THE LITTLE FIRE BOW DOES ITS WORK AT LAST.
"Oh! what is it, Giraffe?" exclaimed Bumpus, in a quavering voice.
"I _told_ you I c'd do it! On'y gimme time, and I'll figger the old
thing out, I said; _and I have_!" cried the exultant Giraffe.
"Why, it's burnin'!" gasped the other, staring at the tiny flame that
was playing hide-and-seek in the midst of the dry tinder that had so
long awaited its coming.
"Sure it is; anybody with one eye could see that!" Giraffe sent back,
about as happy a fellow as the sun ever shone on, because his long
endurance test had in the end met with such grand success. "Hey! what's
the matter, Bumpus? Get a move on, and collect some stuff to add to
this, before the thing goes out on me. Lively, boy, lively with you,
while I shield it with my hands!"
He hugged the little blaze with his body and hands while Bumpus,
dropping the now useless gun, eagerly gathered a lot of dry pine
needles, and made a pile of them close to his chum.
"Oh! glory! Bully for you, Giraffe! You're the scout who can stick to a
thing like a plaster. Don't it look good, though?" cried the shorter
lad; but the fire-maker would not let him loiter.
Presently there was no longer any dread of the fire burning out; and
both of the scouts could get busy collecting fuel. Dead branches were in
demand, and fortunately enough, there happened to be plenty of the same
close by, so that without much effort they were able to get quite a heap
near the fire.
"Now let's sit down, and warm up a bit," suggested Bumpus; although
truth to tell, he was at that moment perspiring from his recent
exertions.
"And if you want to talk about eating _now_, Bumpus, you're quite
welcome," the taller scout went on to say, with a grin; "because there's
something to it. We've got the birds, and we've got the fire to cook 'em
by. Who said I couldn't start a fire by sawin' at my fiddle till I burst
a blood vessel? Wasn't it Davy Jones? Well, you c'n just tell him for
me, next time you see him, Bumpus, that he was all wrong. Why, it's just
as easy as fallin' off a log; er, that is, after you know how."
"Shall we start in plucking the feathers off these birds, Giraffe?"
"Might as well, if we mean to eat 'em; and speakin' for my own feelings
I want to say that a partridge'd go mighty well about now. Yum! yum! get
busy with one, and I'll tackle the other."
Both boys knew how to do the job of plucking the birds, and soon had the
feathers flying.
Both of them were feeling a thousand per cent better than before; and
Bumpus even hummed as he worked. Giraffe's thoughts very naturally kept
along the line of his recent triumph. He had labored so long, and
against such a handicap, that he might well be excused for feeling proud
of his success.
"Good little bow!" he muttered; "you did the business, all right, didn't
you? The trouble was, I didn't just know how to handle you; but I've got
it down pat now, and I'll never forget again, never. Wonder what the
boys'll say when they hear about it? And Bumpus, it came in right pat,
didn't it?"
"I should say it did, Giraffe," replied the other, enthusiastically;
"when we didn't have a single match, night here, cold as the dickens,
wolves howling pretty soon, and no way of cooking these plump
partridges. Why, if you'd gone and arranged all the particulars, I don't
believe you could a had it hit us at a better time. It's just great,
that's what."
"And the cream is on you, Bumpus."
"Shucks! who cares for that? Why, a little while ago I'd given all the
spending money I expect to get as my share of the rewards for returnin'
those lost bank papers, for just one little penny box of matches. Why,
I'll be only too happy to treat the whole crowd six times over, after
this. There, my bird's done, Giraffe."
"Same here; and now how are we agoin' to cook 'em?" the other scout
remarked.
Bumpus looked at him rather blankly.
"That's so," he observed, "we ain't got a sign of a frying-pan, have
we?"
"But there must be a way of cooking 'em by keeping the birds close to
the fire. All old hunters cook their game that way. And don't you
remember, Bumpus, Thad and Step Hen took sticks, and stuck 'em in the
ground, with chunks of venison on the other end. Step said it was just
prime. Well, what's to hinder our trying that same old game?"
"But the partridges are too big and heavy; they won't ever cook
through?" objected the fat scout, doubtfully.
"All right; I guess now we can manage to slice the same in half,"
Giraffe continued, hopefully. "I've done the job for my folks at home,
more'n a few times, when they wanted to broil a Spring chicken for some
sick person. We'll have our game broiled, Bumpus, see?"
"Sure we will; and while you're about it, with that big-bladed knife of
yours, Giraffe, give mine a rip down the back, so I c'n split it open.
It's easy to see you know how. Thad and Allan ain't got so very much on
you, when it comes to doin' things."
By this artful flattery did Bumpus manage to get his bird divided. He
spread it out carefully, and then started a hunt for the long sticks, by
means of which the bird was to be held in a proper position before the
hot fire.
After considerable waste of energy, they finally managed, after a
fashion, to get the birds placed so that they received a fair portion of
the heat that came out of the fire. Several times the sticks either
broke, or else failed to hold properly, so that the game fell into the
ashes, to be hastily rescued, and wiped off before again being put over
the fire.
The minutes dragged, and to the hungry scouts it seemed as though the
two partridges had tantalized them long enough. They gave forth an odor
that was positively appetizing; and finally Giraffe just could not stand
it another minute.
"Say, they must be done by now," he remarked, eying his bird ravenously.
"They look pretty brown," remarked Bumpus, "though that may come from
the scorching they got each time they dipped in the red-hot ashes. But I
feel just like you do, Giraffe; and if you say the word, it's a go."
At that the tall scout started to savagely tear at one-half of his bird;
and not to be outdone the other boy copied his example. Perhaps at home
they would have complained long and loudly because the cook had sent
food to the table only half done; but then circumstances alter cases;
and sitting there by their lonely camp-fire under the pines and
hemlocks, those two boys munched away, and nodded toward each other in a
suggestive way, that told how much they were enjoying it.
What if the meat was far from being well cooked, did not those who knew
say that game should never be browned; and as for the gray ash that
still clung to the outside of each bird, why, the wood was sweet and
clean that it came from; and every fellow has to eat his peck of dirt
sometime or other, they understood.
And so they kept persistently at it until nothing but the bones remained
of the two partridges; and each boy was sighing because, like Alexander
of old, there were no more worlds to conquer.
"That was just prime!" declared Bumpus; "and to think that I shot the
dandy birds too; so you owe your fine supper to me, Giraffe."
"I do, eh?" chuckled the other. "How about the fire, tell me that? How'd
them same birds tasted raw? You wouldn't have liked 'em as much, I
reckon. So, you see, after all, Bumpus, honors are about even; you
supplied the game, and I fixed up the fire. Better call it a drawn
battle, and end it."
"All right, just as you say; but the only trouble I can see is they
wasn't near big enough to fit in with my capacity. There's a vacuum
still under my belt; even if I don't feel faint any longer."
"Oh! I guess we can hold out now till morning," said Giraffe. "Then
we'll take our bearings again, and make another start for the camp. And
p'raps some of them might just be out looking for us right now; and
seeing this bright fire, they'll head this way. So we'll act like we're
havin' the time of our lives; and don't you ever go and let on that we
felt scared even a little bit, hear now?"
Bumpus, having a little pride of his own, readily promised. Besides, now
that they had partaken of a very good supper, and had that bright and
cheery fire to keep them company during the remainder of the cold night,
things looked vastly different; so that it was hard to believe he had
ever shivered and groaned as he contemplated their forlorn condition.
They sat there, talking about various things, for quite a little time.
Once or twice Bumpus fancied he heard some sort of sound in the woods
that caused him to send a quick glance toward where he had laid his
"trusty Marlin" down; but then, as Giraffe did not seem to pay any
attention to the noise, he soon forgot it.
But there came a time when both of them plainly heard a cough.
Giraffe grinned, and nodded his head.
"The boys are comin' all right," he said, as if pleased; "just like I
said they'd be apt to do. Now, just sit where you are, Bumpus, and make
out to be as happy as a king. We'll make 'em believe we're quite at home
at this sort of thing; and the only thing we're sorry for is that we
can't offer 'em a nice hot bird apiece. Look pleasant, now."
Presently they caught what sounded like the low murmur of voices, and
they seemed to be approaching too. It did not occur to the two scouts
that the parties were coming from a direction opposite to the camp where
their chums had been left; partly because they had not the remotest idea
where that same camp lay.
Now they could hear the swishing of bushes, as though the newcomers were
not very particular about how they walked. Then it must be Step Hen or
Davy Jones who made all the noise, because they were greenhorns, and did
not know how to walk noiselessly.
"I c'n see 'em comin'," remarked Bumpus, who happened to be sitting in a
position that allowed of his using his eyes.
"Remember, now, what I told you; just be feelin' as fine as silk, as if
this camp business was an old story with us," and to further the
deception Giraffe started to stretch his arms, and yawn at a tremendous
rate.
Bumpus did not answer; and thinking this a little strange the tall scout
turned his eyes that way. He discovered that Bumpus was staring as
though his eyes would almost pop out of his head. That, of course, made
Giraffe twist his long neck half way around, so that he might share in
what had aroused his companion to such a state of excitement.
And Giraffe also experienced a decided thrill when he saw two men come
half staggering into camp, who from their looks he knew must be Si Kedge
and Ed Harkness, the rough and lawless game poachers and bullies of the
pine woods.