FIGURING IT OUT.
“Told you so!” Bumpus could not refrain from saying, in triumph.
Thad turned on him.
“Suppose you let us know what the fellow looked like, Bumpus?” he
remarked. “If we happen on him in any of our wanderings, it might be just
as well that we knew the kind of customer we have to deal with. Can you
describe him?”
“I’m afraid not, Thad,” replied the fat boy, a little dejectedly. “You
see, just as quick as he caught sight of me turning my eyes up there, he
ducked. And all I saw was that he had a face, and a kinder hairy one at
that.”
“Oh! you mean he wore a beard?” asked the other.
“Sure he did,” was the reply. “That’s what made me wonder whether it
might have been a monkey of some sort, even if I didn’t say as much to
Giraffe when he was kidding me. But I happened to remember that
_ordinary_ monkeys don’t grow up here in Maine,” and the suggestive look
he shot in the direction of Davy made that comrade sneer; as though he
had grown hardened to being classed with the tree-climbing tribe, just
because he could hang by his toes from a limb, or go up to the tiptop of
any tree that he had ever seen.
“Well, he came, and he saw; but he didn’t conquer, not by a long sight,”
observed Step Hen. “He didn’t like our looks one little bit, fellows, and
made tracks out of here. What d’ye s’pose brought him around, in the
first place?”
“Mout a be’n jest passin’, an’ seein’ our light in hyar, thort he’d cum
ter look us up. If he’s thet kind o’ a varmint, he mebbe thort as how
thar was good pickin’s ter be bed. But he knows better now.”
It was Eli who advanced this opinion. Thad had another one that was based
on certain facts obtained from the Maine sheriff who had dropped in on
their camp so unexpectedly.
“If that was the man called Charley Barnes,” he said, “you must remember
that we heard he used to be a guide up in this country long ago, before
he took to his present calling. And in that case, why, perhaps he may
have known of this old cabin here, and was coming to see if it would make
a half-way decent place to stay for a while. Perhaps one of his friends
is sick; or it might be they feel that they just have to hold over
somewhere, so as to lay in a stock of food. That’s an idea the sheriff
had, I recollect; and he wanted to keep so hot on their track that they’d
find no time for hunting, and must get hungry.”
“Well, it _was_ a man, anyway, wasn’t it?” asked Bumpus, demurely; for he
felt that Giraffe owed him an apology of some sort.
“Yes, it was a man,” admitted that worthy, frankly; “and for once you’ve
got a bulge on me, Bumpus. Rub it in all you want to; my hide’s about as
thick as the skin of a rhinoceros, and I c’n stand it easy.”
“Oh! that’s all right, Giraffe,” replied the other, ready to forgive, now
that things were coming his way; “I was only thinkin’ how queer it seems
to have them hobo burglars huntin’ us up. Remember what I said about that
fat reward we’d get, if we happened to pull ’em in? A big thousand
dollars, Mr. Green said it was; and p’raps double that by now. Well,
funnier things have happened, understand, than a pack of Brave Scouts,
tried and true, rounding up a bunch of cowardly hoboes. We can do it,
fellers, and not half try, if we get the chance.”
Again Thad thought it one of the queerest things he had ever seen, to
watch how the fire of enthusiasm seemed to burn within the breast of the
usually rather timid and backward Bumpus Hawtree. Evidently he had his
mind set on that reward; and could see how splendidly it would come in
for the patrol, in paying the expenses of another long vacation trip they
had in mind.
“Wonder if he’ll come back any more?” remarked Step Hen, as they began to
move into the cabin again, there being no further reason for remaining
out in the cold.
“I reckon now, he saw all he wanted, and didn’t care about waiting to be
introduced to such a gang,” Giraffe chuckled.
“Speak for yourself, Giraffe,” remarked Davy, disdainfully.
“I just can’t get over Bumpus, here, showing such a strong desire to grab
these burglar fellers,” Giraffe went on. “What’s comin’ over him, do you
think? We never used to think him daring or bold. He always said his heft
kept him from joining in with the rest of the boys, when they skated over
a ‘ticklish bender’ in the ice; and that it’d sure break with him. Same
way about doin’ a lot of stunts. Now here he is, tryin’ to copy after
Davy Jones in some of his monkey-shines; and makin’ the rest of us look
like thirty cents when it comes to wantin’ to surround these here
ferocious hoboes, and take ’em prisoners.”
Bumpus shrugged his fat shoulders, and tried to look indifferent.
“Huh! that’s because you never really knew what I had in me,” he said,
calmly, though Thad could see the merry twinkle in his eyes; “It ain’t
always the savage lookin’ feller that turns out a _real_ hero, when the
time comes around. Often the quiet, modest, retirin’ sort of chap jumps
in, and saves the drownin’ child.”
“Oh; and that’s you, is it?” demanded Giraffe, as he settled himself down
in his blanket, ready to try for a little sleep.
“Everything seems to be comin’ my way,” replied Bumpus, proudly. “All you
have to do is to wait for the turn of the tide. I’m feelin’ just joyful.
let me tell you;—all but one thing;” he added, hastily. “If I only knew
about that letter business. Did I deliver it at the bank; or was I silly
enough to forget, and lose it? Sometimes I c’n just see myself walkin’ in
through the door of that bank, and deliverin’ the old thing; then it all
gets mixed up, and for the life of me I just can’t say one way or
t’other. If one of you only remembered seeing me go in, or come out; or
if I said anything about handin’ it over, it’d ease my mind a heap, now,
I tell you.”
Every time Bumpus got to thinking about that one trouble he lapsed into
silence, because he did not seem to get any sympathy from most of his
chums; Giraffe and Davy in particular being very apt to taunt him on his
poor memory. Step Hen was not inclined to say very much, lest he draw the
vials of the fat boy’s wrath down on his own head; for as we know, Step
Hen had a failing himself in the line of forgetting what he had done with
things he owned.
Once more the boys crawled under their blankets. Each of them had managed
to manufacture some sort of a pillow. One had taken his clothes bag, and
this example several of the rest copied, as suiting their wants exactly.
Bumpus, lacking enough material, had gone out to the canoe and brought in
his old haversack, from which he extracted the very rubber foot bath
which he had mentioned to his chums as belonging to Smithy. This he
crammed half full of other things, and declared it made as soft a pillow
as anybody wanted.
“Better cover that rubber with a towel, or something like it,” remarked
Thad.
“But this feels so nice and cool,” complained Bumpus.
“It may now, all right, but after a while, when you sleep, it’ll begin to
draw like everything; and the chances are, you’ll look like a boiled
lobster on one side of your face by morning. I’ve been there myself, and
know how it smarts and burns.”
“Thank you, Thad, for the advice, and I’ll take advantage of it right
away,” declared the stout scout, sweetly. “Ain’t it the best thing ever
to have a chum or two along, like Thad and Allan, who know so many
things? Why, if it wasn’t for them, the rest of us would look like the
babes in the woods.”
“Let up on that chatter, please, Bumpus,” grumbled Step Hen. “It’s
gettin’ awful late, and we ought to been asleep long ago.”
“Yes, button up, Bumpus, I’d rather hear you snore than talk just now,”
came from under the blanket that Giraffe had wrapped himself in, much
after the style of a mummy.
“All right. I’ll just lie on my back, then, and try to accommodate you,”
the other shot back.
“I’ve got one of my shoes handy, remember, and if you so much as give one
little snort I mean to shy it over in that corner,” Giraffe threatened.
The guides had been talking quietly among themselves, and when Thad saw
Sebattis open the door and slip out, he could give a pretty good guess
what the Indian meant to do. Perhaps he suspected that the hoboes,
lacking a boat with which to make their flight easier as long as the
river continued navigable, might return in numbers later in the night, in
order to help themselves from the stock of Oldtown canvas canoes owned by
the scouts’ party.
Yes, the shrewd Penobscot Indian did not mean that such a disaster should
come to pass; and doubtless he and his fellow-guides had arranged for
sentry duty by turns during the entire night.
Thad felt perfectly secure with such wide-awake videttes to look out for
the approach of the enemy. He would have gladly taken his turn on post if
asked; but it seemed as though the three guides considered that a part of
their duty. They had an easy enough task as it was, with these boys so
willing to paddle in turn, make fires, help cook the meals, and do all
sorts of things that generally the guide has fall on his shoulders alone.
Presently silence fell upon the cabin. The fire smouldered on the great
hearth, and occasionally flamed up, only to die down again. If it got
very low, some one who happened to be awake at the time, was supposed to
quietly get up, and put more fuel on; this had been anticipated, and
there was plenty under the shelter of the cabin roof.
Perhaps Bumpus believed that Giraffe really meant that dire threat he
made in connection with his heavy shoe; at any rate he did not venture to
lie on his back at all, and therefore failed to emit anything that could
be called a snore.
Hours crept on, and the night wore away. Some of the scouts never woke up
once from the time they dropped off to sleep until the delightful odor of
boiling coffee gave them to understand that dawn was at hand, and Jim
getting breakfast ready for the whole outfit.
That caused the last of them to climb out, and there was more or less
chattering as they went outside to try and find water that was not icy
cold, in order to wash their faces, and chase the last remnants of sleep
from their eyes.
“I wonder,” said Bumpus, looking up at the brightening sky, and trying to
keep from shivering as he dashed water over his rosy face; “if this is
goin’ to be a good day for bee tree huntin’; because I’ll never be happy
till I’ve seen what a real honey hole looks like.”
“But remember,” warned Giraffe, solemnly, “we ain’t fillin’ our kettles
an’ bath tubs with the honey. I know where a heap of it c’n be stowed
away right now; and that’s all I’m thinkin’ about. Hey! there’s Jim
rattling the frying-pan with that big spoon. I reckon breakfast’s ready,
before we are. Get a move on, Bumpus!”