STEP HEN HAS VISIONS OF A FUR COAT.
Thad was already hastily inserting a fresh shell in the left chamber of
his little shotgun. He felt fully satisfied that he had done just what
Step Hen so vociferously proclaimed, knocked over one of the skulking
wolves; but there were more of the same breed around, and presently they
would get over the temporary fright caused by the flash of fire,
together with the heavy crash, when possibly they might show themselves
bolder than ever.
And like a true Boy Scout, Thad Brewster believed in always being
prepared. He had really taken that for his motto long before he thought
of joining a troop of the scouts; so that much of what he agreed to do
when signing the muster roll, lay directly in a line with his own ideas
of what a wide-awake boy should be.
"They backed off after that hot reception, Thad," Step Hen went on. "Oh!
I hope I'll get a chance to pop over just one of the sneaky beasts. I'd
like to say I'd shot a real wolf. Think of me, Step Hen Bingham, who up
to a year ago had never gone off camping or hunting, with a bear to my
credit, a buck actually knocked over, even if it was stole away from me;
and now, as the crowning event of all, I want to get a savage wolf, a
real Canada wolf."
"Oh!" said Thad, laughingly; "I don't know that they're different from
any other kind they have out on the plains; though perhaps they may be a
little larger, and ready to attack a man quicker. But perhaps you'd
better take the next good chance then, Step Hen."
"May I, Thad? That's kind of you. Suppose you give me pointers, then,
and tell me just when to blaze away. I want to make a dead sure thing of
it."
"Of the wolf, you mean, I guess," Thad went on, keeping a bright lookout
while he talked. "Well, watch that place where I got my fellow, and I
think you'll soon see something moving."
"You must mean the rest will be wanting to make a supper off the critter
you killed; is that it, Thad? Are they such cannibals as all that?"
asked Step Hen.
"Always said to be," the patrol leader returned, and then quickly added.
"Keep on the lookout, and if you see anything moving, tell me. Above all
don't waste ammunition by firing recklessly. We're not trying to scare
'em off by noise; every shot ought to count for a wolf."
They lapsed into silence for some little time, during which both boys
used their eyes to the best advantage. Several times Step Hen's
eagerness caused him to imagine he had caught a glimpse of a moving
object; but upon calling the attention of his more experienced comrade
to the spot, in every instance Thad had pronounced it a false alarm.
But in the end there came a time when Thad himself saw something move,
and as he watched more closely he made positive that it was another wolf
creeping up in the direction of the spot where his first victim probably
lay.
"Are you all ready, Step Hen?" he asked, quietly.
"Just try me, that's all," came the whispered reply, as the other scout
clutched his rifle nervously, and strained his eyes to see what had
caught the attention of his chum.
"Then watch that spot where my game kicked the bucket; one of his mates
is right now coming to drag the body away, to give it a wolf burial. See
him, Step Hen?"
"Yes, yes, and be sure and tell me just when to let him have it, Thad,"
replied the other, beginning to cover the indistinct moving figure with
his ready gun.
"Now, hold on for a bit," Thad cautioned. "I'm going to give the fire
here a kick that will make it spring up. Then, when you can be sure
you're getting a bead on the slinker, give him Hail Columbia. Watch out,
now, old fellow. It's going to be your only chance to bag a genuine wolf
from the Canada bush."
Just as Thad had said, the fire burned briskly after he had used the toe
of his boot to give it new life; and sure enough, Step Hen could see the
outlines of a long, dim figure that seemed to be hugging the ground. He
could even catch the odd gleam of the wicked yellow eyes that were
doubtless watching their every movement.
With the sharp report of his rifle there was another howl, this time of
pain.
"Did I get him, Thad?" cried the marksman, eagerly.
"You hit him, that's certain, because I saw him flop over," replied the
other; "and that yelp meant sudden pain, as sure as it stood for
anything. But he managed to get off, though possibly he will fall within
twenty feet."
"Oh! that's too bad, because his chums'll chew him all up, and I'll
never have my nice wolf-skin to get a coat made out of for winter,"
exclaimed Step Hen; and then, as he was seized by a new thought, he went
on: "But Thad, suppose I took a torch and went out there, d'ye think I'd
be apt to find him lying on his back? I'd like the worst kind to get
hold of him before the rest of the bunch muster up courage enough to
come back."
"Well, since you haven't even a load in your gun, that would be too
risky a game for you to play, Step Hen, and just for an old wolf-skin at
that. Perhaps we've given 'em such a bad scare now that the rest of the
pack may skip out, and leave us in peace. Then in the morning you'd find
your chap, all right."
"Listen! there's something crashing through the bushes right back of us,
Thad!" exclaimed Step Hen, a minute later, though his companion knew it
before he spoke. "Sounds like an elephant might be coming down on us;
but they don't have such animals up here in the Maine woods, do they?
Just hear the racket he keeps making Thad; whatever do you suppose we're
up against now?"
Thad laughed.
"That's a two-legged elephant, then, Step Hen," he remarked. "Fact is,
we're going to have company, for that's a man pushing through the brush,
and making all the noise he can, so as to scare the wolves away, and at
the same time keep us from firing on him." Then raising his voice, Thad
called out: "Hello, there!"
"Thet you, Thad?" came an answering call.
"Hurrah! it's Old Eli!" exclaimed Step Hen, readily recognizing the
voice of the guide. "This way, Eli; we're having a healthy old time
knocking over some of your Canada wolves. Each got one so far, but I
reckon the rest of the pack must a lit out when they heard you coming. I
see you now, Eli; and mighty glad you dropped in on us. Where did you
spring from anyway; don't tell me we're as near the camp as that."
Eli came up, with a wide grin on his face.
"Oh! camp about mile and a half down lake," he remarked, as he gravely
shook hands with each hunter in turn. "We saw light of fire over point,
and think it might be you boys; so I paddled canoe across here. It ain't
jest five minits walk 'cross this strip ter the lake. So ye got sum o'
the critters, did ye?"
"Thad, can't we look up that one I shot now; I'd just hate to lose him,
you know?" begged Step Hen.
"Why, I suppose it would be safe for all of us to go out," returned the
patrol leader. "Here, pick up something that will burn, and come along."
They found Thad's victim without any trouble, but the second one was not
within range of the light from their torches. But poor anxious Step Hen
begged so piteously to be allowed to extend the search "just a little
further," that Thad did not have the heart to say no. And a minute
later, after they had gone forward twice as far as Thad had at first
intended, Step Hen gave a gurgling cry.
"Looky there, Thad, what's that thing lying over yonder? Seems to me
mighty like a dead one. Yes, sir, that's what it is, as sure as I'm Step
Hen Bingham. Oh! how terrible he looks, even when stretched out there,
and gone up the flue. _My_ wolf, too. What a fine coat he's got,
and as gray as they make 'em. Say, won't I just cut a swell when I wear
that out in a sleigh with Sue Baker; and every time she rubs the sleeve
she'll say: 'And just to think that _you_ shot this savage old wolf
all by yourself, Step Hen; oh! what a brave fellow you are!'"
It was a second dead wolf, sure enough. The little repeating rifle had,
as usual, given a good account of itself, and the stricken beast had
only been able to drag himself a little distance away, before giving up.
Both animals were dragged over to the fires, and then Eli set to work
taking off the skins with a rapidity that told of long experience along
the trapping line.
"No use aluggin' these critters over ter the canoe, and then ter camp,"
Eli had announced. "Ther two skins'll make a purty good coat, I guess
naow. An' so ye gut a pack o' prime venison to tote home as well, hev
ye? Thet's good. My mouth's jes' made up fur a steak; an' the boys'll
feel tickled ter death when they sees yer."
Step Hen was a little nervous at leaving the fire zone, especially since
Eli and Thad insisted on putting out every spark before departing,
according to the law of the State; but then he managed to carry one
torch, and with that to serve them, they took up their line of march.
It was not so very far to the edge of the lake. Thad laughed, and said
the joke was on him; because, when they halted he really believed they
were a couple of miles away from water. If he had known the shore was so
near by he would have managed to coax the tired Step Hen to trudge on
just a little further, so as to camp with the water covering one side,
and bringing that much security; not to speak of the chances for
signaling to the home camp by means of the code which he and Allan, as
Boy Scouts, understood.
But it was all right now, and Step Hen felt quite merry over the chance
of being taken comfortably to the camp by means of the canoe.
Eli did the paddling, and the two weary lads just snuggled down in the
boat, feeling that they had had a great day of it, all told. The
presence of the venison, as well as the wolf-skins, would be positive
proof as to the reliability of their astonishing story; should there be
any skeptic around. And then Thad had the wonderful mushroomed bullet
that had killed that six-pronged buck; so that as they narrated the
first adventure that had come their way, they could produce evidence to
back up the story.
Their coming was greeted by more or less enthusiasm, although the boys
had evidently been coached by Allan not to be too vociferous, as they
were in a country where timid game abounded, and it was poor policy to
frighten away the quarry they had come so far to secure.
Step Hen forgot all his weariness as he found himself being shaken by
the hand again and again, while he and Thad told the tale of their day's
outing. It was nice to play the hero part once in a while, and more than
ever did Step Hen feel that life had become more worth living than ever,
since he joined the Cranford troop of Boy Scouts. But for that he would
never have discovered what splendid things there were to be met with in
the great forests; and the spirit of the hunter and the fisherman, which
had lain dormant in his nature, might never have been awakened.
And while the hour was rather late, all of the boys insisted on tasting
a small piece of the deer meat brought in by the two successful Nimrods.