CHAPTER XII

THE TELL-TALE MATCH-SAFE

"Wake up! wake up!"

Both Frank and Jerry shouted at the top of their strong voices. The

others came tumbling into view, and loud were their expressions of dismay

at the terrible sight that met their eyes.

"Get busy here, every one! Water wanted, and never mind your clothes!"

Even while he was speaking Frank jumped into action. The night air struck

home, and made him shiver, for he had just tumbled out from between the

snug folds of his blanket; but this was a time when delay might mean the

complete wiping out of the camp.

Will gave a whoop and immediately vanished again inside the tent. He had

not gone to rescue any of his clothes, nor did he even think of getting

into them; but when he reappeared it was with his camera hugged tightly

in his arms.

Meanwhile the others had set to work with a vim. There was fortunately

no wind, so that the fire had burned sluggishly. Then again the late

storm had wet the dead leaves then on the ground, and they had not as yet

become thoroughly dry, so it took quite some time for them to get over

smouldering, and burst into a vigorous flame.

"We're getting it down, fellows; keep right along hitting it hard!"

called Frank, cheerily.

Even old Toby had appeared from under the fly where he slept. He had been

dreadfully scared at first, doubtless under the impression that the mate

to the dead bob-cat had invaded the camp, intent on revenge. This feeling

soon gave way to the desire to see the camp saved, and he labored

faithfully with the rest.

Scattering the smouldering leaves, beating out the fire with any sort of

thing they could snatch up in their excitement, they managed to get the

flames under control after a little while.

It had been a most exciting experience, however. Bluff was swinging his

blanket vigorously, and thrashing the fire with it effectively; though he

might later on have some difficulty in getting rid of the smudges that

this process necessarily produced.

"Victory!" shouted Jerry, when the last vestige of the fire had

gone under.

Bluff threw his blanket around his shoulders and strutted about with the

air of a conqueror;

"They have to get up early in the morning if they expect to beat us,'' he

said, proudly.

"Talk about your hot times, that was a scorcher!" cried Jerry.

"But I'm beginning to shiver now all right; and I advise every one to

crawl into his clothes in a hurry. Then we can talk it over. It's a

mighty suspicious thing, that's what," remarked Frank.

They were only too glad to take his advice, and shortly after the four

gathered around the revived campfire to exchange opinions.

They were a pretty smutty-looking crowd; but Jerry declared that those

marks were medals of honor.

"Now, if we had all been like Will here, and each rushed for his

possessions, the camp would have been a-goner," he remarked, with a

reproachful look.

"That's all right, fellows, and under any other conditions I would have

been one of the first to assist; but I'm the official photographer of the

expedition, and the guardian of those splendid films that must perpetuate

our camping trip, for posterity," he explained.

"Hear! hear!" cried Frank.

"Why didn't you lay the outfit down at a safe distance then, and help

fight the fire with us?" demanded Bluff.

"I guess I know enough to take warning from your sad experience. They

hooked your old gun; the next thing they'll be after will be my camera.

No, sir, I hang on to that business through thick and thin. They'll have

to chloroform me to get my films away, and that's so."

"Was it an accident?" asked Bluff, looking to Frank for an opinion.

"What do you think, Jerry?" demanded the leader.

"It couldn't have been an accident, and I'm dead sure of it," was

the reply.

"Suppose you state your reasons then."

"First, we banked the fire down as usual before crawling into bed. Then

there wasn't a particle of wind to scatter the sparks. And last, but not

least, those heaps of dead leaves were carried here! I happen to know

that place was just about bare last evening!" replied the other,

seriously.

Will uttered an exclamation of wonder and alarm.

"Do you really mean to say that some fellows would be mean enough to try

and burn our camp?" he asked.

"I wouldn't put it past that Andy Lasher. Talk to me about your heathen!

he's just about equal to any of 'em. But don't you agree with me, Frank?"

"Certainly I do, because I happen to have a strong bit of evidence which

I picked up out there close to the burning leaves."

He held something up.

"A match-box!" exclaimed Will.

"Do any of you own that?"

"Pass it around. I never saw it before," declared Jerry, as he handled

the little silver article in which several matches still remained.

"Well, I have, then," remarked Bluff, suddenly, as he stared at the

trophy; "and just as I thought, here are two initials on it."

"What are they?" asked Jerry, showing excitement.

"H.B."

"That doesn't cover any of Andy's crowd, though," said Jerry, seemingly

disappointed.

"The real owner of this match-box is Herman Bancroft," announced

Bluff; "I've had it in my hands more than once. You know I went with

him for a time."

"He wanted to join our Rod, Gun and Camera Club, but the black ball

dished his chances. Perhaps Herman was mad about that; perhaps he even

followed us up here, and has tried to get even," suggested Will.

"That's hard to believe, for he isn't the bad fellow some people say. A

little wild, but with a good heart. I'd rather believe he lost it, and

one of that crowd picked it up," said Bluff, sturdily.

"That's just like you, Bluff, standing up for a friend. Well, I'm rather

inclined to believe the same way. Anyhow, it was a mighty mean dodge. If

that Andy Lasher keeps on he'll get in a peck of trouble sooner or later.

Why, for such a thing as this he deserves a peppering of shot at a

distance," said Frank, indignantly.

"It was criminal, that's what. We might have been smothered in our beds,"

remarked Bluff.

"Or my camera might have been utterly destroyed," wailed Will.

Old Toby said nothing, but he cast many an anxious look around at the

adjacent trees, as if he had an idea lingering under his woolly pate that

in some way or other this new disaster might have a connection with the

shooting of the wildcat.

Things assumed a normal aspect after a while, and only for the scent of

burnt leaves no one would dream that the camp had come near destruction.

But all the inmates of Kamp Kill Kare slept, so to speak, "with one eye

open" during the balance of that night.

There was no further alarm.

By the time breakfast had been disposed of they could look the matter

calmly in the face, and it no longer appeared in such a terrible aspect

as when they were scampering around in their pajamas fighting the flames

and smoke.

The sun seemed unusually warm this morning, so Will declared that he

meant to tramp over to the lake and try a little fishing, since they

would have small opportunity to do any of this when the cold winds

came again.

"I'm on too," remarked Bluff, moodily; "a fellow without a gun is like a

fifth wheel to a wagon, useless in camp. Let's make up some lunch, for

it's a long tramp, and we won't come home until late."

Jerry announced that he wanted to go over and have a further talk with

Jesse Wilcox; after which he might take a tramp in a new region

advised by the old trapper as opening a possible chance for big

game--perhaps a deer.

Frank declared he would stick to the camp; with such vicious characters

around, he secretly thought it hardly safe for all of them to go away,

leaving old Toby as the sole guardian. They had too much at stake, since

their pleasure would be destroyed if the camp were raided successfully.

Reaching the lake Will spent much of his time taking views, while Bluff

set to work trying to entice the finny denizens of the water to bite

his lures.

As time went on he was fairly successful, and when they ate their lunch

he had quite a fair string of fish as the reward of his diligence.

Will proved to be a poor fisherman after all, especially when he had his

adored camera along, for he presently wandered off again.

"Don't go too far," warned Bluff, as he sat on the end of a log that

jutted out over the water a yard or more.

Engrossed with his sport, Bluff hardly noticed how time passed. Hearing a

step back of him, he called out:

"I got three more; what luck did you have, Will?"

He heard what sounded like a chuckling laugh back of him; and before he

could turn some one gave him a strong push. Bluff went over with a splash

into the lake.

The Outdoor Chums; Or, The First Tour of the Rod, Gun and Camera Club · 第 12 / 25 章