THE MARKED SHOE AGAIN.
“He’s got ’em again, boys!” exclaimed Giraffe, in utter disgust. “You
know, time was when our friend Bumpus was always seein’ things? He used
to get us up in the middle of the night huntin’ around for all sorts of
crazy wild beasts; and then, after we’d been nearly frozen, he’d yawn,
say he guessed he must a been dreamin’ again, and turn over to go to
sleep. Now he’s beginnin’ to see things with his eyes open.”
Everybody looked severely at Bumpus. Thad knew the ways of the fat boy as
well as any one could. And he understood that the other could not keep a
straight face when attempting anything like a practical joke. A whimsical
little grin would always betray Bumpus to shrewd and searching eyes.
But just then he had a solemn look. Bumpus even seemed to be aggrieved
that his word should be so lightly taken.
“But I ain’t foolin’, I tell you,” he persisted. “I really and truly did
see somethin’ that _looked_ like a man’s face, peek in at that window!”
“Oh! hear him beginning to hedge, would you?” cried Davy, fiercely.
“First it was a man, and a white man too. Now he says it just looked like
a man. Pretty soon he’ll up and admit that he _thought_ he saw something
moving out there; and when we rush out to hunt around, I guess we’ll find
only the limb of a tree that waves in the night wind. Oh! you Bumpus, we
know you, all right!”
“Oh! very well, if you don’t believe me when I say so, and hold up my
hand this way, why, I haven’t got another thing to say,” grumbled the fat
boy. “But if I didn’t see a face there, why, I’ll, yes, I’ll eat my hat.”
“After all,” remarked Thad, whom the guides had been watching, to take
their cue from his actions, “it ought to be easy to prove Bumpus’
statement one way or the other.”
“How’s that, Thad?” asked Step Hen.
“Why, all we have to do is to ask Sebattis here, or Eli, or Jim, to step
outside and look for tracks!” remarked the patrol leader.
“Well what do you think of that for a bright lot of scouts?” laughed
Giraffe. “That’s what we ought to have thought of the first thing. And
the sooner they get busy, the quicker we’ll know whether Bumpus saw
anything, or just thought he did.”
Thad turned on the guides, and smiling, nodded his head. With that
signal, which they easily understood, both Eli and the Indian darted over
to the fire; while the boys watched them curiously.
“Oh! it’s torches they’re after!” exclaimed Bumpus, seeing the guides
picking out blazing brands that, to their practiced eyes, offered all the
advantages which a lantern might supply.
Doubtless one of the three men would have hastened to the door and pushed
out to investigate, as soon as Bumpus raised his racket; only, hearing
Giraffe making fun of the fat boy, they suspected it was only a prank he
might be playing; and none of them wished to be caught as the victim of a
practical joke.
The door was somewhat difficult to open, but stout Jim threw his weight
upon it, and had a passage for his fellow guides when they were ready to
step out.
Of course every one of the scouts hustled after, even Bumpus, which fact
seemed to speak well for his sincerity. Thad himself secretly believed
that there might be something in what Bumpus had said; and he prepared
himself to hear such an announcement from one of the two who were
intending to look for signs.
The very first thing both Sebattis and Eli did, after emerging from the
hut, was to swing their torches violently around their heads. These made
a hissing sound and the strange action quite aroused the curiosity of
some of the scouts.
“Whatever are they doing that for?” asked Step Hen.
“Looks like they might be signallin’ to somebody, and sayin’ ‘it’s all
off,’” Davy remarked.
But somehow Giraffe, knowing all about fires, and what uses they could be
put to, laughed at their dense ignorance.
“Why, don’t you see,” he declared with an air of superior wisdom, “when
they whirl ’em around swiftly that way, it starts the flame to burning
more fiercely, and so they get better light. See, what did I tell you?
Ain’t they burnin’ to beat the band now? Talk about your electric torch,
bah! it ain’t in the same class with a good live firebrand.”
Both the Penobscot Indian and the old Maine guide had pushed close up
under the window by this time. It was seen that they carefully watched
where they were stepping, as though not wanting to interfere with any
tracks that might happen to lie there.
Bumpus in particular watched their every move as though fascinated. His
veracity had been attacked by his fellow scouts, and he was waiting to
see them “eat humble pie” pretty soon; for a face could not appear at the
little dusty window without having connection with a human body; and that
in turn could not get there save through the aid of a pair of legs; which
would be connected with feet that must leave some sort of trail.
No doubt that was the way Bumpus was figuring it out, as he stood back
with the others, and watched.
Eli evidently realized that though he might be an experienced hand at all
such things as finding tracks and following them, under difficulties that
might daunt many men, he could hardly expect to place himself in the same
class with a genuine son of the forest.
Therefore, Thad noticed that the old Maine guide seemed to purposely
allow Sebattis to have the leading chance. He might know more than the
Indian on many subjects, but was ready to “play second fiddle” as Giraffe
expressed it, when there was a trail to discover, or read.
Hardly had the red guide reached the side of the cabin near the window,
than he made a slight motion with his hand. Eli had evidently been
waiting for some such signal as this. He quickly moved over to where the
other bent down; and the two of them seemed to be looking closely at
something.
A minute later they moved forward, a step at a time, and evidently
following some tracks that were plainly marked upon the ground.
“Huh!” chuckled Bumpus; only that and nothing more; but the one word
contained a world of meaning, and must have given him great satisfaction.
Perhaps, had he happened to be next to Giraffe, instead of Thad, he might
have given the long-legged scout a sly dig in the ribs, and in this way
let him understand that he believed his vindication in a fair way of
being made complete.
“They’ve got something, that’s sure,” declared Davy Jones.
“And now they’re right under the window, too.” added Step Hen. “Guess
Bumpus wasn’t dreamin’ after all. He saw a face, all right. Look at ’em
movin’ off now. Say, Thad, you don’t think they’re goin’ to try and
follow the owner of that face up till they get him, do you?”
“Well, hardly,” returned the patrol leader. “I suppose they just want to
make sure he did skip out, after he saw Bumpus had discovered him. And
that looks like the fellow hardly cared to join our family circle.”
“But who under the sun could he be, Thad?” asked Step Hen. “If there’s
more or less game around these diggings p’raps some trapper’s made up his
mind to stay up here all winter, and take pelts. When he saw our crowd,
he was that disgusted he just pulled up stakes, and lit out for all he
was worth.”
“I think you’re away off there, Step Hen,” declared Giraffe. “Now, if I
was asked my opinion, which nobody seems to care shucks for, I’d say that
feller might be one of the two guides Mr. James W. Carson took into the
woods with him. You see, I reckon there’s a heap of jealousy between all
these same guides; and it galled him to know that after they’d gone and
fetched the gentleman away up here, promisin’ that he’d have all the big
game huntin’ he wanted, without being bothered by any other party, they
had to run smack up against a pack of Boy Scouts, out on a trip. That’s
why he scooted the way he did, I say.”
Giraffe looked toward Thad, as though wishing he would speak up, and
either substantiate his opinion, or else advance a new one. But the
patrol leader was closely watching the guides, and made no remark.
Sebattis and Eli had not gone far away. They seemed to be satisfied with
following the trail just a little distance; and then turning, came back.
Arriving under the window again they beckoned the others to approach.
“Don’t walk over this patch right hyar, boys,” warned the old guide,
pointing down close to his feet; and from this they understood that the
marks lay there.
“It’s thar, all right, Thad,” remarked Eli, with a grin. “Seems like the
boy, he was right arter all, an’ sum critter was a peekin’ in at us.”
Both Thad and Allan of course looked down at the ground. The guides held
their blazing pine-knots closer, so that they could see better.
The impression of human foot could not be easily mistaken for the track
of any sort of wild beast. Even the most ignorant tenderfoot scout that
ever joined a troop must have known that fact at a glance.
But the patrol leader and the Maine boy seemed to discover something
about the imprint of a shoe that caused them to stare. The balance of the
scouts realized that something was about to happen beyond the ordinary:
for they pushed in closer, and waited for either of the two experts to
advance an opinion.
Allan looked at Thad, and the other returned his glance with a nod.
“Seen that track before, eh, Allan?” Thad remarked.
“I sure have, for a fact,” replied the Maine lad, positively.
“Remember how you found a footprint at that other camp of ours, before
the sheriff came along; it had a patch across the sole, and so has this
one. So it stands to reason that the same fellow made both prints. And
didn’t Sheriff Green tell us the leader of those hobo burglars wore a
shoe that had just this same criss-cross patch on the sole? That looks
like we might be somewhere close to that bunch of rascals right now; and
that the sheriff must have gone off on the wrong scent.”
The other scouts listened to all this with wide-open eyes, and
expressions of both amazement and eagerness; but it was Giraffe who
voiced their feelings when he exclaimed, drawing in a long breath:
“Wow! and again I say, wow!”