THE TROUBLES OF BUMPUS.
With the splash the three guides looked up from their task at the fire,
and then turned toward each other with grins. These boys were a lively
lot, and kept things moving all the time; but already had the guides come
to like them more than a little. But if one of the lads chose to go in
swimming with his clothes on, of course it was none of their business. So
they did not run to the rescue.
“Wow! gimme a hand, somebody!” spluttered poor Bumpus, as his head came
up, and he sent out a little Niagara of water that he had started to
swallow in his excitement.
Bumpus could swim, and there was not the least danger of his drowning; so
none of the other boys manifested a frantic desire to help him. Indeed,
Giraffe even showed himself heartless enough to give vent to a hearty
laugh; while Davy Jones immediately called out:
“Bumpus, you never said a truer word in your whole life; that _was_ a
stunt worth two of mine. When it comes to doing _real_ things, with the
splash to ’em, I’m a back number compared with you. Oh! you Bumpus!”
Seeing that no one was going to do more than extend a paddle toward him,
the indignant fat boy started to paddle ashore; where he crawled out of
the water, looking like a half drowned rat, as Step Hen took occasion to
tell him.
But as the fire was out, and the air rather chilly, although in the
middle of a glorious fall day, wise Thad knew that the boys stood a
chance of getting cold unless he quickly changed his clothes.
“Here, Giraffe, overhaul his clothes bag, and get out his extra duds,”
the scoutmaster remarked, in a tone of authority, which the elongated boy
understood permitted of no nonsense; so he condescended to act as valet
for the unfortunate Bumpus, selecting the garments he was to wear, and
offering some of his own in case the other did not have a complete
assortment.
As Giraffe was as tall and skinny as Bumpus was fat and rotund, it would
have been an utter impossibility for the latter to have worn anything
belonging to his fellow voyager, even had he needed assistance.
Fortunately he had plenty for a complete change, and a sweater which Thad
insisted he should draw on over the shirt, gave promise of preventing any
serious result from the ducking.
“Wasted just twenty minutes, all on account of Bumpus’s vaulting
ambition,” remarked Step Hen, when they were finally ready to make a
fresh start.
“Vaulting ambition is good,” observed Davy Jones, with a wink at Allan,
who sat near him in the second canoe. “Now, d’ye know, I’ve tried that
stunt many a time, but I never yet was able to get one-half the fun out
of it that Bumpus did the first shot. No use talking, he can see me, and
go one better. I’ll have to take in my sign, and retire from business,
boys.”
“Anyway,” grunted the object of all this side talk, and there was a
twinkle in his eye as he looked at Davy; “I made the biggest splash you
ever heard; all of you have just got to admit that.”
“You certainly did, Bumpus,” said Thad; “but I’d advise you to be a
little more careful after this how you try to copy Davy Jones. To tell
the honest truth, though I don’t want to hurt your feelings, Bumpus, but,
you see, you’re hardly built for doing most of the things he shows off
in. If it was Giraffee here, instead, he might have a look-in.”
“But Giraffe, he’s just a little too smart to get caught trying; he cut
his eye teeth some time ago;” remarked that individual. “But I give you
all warning that from now on I am going to try some of those different
ways of making fires without using a single match. I’ve got a burning
glass along; then there’s my fine flint and steel, like our forefathers
owned in the good old pioneer days; and last but not least, I’d just bent
on using a bow and a stick in the manner they say the South Sea islanders
do. You wait and see me show you something.”
Thad moved a little uneasily at hearing this. Truth to tell, he had had
considerable trouble with the tall scout in times past, on account of
this very failing, which was once more coming to the surface.
Giraffe seemed to be a regular fire worshipper. It was a subject that
went away ahead of all others in his mind. Indeed, there were some of his
mates who declared that the long-legged scout had really joined the
patrol in order to find chances to indulge in his favorite pursuit, which
was to see the flames creep upward, snapping and glowing. Giraffe, having
started a blaze, would sit there and gaze into the heart of the fire,
just as though he could discover the most wonderful things there.
As a rule, he occupied much of his spare time when in camp whittling; and
if asked what he was doing, would reply that possibly they might want to
start a fresh fire later on, and he was getting the tinder ready.
His folks had had more or less trouble with him at home on this same
account; as on three separate occasions the fire department had been
called on a run to save the Stedham home, when the boy, in pursuing his
investigations, had endangered it.
And now, it seemed that his latest fad was to try every kind of known
method for bringing about a flame without the use of a match. No wonder
Thad felt uneasy. He knew about the stringent laws of Maine with regard
to setting the woods afire; and with such a reckless lad loose among the
pines it would be necessary for some one to keep control over Giraffe
pretty much all the time.
The afternoon began to wane as they pushed on up the current of the
river. The guides had informed the boys that there was still a short time
when trout could be legally taken, as the fishing season overlapped the
hunting term a week or two. And hence a couple of jointed rods had been
brought along, with the idea of making use of them. A platter of
deliciously browned trout was a dish that appealed to the appetites of
these boys tremendously, and right now Thad was keeping Allan on the
lookout for a tempting spot, where it seemed likely they might gather in
a mess of the speckled beauties.
All at once Bumpus was seen to half rise from his seat in the bottom of
the canoe in which he had a place. Thad noticed that the fat boy seemed
strangely moved, as though distressed over something.
“What ails you, Bumpus?” he asked. “I hope you don’t feel the effect of
your bath. This sun has been fairly warm, and by now you ought to be
feeling all right, especially after doing your share of paddling for an
hour or so.”
“’Tain’t that,” said Bumpus, weakly; “but I guess I ought to turn around,
and go back, fellers.”
“Sure,” cried Step Hen, “go right over the end of the canoe; the walking
on the water is fine, Bumpus.”
But Thad saw that the other was really distressed about something that
had suddenly come into his mind.
“Why should you go back, Bumpus, when you know well enough it’s out of
the question?” he demanded. “Have you forgotten something? Thought we
left all that to Step Hen here, who’s forever losing his possessions?”
“That’s right, I did forget, Thad,” replied the other, with a forlorn
look on his face, that would have made the scoutmaster laugh, only that
he realized Bumpus was suffering mentally.
“Forget what, Bumpus?” asked Giraffe.
“I’ll tell you, fellers,” continued the fat boy, with a sigh that seemed
to come from the very depths of his heart. “Just before I started off on
this glorious trip with you my father handed me a letter which he said he
wanted me to take right away to Mr. Harriman, the cashier of the Cranford
Bank, as it was _very_ important that he should have it before noon that
day. I was just trying to remember whether I did go there and give it to
him or not; and d’ye know, for the life of me I just can’t make sure of
it.”
“That’s funny!” exclaimed Giraffe. “Ain’t you able to recollect seeing
the gentleman, or anything he said to you?”
The other shook his head sadly.
“That’s the queer part of it,” he declared. “Sometimes it comes to me
that I must have done it, and I think I see it all plain before me. Then
it gets mixed, and I’m not so sure. You see, here’s what bothers me. That
same morning I met a friend who was going about ten miles off in his
dad’s machine, and he asked me to have a spin with him. Just couldn’t
resist, boys, and we did go licketty-split. I’m telling you right now.”
“I saw you go past our house, riding for fair,” remarked Step Hen.
“Tell us the rest, Bumpus; what had that ride in a car to do with the
important letter your father gave you to be delivered at the bank?” asked
Davy Jones.
“A heap, I’m afraid,” answered the other, making a wry face. “I can just
remember that my coat managed to break loose, and was flapping in the
wind before I was able to grab it shut, and button it again. And fellers,
I had a glimpse of something white, like a letter, that had slipped out
of my pocket, and was carried over the fence into Brainard’s woods!”
“Wow! and again, wow!” exclaimed Giraffe, that being his favorite way of
expressing surprise and interest in anything.
“I thought at the time that it must be only a scrap of waste paper I
happened to be carrying in my pocket; but fellers, it just broke in on me
a little while back that it _might_ have been that very important letter
I was to give to Mr. Harriman at the bank!”
“Oh! the chances are ten to one it wasn’t, Bumpus,” said Thad, who saw
that the scout was really dreadfully worried, and in a fair way to have
his whole vacation trip to the woods spoiled by over anxiety.
“Perhaps you’re right, Thad, and it’s kind of you to bolster up my hopes
like you do; but then, there is one chance, you see, that I lost that
document; and I’m wondering right now what it could be. Oh! what if it
was so important that my folks would suffer because I lost it? Think how
I’d feel if I came home after having the time of my life up here, and
found all the household stuff out on the street, and the red flag of an
auctioneer telling people that the Stedman place was for sale? Whew! it
makes me feel chilly all over just to think of what I may have done. Then
I just say to myself that of course you delivered that letter Bumpus
Stedman; you couldn’t be so wrapped up in getting ready for the start on
this jaunt as to just forget all about it. And now, it’s too late to go
back, and I’ve just got to worry and worry until I lose pounds every day.
And perhaps, when we go back, I’ll be a living skeleton, like Giraffe
here. Oh! that’s the worst of it. Better learn to quit callin’ me Bumpus,
fellers, because right soon it won’t fit at all.”
“Cheer up!” said Thad, “and sooner or later you’re sure to remember
something that Mr. Harriman said or did, when you handed him the letter;”
but poor Bumpus only shook his head sadly, and sighed again.