awed tone; "show me one, Thad,
please. I'd just like to say I'd seen a wolf, really and truly, for once
in my life, outside of a menagerie or a circus."
"All right, then," replied the other; "just follow the line of my
finger, and I give you my word that skulking thing in the shadows is a
real genuine, Canada wolf. I'm going to prove it to you in a minute or
two, by taking a crack at him."
"Oh! now there's two of 'em, Thad, crossing each other's trail. And see
there, if that ain't a third, and even a fourth. Why, I believe the
woods are full of 'em!"
"You're about right," replied the patrol leader, more seriously than
before, the alarmed Step Hen thought. "Here, let's throw a few blazing
brands around, to scare 'em off some, while we lift the bundles up among
the branches of this tree. Then, if anything should force us to take
refuge there, at any rate we wouldn't have to listen to the plaguey
things chewing at our grub."
This was accordingly done. When the burning bits of wood were hurled out
toward them, the wolves temporarily retreated; but Thad knew full well
they would soon crowd back, drawn by the scent of the fresh meat; and
besides, he did not like to take the chances of setting the woods afire;
just after he, and the balance of the Silver Fox Patrol, had accepted
this new test of their abilities in the line of doing a good act as fire
wardens.
The two packages of venison were easily hoisted into the tree, Step Hen
readily climbing up himself in order to lift them still higher; so that
by no possibility could a leaping wolf manage to get his teeth in either
bundle.
Step Hen came down again a little unwillingly, Thad saw. It must have
seemed good and safe up there, so far removed from the fangs of the
encircling wolves; but after the fires had burned completely out, it
would prove a pretty cold perch; and for one the young scoutmaster did
not yearn to try it, unless every other resort failed them.
"Now watch what happens!" remarked Thad, as the other joined him again,
gun in hand; "and remember, only shoot if you have to. I'll hold one
barrel in reserve all the time. After I shoot you'll see me get a new
shell in the chamber as quick as I can work it. Be ready, now; and watch
sharp!"
No need to tell Step Hen that. He was already keyed up to top-notch
condition by the excitement that caused his nerves to quiver, and his
breath to come in gasps. And yet, if any one had accused the boy of
being afraid, he would have at once indignantly denied the imputation.
Perhaps he was holding himself sternly in hand; Thad hoped as much; but
then some persons have a queer way of showing that they are cool and
collected. Step Hen was one, for instance; but if all of us could
realize just how we look to our neighbors, we might not feel quite so
proud.
Thad had his gun ready for quick work. He only waited until he could
glimpse one of those skulking, shadowy forms on the outside border of
the light cast by the fire circle. Then he glanced along the barrels of
his gun, though instinct enabled him to cover the target better than all
this aiming; after which his finger pressed the trigger.
The boom of the gun was instantly succeeded by a series of alarming
howls; and then Step Hen was heard shouting exultantly:
"You got him then, Thad! I saw him turn a back somersault. He's a dead
one, all right, I tell you, whoop!"