A FACE IN THE WINDOW.
“Ugh! that right, Eli; wolf only cry like that!” said a voice close
beside the two who stood there; and turning, they could make out a figure
which they knew must be that of Sebattis; but so softly had the Indian
slipped out, after hearing that well-known though faint howl, that even
Eli, sharp ears though he possessed, had not detected his coming until he
spoke.
“Where thar’s one wolf thar’s agoin’ ter be more,” remarked the old Maine
guide, with the air of one who knew what he was talking about.
“Huh! wolf he always hunt in pack, never by self,” observed Sebattis,
drily.
“That adds a little spicy flavor to our being up here, then,” Thad went
on to say, being not displeased; for if only he could have that magical
little rifle of Step Hen’s in his hands, he cared not how many of the
fierce brutes he might run across; for with its quick-shooting qualities,
and the deadly nature of the bullets it used, he believed he could take
care of all comers. Besides, if hard-pressed, it was always possible to
take to a tree, where one would be safe from the cruel fangs of the
animals.
When they went inside, and told what they had heard, the boys received
the news with various shades of enthusiasm. Giraffe was really pleased,
for he meant to do something bold on this trip that would forever
establish his reputation as a mighty Nimrod; Step Hen fondled his rifle,
and then stood it in the corner close to the spot where he had spread his
blanket, as though he had a faint idea he might find need for it in the
night; Davy Jones shrugged his shoulders, and hoped he would not happen
to run across the pack when alone; and as for Bumpus, he deliberately
changed his blanket, placing it on the further side of several others,
away from that open door.
But Eli had been examining that same door, and was of the opinion that,
with a little effort, it might be coaxed to shut. This he proceeded to
accomplish, and with a success that won him a cheer from the timid
Bumpus.
“Never did like to sleep in a draught,” muttered the fat scout; “and I’m
glad the glass stayed in that window all these years.”
“That is queer, for a fact,” observed Thad. “But I reckon now it would
never have held out if some of the fellows we have in Cranford had come
along.”
“You hit it right about that, Thad,” agreed Step Hen. “Take that Ambrose
Griffin and his cronies, Eli Bangs and Walt Hopkins, and they never could
pass an empty house without shyin’ stones at the windows. I’ve heard a
smash many a time, and seen one of them scootin’ away like hot cakes.
Guess they like to hear the jingle of the broken glass; it must sound
like music to some fellers.”
“What’s thet ye say ’bout Eli?” asked the old guide, pricking up his
ears.
“Oh! we weren’t talking about you that time,” laughed Thad. “It happens
that you’ve got a namesake down in the town where we live, who’s up to
every trick there is, that he thinks will afford him some fun;” and as
the guide expressed an interest in the matter, Thad detailed a few of the
practical jokes which were believed to lie at the doors of the three bad
boys of Cranford.
When he heard about the lights going out at the church, just when a
convert was about to be immersed, and the cries of the alarmed audience,
together with shrieks from the frightened woman, who really thought she
had been transplanted from this world into another, since everything
became suddenly black around her, the guide grinned. He had never heard
of such carrying on, and thought it was comical. But Thad knew that more
than one person had need of a doctor after that episode; and that if
actual proof could be procured concerning the culprits who cut the
electric wires, they would have been severely punished by the town
fathers.
Somehow none of the boys seemed in such a hurry to lie down now. Thad’s
stories of events which they knew from first hands started them talking
again; and by degrees some of the rest related other doings that were
commonly laid at the door of the three Cranford scapegraces.
Bumpus changed his blanket three separate times in the course of half an
hour. There was no draught now to complain of, since Eli had managed to
get the door closed; but Thad noticed the fat and timid scout eying that
wide throat of the chimney; and really believed Bumpus had come to
suspect that it was large enough to admit of the passage of one of those
hungry wolves, should they find all other avenues of ingress closed to
them. And he did not fancy being directly in the road of the first one
that came in.
Bumpus knew that he must prove a juicy morsel for any half-starved beast
of prey; and that, given the chance, they were just sure to pick him out.
Giraffe was playing safe under any considerations, for the animal that
would prefer that bag of bones must be out of its mind.
And Thad also made up his mind that after Bumpus got fairly to sleep he
would manage to get possession of the gun he had hitched closer to him,
and which was the double-barreled weapon carried into the woods by Davy,
who had made no protest when the stout boy coolly appropriated the same.
There could be no telling but that Bumpus, with his mind worked up over
that bear, and the wolf that had howled away off up the river, might
dream he was being hotly attacked. And a gun in the possession of a
greenhorn can be even more dangerous under such conditions than if an
adept handled it.
“I’ve just thought of a good thing,” suddenly exclaimed Bumpus.
“Then get it out of your system in a hurry, or it’ll hurt you,” said
Giraffe.
“No danger of anything good ever hurting _you_, Giraffe,” declared the
other, with a fine show of sarcasm that caused the tall scout to grin;
for somehow, when he and Bumpus got to exchanging compliments, Giraffe
always seemed rather tickled if the other managed to give him a sly dig.
“Well, let’s hear what struck you, all of a sudden,” he remarked.
“It’s about our honey,” began Bumpus, seriously.
“What honey?” demanded Giraffe, pretending to look all around. “I haven’t
seen any, that I know of.”
“Oh! you know what I mean;” Bumpus went on; “the honey we expect to get,
when Allan finds the bee tree. I’m just as dead sure he’s goin’ to do it,
as I am of having my breakfast to-morrow morning.”
“Well, I reckon Allan only wishes he was as sure as you are,” Giraffe
remarked.
“Let him tell what’s on his mind, can’t you, Giraffe?” broke in Davy
Jones. “I think it’s a shame how you badger that poor fellow. Don’t you
know there’s a law against cruelty to animals?”
“Monkeys are included under that law, please remember,” retorted the fat
boy, as he turned on his new tormentor. “But I suppose you fellows are
just dying to know the brilliant thought that just flashed into my mind a
little while ago?”
“Go on, and get it out,” begged Step Hen.
“Yes, we want to know, if we’re not from Missouri,” added Allan.
“Well, there isn’t any reason why we should waste a whole lot of it after
all, if we only know enough to use our brains, and take advantage of our
opportunities,” Bumpus went on, with exasperating slowness, as though
this might be his method of getting even for the attack upon him.
“What sort of opportunities?” demanded Davy.
“Storage capacity,” answered the other, simply.
“Now, its all very well to want to save the honey,” observed Giraffe,
eying the other suspiciously; “but if you expect us to fill up our
kettles, and every dish we’ve got along with us, you’re off your base,
Bumpus. We have to eat three times a day; and just fancy having even the
coffee pot jammed full of sticky sweetness.”
“Guess again,” remarked Bumpus, composedly. “Well, I suppose that I’ll
just _have_ to tell you, because you’d never get on to such a brilliant
idea in a thousand years. First thing, you didn’t know I brought it
along, perhaps. Don’t hardly understand myself just why I borrowed it
from Smithy; but I must have thought it’d come in handy, sometime or
other. And it’s going to, fellows; it’s going to.”
“What is?” shouted Giraffe, now at the end of his patience.
“Why, that cute little collapsible rubber foot bath belonging to our
comrade, Smithy. You know he was such a clean feller, that he just
couldn’t think of going anywhere at first, without carrying that tub
along. It holds quite a lot; and if we filled it with nice sweet honey——”
But poor Bumpus did not get any further in his explanation. Roars of
laughter broke in upon his story; for the idea of filling a rubber foot
bath with the sticky product of a bee tree was too much for the rest of
the boys. And Bumpus, after staring around in a hurt way, shrugged his
fat shoulders, and relapsed into silence, simply remarking.
“Oh! all right; that’s all a feller gets for crackin’ his brain trying to
think up things for the benefit of the whole bunch. I just guess that old
bear’ll get the main part of our honey, after all.”
“What’s that? Do bears like honey, Allan?” demanded Giraffe.
“I should say they did,” replied the Maine lad, readily enough. “They’re
just wild over it. A bear will overturn a hive, if ever he gets in a
garden, and devour comb and all, like a regular pig.”
“But the bees,” continued the tall scout; “don’t they sting him at all?
Think of the thousands of little critters, each with his poison lance,
stinging that poor bear.”
“It doesn’t seem to bother the bear one bit,” Allan added. “I’ve known
them to just clean out a hive; and when we shot the varmint just
afterward, he didn’t seem to have a swollen head from any stings. But if
we should be lucky enough to find a bee tree, perhaps we’ll coax our
friend, the bear that was in this cabin, to come around; and then some of
you can get a crack at him. His hide would make a rug to be proud of,
especially if you had killed the beast yourself.”
“Count me in on that game,” said Giraffe, earnestly. “I boasted to the
boys at home that I was goin’ to bag a big bear; and if I don’t make good
they’ll give me the laugh, you see. And then we’ll find out whether this
heavy old rifle that belonged to my uncle, ain’t equal to a new-fangled
little popgun that shoots spreader bullets.”
The boys had begun to show new signs of quieting down. Some were yawning
again, and the chances were the signal to crawl under the blankets would
presently have been given by Thad.
It was Bumpus who suddenly aroused the whole party. He sat upright on the
floor, and pointed directly at the window that was opposite to where he
had last thrown his blanket down. Thad saw that the face of the fat boy
really expressed surprise, not to mention consternation, as he cried out:
“Oh! I wonder who that was I saw peek in at the window just then, and
draw back when he caught me lookin’ at him. A white man, too, fellers, it
was, believe me; I ain’t foolin’!”
Everybody jumped up, the three guides as well as the boys, when Bumpus
made this astonishing declaration. But although their eyes instantly
sought the window indicated, the cob-webbed glass betrayed no sign of the
presence of any one.