SCOTCH BLOOD
AMONG other things, Lil Artha had seen to it that a pot of coffee was
made ready just before he scattered the fire, and put out the last
ember. This would keep warm for a long time, and they could manage to
make out a supper with some of the things that would not need cooking.
With a rush and a roar the storm burst upon them. Wildly did the stout
tent sway as the wind broke against it. Rufus understood speedily enough
why the scout comrades who had had experience went to so much extra
pains to fasten it so securely. There were lots of times when, despite
all the precautions, he feared the canvas could never hold out against
that terrible wind that made playthings of forest monarchs, and seemed
capable of sweeping everything from its path.
Never, so long as they lived, would the two tenderfoot scouts forget
that night; it would always be marked with a white stone in their minds,
such were the tortures they endured. Often Rufus would half squirm to
his knees, his face turned pale with apprehension, as he clutched the
sleeve of Elmer or Lil Artha's coat, in deadly fear that the worst was
about to happen.
The rain descended in torrents, and the lightning flashed in a way to
fairly cause them to shut their blinded eyes; while terrific bursts of
thunder rocked the ground and made them think a salvo from the heaviest
guns known to modern warfare was being fired.
So the time dragged wearily along, hour after hour. No one dreamed of
trying to snatch a wink of sleep while this din was going on. They sat
there, glad to know that, thanks to the admirable way in which the heavy
canvas had been waterproofed, and the addition of a fly over the tent,
they were able to keep the rain out. Of course a small amount did seep
under certain portions of the tent, despite all their precautions, and
the drain that had been dug above to carry the flood off; but they were
able to keep pretty dry, all things considered.
With the storm came a cool air that chilled them to the bone. They had a
couple of lanterns, one of which was kept lighted all the time, and this
enabled them to see what was going on. Lil Artha set a good example,
after night came on, by wrapping his warm blanket about his shoulders,
as he sat there Indian fashion. Rufus was indeed glad to copy this
example, and found it well worth while for the additional comfort he
secured thereby; and in the end all of them did the same thing.
Every now and then they heard awe-inspiring sounds that Lil Artha told
the tenderfeet were produced by falling trees. Each crash gave Rufus
cause for a fresh shiver; he could not help thinking of what he had
proposed concerning their being likely to find more safety if they took
up their station under the forest growth. He was glad now in every atom
of his being that those more experienced scouts had frowned down upon
such a silly proposition.
Along about midnight, however, Elmer discovered positive signs that the
worst was over. His announcement brought a feeling of relief to Rufus
and Alec; indeed, even Lil Artha was heard to give expression to his
gratitude. George, however, grumbled, as was his habit of old.
"Tough luck, that's what I call it, fellows," he went on, as though
wholly disgusted with the freaks of the weather. "Why couldn't this old
storm have held off till we got back home again? What business did it
have coming down on us right in the midst of our camping? Why, we
haven't begun to enjoy ourselves much yet; it's been all work so far;
and now everything's going to be soaking wet, the mud'll bother us, and
like as not a second rain'll follow the first. Things pretty nearly
always do happen in threes, you notice."
"Oh! well, we're all alive, George, for one thing," Lil Artha told the
grumbler. "And we've still got heaps and heaps of good stuff to eat
along. Things might have been a whole lot worse than this, let me tell
you."
"Huh! I can't just see that," continued the other, though in a fainter
tone, as if really half ashamed of his complaining manner; which had
become second nature with George, so that he often spoke in that way
without thinking how badly it sounded.
"If only this terrible storm will stop, all would be forgiven," said
Rufus. "We may get a few winks of sleep yet before dawn comes. And I
guess the ground will dry up pretty well by noon. Besides, I'm done
creeping through the woods and among the thickets, trying to follow
those slashes made by the fake surveyors. We can lie around camp here,
until it's fit to go abroad."
"Spoken like a true scout, Rufus," Elmer told him, encouragingly.
"That's what a fellow ought to learn the first thing after he dons the
khaki--that things are never so bad but what they might be worse. George
here never did learn his lesson in the right way, more's the pity. If
you keep on, Rufus, you'll be a better specimen of a true scout than
George is today, with all his experience."
George did not say anything, but Elmer hoped the seed might have fallen
on fallow ground, so that it would take root and grow; for there were
times when, like most of the other fellows in the Hickory Ridge Troop,
he did get mightily tired of hearing the remarks of a natural-born
"croaker," as Lil Artha called the other.
But Elmer was right when he said the backbone of the storm had been
broken. Inside of another half hour even Rufus was fain to admit that
the thunder had lost considerable of its fierceness, while even the
flashes of lightning came less frequently, nor were they so vivid as
before.
"The rain has stopped, fellows!" announced Lil Artha, as he sidled along
over to one side of the tent, and cautiously began to undo the securely
fastened flap; after which he thrust his head out so as to take an
observation.
When he drew back again the others eagerly awaited his report.
"Why, the clouds are breaking, and I even saw a star right overhead,"
announced the tall member of the little party, enthusiastically; "which
proves that the end of the concert is close by. That last thunder-clap
was some distance away. Guess we may be getting a little snooze inside
of another half hour. For one I'm going to hunt out a dry place and make
ready."
There was considerable of a scurry on the part of everybody, with this
end in view. Rufus was heard to wish most ardently that he had still
another blanket to huddle under, for that night air, after the violent
battle of the elements, seemed to be very chilly and piercing, since
they could not enjoy the luxury of a fire.
Nevertheless, in spite of all this, when another hour had crept along
all of the boys were sound asleep. No longer did the harsh voice of the
thunder disturb them; and the fitful glow of lightning came from far
off. The lantern had been extinguished, for they might need what small
allowance of kerosene they had fetched along with them; and therefore
darkness reigned within the sheltering tent.
They had some hours of sleep before morning found them stirring. There
was more or less disinclination to be the first out, but Lil Artha
proved to be the martyr and presently the crackle of a fire tempted
Rufus and Alec forth; while even that sly old fox, George, opened one
eye, and began to sniff the air, as though he fancied he had gotten the
first whiff of sweet bacon frying in the pan.
Elmer had been close upon the heels of Lil Artha, of course, and between
the two of them some of the ravages of the storm in the camp had been
repaired long before the rest put in an appearance.
A warm and bountiful breakfast seemed to put new animation in them all.
Even that born grumbler, George, admitted the sun did shine "fairly
well," and that coffee, bacon and flapjacks with syrup, all served
lavishly as regarded quantity, made life worth living again.
"I don't believe I was ever so hungry as this morning," Rufus candidly
declared, as he gulped down his third cup of coffee, and eyed the last
flapjack as if tempted to gorge himself, though already as full as
prudence dictated.
"That's because so far in life you've lived on Easy Street," Lil Artha
told him, "and never have known what it meant to miss a single meal.
Some of us have gone a day without a bite, and we know how it goes on an
empty stomach. I warrant you right now some woods animals are feeling
that way too, because they couldn't get around last night as usual."
It was strange that this casual remark on the part of Lil Artha should
be fully confirmed before a great while had passed, and in a most
convincing fashion.
Alec chanced to be the one fated to bring the thing about. None of them
meant to wander away from camp until noon had come, and the warm sun had
had a chance to dry things out; but being a little restless, and,
moreover, inspired with a desire to ascertain if any of those ill-fated
trees had fallen close to the camp, he picked up a heavy walking stick
and stepped out.
"Be sure you don't go farther than you can hear Lil Artha chopping with
the ax," cautioned Elmer, seeing him about to take a stroll; "and if you
fail to catch any sound, or need help, just give a whoop. We'll answer
right away."
"Hoot, mon," said the Scotch lad, a bit sarcastically, "d'ye ken I've
cut me eye-teeth the while as a scout? I'm observing all aboot me, and
I find it mair interesting than I ever believed could be possible. I'm
o'er glad now I made up my mind to join the troop. Now I'll gang awa'
and be verra careful. And if some fearsome beastie jumps up in front o'
me ye'll hear me shout at the tap o' my voice."
He went away, still laughing, as though he thought it a good joke. Lil
Artha continued to ply his ax industriously, meaning to lay by a good
store of firewood while at the job; though Elmer warned him that task
should really fall to the greenhorns, since neither of them seemed to be
much of a cook, and it was only fair the various duties about the camp
should be impartially shared alike by all the party.
Hardly had ten minutes passed when the four by the fire heard a shout.
Elmer instantly answered it, thinking, of course, that as Lil Artha had
dropped his ax Alec wanted some sound to serve as a guide to locating
the camp. To the astonishment, and also consternation of the others,
they heard the Scotch lad calling:
"Here's a hungry cat facing me, and growling like everything. Aye, but
he's wild to get at me, and I don't know just what a braw scout should
do under the circumstances. Shall I gi'e the gillie a rap o'er the head
wi' me stick; or beat a retreat like a wise general? I'm no' so taken
wi' his looks I confess that I'm wishin' to make his further
acquaintance. Hey; ye would bite me, eh? Tak' that, then, and learn
better manners!"
Elmer snatched up another stick, while Lil Artha darted over to the tent
and immediately reappeared bearing his trusty Marlin. They knew what it
meant to be attacked by an angry bobcat, even if it was far in the
morning, and these animals usually hide during the better part of the
day, preferring the shades of night for their prowling.
Even as the pair started toward the spot, followed in turn by George and
Rufus, as soon as the others could manage to find some sort of crude
weapon, they heard a most terrific crashing going on. There were also
short cries, now of pain and again of momentary triumph, to tell how
Alec was progressing in his task of beating off the savage attack of the
hungry wildcat.
There was no trouble in locating the spot where all this disturbance was
taking place; the scuffling of Alec's feet, his jerky cries, and now and
then a plainly heard snarl from the enraged cat led them as truly as the
magnetic needle of the mariner's compass points out the North Star.
When they finally came in sight of the little woods drama they were
thrilled to see how the brave Scotch lad managed to keep his four-footed
enemy at bay by means of his clever strokes with his stick. Even as they
looked he gave the beast a good blow upon the head that rolled it over;
but instantly the cat was on its feet once more, and leaping at him.
The performance was repeated, with the same result; but in case Alec
failed in his stroke, he stood a good chance of having the animal land
on his breast, when its claws and teeth would do terrible damage.
"Get the beast, Lil Artha!" cried Elmer, seeing that even their bursting
on the scene did not appear to intimidate the enraged feline adversary
that Alec was battling with.
He had hardly given the word than a report sounded. Lil Artha had once
been quite a smart hunter, though of late his ambition to excel along
those lines had waned. On this occasion his aim was particularly true,
for the cat was seen to be writhing on the ground, as though fatally
injured. Lil Artha immediately ran up and dispatched the dying beast
with several blows from a stone; for although a hunter by instinct, Lil
Artha could not be cruel and see anything needlessly suffer.
"I sure hated to have to do it the worst kind," he told Elmer, as he
looked down at the now quiet beast, ferocious even in death, "because I
reckon now she's got kits somewhere near by, which was what made her act
so savage like. She smelled the food in camp, and was sneaking around in
hopes of stealing something, when Alec, he chanced to run across her,
and I guess waved his stick in a way she didn't just like. But I had to
shoot her, and you thought the same, Elmer, you know."
"Yes, it couldn't be helped," the scout-master told him, "and besides, a
fellow need hardly ever be ashamed of making way with a wildcat, because
they are mighty destructive to all game. Why, this one beast would, in
the course of a year, devour more young partridges, quail, rabbits and
squirrels than half a dozen human hunters. And besides, I was afraid she
might get inside Alec's guard, though he did swing that stick of his in
great fashion."
"A few scratches is all the beastie managed to gi'e me," admitted the
still panting Alec, and then, as he looked down on his now quiet
adversary, he shook his head, continuing: "faith I tauld ye to tak
yersil' awa' and leave me alone, but ye knew best. I'm awfu' sorry ye
had to be kilt, but it was no fault o' mine."
Elmer and Lil Artha exchanged satisfied glances. They both felt that for
a tenderfoot, Alec had proven a credit to the troop, and this was
encouraging. After all, this outing seemed bound to be the making of a
couple of embryo scouts; it would bring out whatever good qualities they
possessed, and show what sort of foundation there might be for their
immediate future.
"Come back to camp with me right away, Alec," Elmer told the other, who
was still curiously examining the dead cat, especially interested in
its savage looking claws and the cruel teeth that were exposed in the
snarl that death had set upon its face. "I want to take a look at those
same little scratches you mention. They may appear harmless enough, but
many a fine hunter has died from such simple things."
Of course Alec was astounded. He stared hard at his hands, and shook his
head in a skeptical way.
"I ha'e nae doot but that ye knaw best, Elmer," he finally said, "but
would ye tell me the noo how such a wee bit o' scratches could mean so
much?"
"Blood poisoning is apt to set in," explained the other, readily enough,
as he locked arms with the Scotch lad and hurried him off toward the
camp. "You see, carnivorous animals that live upon the flesh of their
prey are apt to have their claws contaminated. Even a slight abrasion
caused by those claws is impregnated with just so much danger. Nothing
might come of it; but scouts believe in taking as little chances as
possible. I've got a phial of permanganate of potash along for just such
purposes, and we'll daub some of it on. You'll resemble a wild Indian
with the splotches, for it stains a deep purple, but safety first before
looks."
Indeed, Alec did look rather odd after his several slight injuries had
been duly attended to, for Elmer did not spare the "painting."
"I wish me mither could see me the noo," chuckled the Scotch boy, after
he had surveyed his mottled appearance in a tiny hand mirror one of them
had been thoughtful enough to fetch along. "Ye ken, she's often tauld me
aboot the Highland chiefs in their war-paint in the gude auld days of
lang syne. I warran ye she'd think her son and heir had copied after the
McGregor, Rob Roy, ye remimber, our outlaw ancestor."
Lil Artha was to fetch along the defunct wildcat, for it was designed to
save the skin, and present it, when properly tanned, to Alec, who could
use it in his den at home for a small mat. Every time he looked down at
it he must be forcibly reminded of his stirring adventure, and it would
serve to encourage him in his endeavor to become a first-class scout.
It was perhaps half an hour afterwards that Elmer heard voices, and
looking toward the spot where Lil Artha had been working with the pelt
of the bobcat, he was both surprised and thrilled to discover that the
long-legged scout was talking with a small party in whom Elmer
immediately recognized Conrad Shock!