DOWN THE RIVER—CONCLUSION.
At that there was a roar from the scouts that must have shown the officer
how badly he had deceived himself; but then discovering the two desperate
rascals of whom he was in search, apparently sitting there, and taking
things easy, how was he to know they were prisoners. Besides, he had eyes
only for them, as he came advancing into camp.
“A little too late, Mr. Sheriff,” remarked Thad, advancing to meet the
other, “we found that in self-defense we just _had_ to take these
gentlemen in out of the cold ourselves. Besides, one of them was wounded
by Sebattis the other night, and a second is a pretty sick man, so we’re
going to send them down the river in the morning with part of our force.”
Of course the sheriff was greatly disappointed. To have his work cut out
for him by a parcel of lads wearing the khaki uniforms of the Boy Scouts
was hard on the officer. And Thad felt that Sheriff Green must begrudge
them the reward that had been offered for the apprehension of the
yeggmen, and the recovery of the plunder taken from the last bank they
had broken into.
“Tell you what we’ll do, Mr. Green,” he remarked, as they all sat around
the fire, with the three last arrivals enjoying a late supper; “suppose
we split that reward for the taking of the hoboes into three parts. One
will go to you, as you gave us valuable information; another we scouts
believe we deserve; while the third I want our guides to share among
themselves.”
“That’s a generous offer, my boy,” declared the sheriff. “Most people
would think they had a right to it all, as you really do. I accept for
myself and posse. And if you can take the wounded and the sick man along
in your boats, we’ll see that Charlie gets down there all right. Is it a
bargain?”
Thad glanced around at his chums, and each gave him a nod in the
affirmative. That settled the matter, for the silent vote had been
unanimous.
“It’s a go, sir, and we take you up on that,” declared the leader of the
scout patrol.
Accordingly they talked over the arrangements, and how they might meet
again in the town where the prisoners could be placed in charge of the
authorities, until the proper officers came to take them to Augusta.
Giraffe managed to get Thad alone later on in the evening. The sheriff
was feeling pretty good after his feed, and sat there by the fire
swapping stories with old Eli, while the rest of the scouts lay around,
listening and laughing.
“I noticed that you didn’t say anything about that other pile of stuff we
landed under the stone in the old cabin?” remarked Giraffe.
“That’s right, I didn’t,” answered Thad, readily; “and I kept mum on
purpose. In the first place, it was none of their business, because they
knew nothing about that plunder. And if they knew that we had it, perhaps
it might have made bad feelings. Just remember, and don’t mention it. Of
course, if Charlie happens to give the secret away later on, when he’s
with them, that can’t be helped. I wouldn’t think of denying it, if they
mentioned the matter right now; but I don’t believe it’s any of their
business. Understand, Giraffe?”
“Sure I do, and let me say I’m of the same mind too,” replied the other.
“I’ll just try and let Bumpus and Step Hen know, because, you see,
they’re kind of easy marks, and apt to talk too much. If that sharp
sheriff ever gets a hint of what we dug up, he’ll want to hear the whole
story.”
Of course, with an experienced officer to look after Charlie, none of the
scouts saw any reason for anxiety, or losing sleep in fear of the
desperate hobo breaking loose. Thad confined his labors to the sick and
wounded. He had managed to accomplish that delicate little surgical job
with a fair amount of success, considering his lack of experience.
Kimball was loud in his praise of the boy’s nimble fingers and ready
brain.
“You’ll sure be a great surgeon some day, younker!” he declared. “That
was as nice a job as many a doctor could have done. And I reckon I’m
agoin’ to get well now, and stand for that twenty year sentence the
judge’ll hand out to me. I wish there had been such a thing as Boy Scouts
when I was young; p’raps, then, there’d been a different story to tell
about me.”
Thad was sitting there, listening to the talk, when some one plucked him
by the sleeve, and looking up, he saw Sebattis. There was a glitter in
the black eyes of the dusky guide that surprised the patrol leader.
“Get gun—come ’long—think hear moose call ’gain,” whispered the Indian.
Thad was of course thrilled by this intelligence; but at the same time he
remembered that he had promised Allan the next chance, in case they had
reason to believe a moose were in the vicinity.
Accordingly, he spoke to the Maine boy, and then asked the others to
kindly moderate their noise; though Sebattis had already told him that
they would go fully a mile from the camp before answering the far-away
call.
Again did Sebattis seem to know where he wanted to wait to see if the
moose was to be drawn near the waiting rifles. He settled down at a
certain place, and sent out the strange call that, heard in the dead
silence of the Maine night, always makes the blood of the hunter leap
wildly through his veins.
There was an immediate answering call, and after waiting a little time,
they once more sent a challenge forth.
This was kept up for half an hour, but so far as Thad could see, no
advantage had been gained. Sebattis was grunting now, every time he
called. Perhaps he began to believe this must be a mighty queer moose, to
send back that rolling defiance, and yet not advance to any appreciable
extent.
“No good, bull!” he finally declared, as they heard the answer come from
some distance, and in exactly the same quarter as before.
“But if the mountain won’t come to Mohammed; why, he might go to the
mountain,” Thad suggested; “in other words, chief, what’s to hinder us
from heading that way, with you giving him a call every little while?
He’ll either have to run away, or face the music then, I guess.”
“Huh! just like Thad say; Sebattis ready; heap queer; never know bull
like that. Soon see!”
As they moved along, following the guide, who occasionally sent out a
call, Allan took occasion to say to his chum in a whisper:
“He’s some worked up about that answer, Thad, and I saw him shake his
head. Come to think of it, I really don’t believe it’s a moose at all.”
“What’s that?” exclaimed the patrol leader, quickly; “are you trying to
tell me Sebattis thinks some other guide is making all that row, and
trying to call a moose bull to the gun of his employer?”
“Just what I think; and Sebattis does too,” replied Allan, positively.
“You keep watching him, and see how he acts.”
This was a staggering idea to Thad.
“What if it should be the very man I’m wanting to see, to hand him my
adopted father’s important message, Mr. James W. Carson?” he exclaimed.
“Well, the chances are, that’s just who it’ll turn out to be,” replied
Allan.
As they advanced, the calls became louder. Evidently they were
approaching the place where that mysterious bull moose had taken up his
stand, and dared the other on, to lock horns with him in battle.
Presently Sebattis slung his moose call over his shoulder, and called out
aloud:
“How there, Louie! You do um purty well; fool me some time, hey?”
Voices were heard, followed by a loud laugh; and then two men appeared,
Thad having thrown on the light of his little electric torch.
“Is that Mr. Carson?” he called out, as the other approached.
“Just who it is; and who may this be?” asked the hunter, who had another
Indian guide with him, evidently from the same village as Sebattis, for
they immediately got together, and began talking in their own language.
“My name’s Thad Brewster, and I’ve been sent up here by my guardian, Mr.
Caleb Cushman, with an important communication for you. He tried to get
in touch with you at your home, but learned that you had started for your
annual winter trip into the woods of the big game country, and might not
come out again until Spring. Please take this packet, then, Mr. Carson;
and if there is any answer I’ll carry it back to my guardian.”
Mr. Carson sat down, and after looking over the important communication
that had followed him so strangely into the woods, wrote out an answer,
which he entrusted to the keeping of the patrol leader.
Then he asked many questions, and was deeply interested in all that he
heard concerning the Silver Fox Patrol of Cranford Troop.
“I’d like to go back to your camp, and make the acquaintance of the rest
of the boys,” he remarked, as he shook hands with each of the scouts in
parting; “but all my plans are laid to leave this section at daybreak. My
guides are going to take me to where they promise I shall surely get my
moose. You were lucky in having a chance at one. We came out here to make
a last try, and were hoping our luck had changed when finally an answer
came. But both Louie and myself agreed that the bull was the most
cautious old animal we had ever met up with. And then, when Sebattis,
with whom I have often hunted, called out, it gave us a shock, I tell
you.”
So the boys and Sebattis went back to camp, and the others were
astonished as well as pleased to know Thad had been able to carry out the
wish of his generous guardian; and that they need no longer think of
dividing their forces in the morning, leaving Thad, Allan and Sebattis to
continue the search, while the others took the two cripples to the
nearest river town below.
The night passed without any more exciting incidents, for which the tired
boys thought they had reason to be grateful; for of late their sleep had
not been as sound as they might have wished, and every one of them had
much to make up. And besides, now that Thad had delivered his message to
Mr. Carson, his mind was free from worry.
With the coming of early dawn they were astir. Every scout had his
particular duty to perform. Two of them stowed the tents away in the
smallest compass possible; another couple began to pack the canoes; while
Thad and Bumpus assisted in getting breakfast; or rather the latter did,
for the patrol leader had his hands full in attending to his patients,
Dick and Kimball.
The sun had hardly appeared above the horizon when they were once more
afloat. Again did the merry paddles send the sparkling foam toward the
stern of each slender canoe, as they headed downstream.
Sheriff Green had declared that he would take Charlie about six or seven
miles down to a place where he knew he could get the use of a large boat,
capable of carrying four men; and in this he expected to arrive at
civilization not a great many hours after the others did.
By changing the cargoes it was found possible to carry the two extra
passengers, especially since neither of them happened to be a large man.
The boys were as happy as larks as they swept down the river. They
laughed, joked and sang by the hour, because now there was no longer any
reason for keeping silent, since they were passing out of the big game
country.
“But not near half of our time is up,” Giraffe would remark frequently;
“and after we get these two cripples safely landed, why, we mean to make
a fresh start. Allan says he’ll show us another trail, where we c’n meet
up with a new lot of adventures, have some fine hunting, and see more of
these great Maine woods. For one I’m just hopin’ we’ll run up against a
pack of them fierce old wolves like we heard howlin’ near our cabin that
night. A bear is all well enough, but I’ve always wanted to bag a wolf,
the worst kind.”
“Don’t you think you’re goin’ to run the whole shootin’ match,” remarked
Bumpus significantly. “There are others, Giraffe.”
“Hello! sounds like Bumpus has changed his mind, and feels like he had
ought to own a gun of some kind too!” declared Step Hen.
“That’s right, he does,” Bumpus hastened to declare, boldly. “If other
Boy Scouts c’n carry weapons in the woods, I don’t see why I hadn’t ought
to have the same privilege. My folks don’t like the ijee very much; but
then a feller’s just got to keep up with the procession. And it’ll be the
makin’ of me, I guess, if somethin’ coaxes me to get out in the woods,
and walk miles every chance that comes along. Let’s look at that fine
little gun of yours again, Step Hen. If I only can get one, that’s my
idea of a clever shooter. And it don’t wear a feller’s shoulder out,
either, carryin’ the same.”
“Glad to hear it, Bumpus; and I reckon you’ll be able to afford a gun,
with all your share of the fat rewards ahead. If you say so, I’ll go to
the gun store with you, and help pick out a good one. You really ought to
have an experienced hand along at such a time.”
Thad and Allan exchanged glances at this remark on the part of Step Hen;
for they knew full well that his rifle had been purchased entirely
through the advice of the patrol leader.
“Thank you, Step Hen,” Bumpus was heard to say sweetly in reply; “I’ll be
only too glad to have you along. But I’ve got one important piece of
business to look after the minute I get ashore, and within reach of a
telegraph office. If it busts my pocketbook I’m sure goin’ to send a wire
to our bank cashier, and ask him if I did deliver that letter my dad told
me was so important.”
“Why, I should think you’d rather send the message to your own house?”
Giraffe suggested, with a wink toward Thad, for the canoes were all close
together at the time.
“Me?” exclaimed the stout scout, drawing in a long breath. “Well, now,
I’d just be afraid to hear the news from headquarters, you know. What if
they had lost their lovely home and all because of my stupid
forgetfulness, d’ye think I could stand it to stay up here weeks longer,
havin’ fun? No, I’ve got it all mapped out, and know just what I want to
say to the cashier. And believe me, I’m hopin’ for the best, fellers.
Have a little pity on me, won’t you?”
“We do feel for you, old fellow,” said Step Hen, who was drawn toward
Bumpus more than ever, on account of this unconscious flattery regarding
his new gun; and besides, boy though he was, he could see that the other
was really laboring under a heavy strain, and actually suffering from the
pangs of remorse.
What the number of miles might be they covered that day, no one dared
even guess; but although they fairly flew at times, owing to the combined
work of current and paddles, another night had to be spent on the way.
But about noon of the second day they realized that they were getting on
the borders of civilization again. A dog barking was the first sign, and
then came the clarion crow of a barnyard rooster.
Afterwards a house appeared, then several more; and far beyond the spire
of a church reared itself against the clear heavens.
Bumpus looked frightfully pale—for him. He knew that the time had come
when he might learn the facts as connected with that letter, the disposal
of which he had never been able to solve; since the more he tried the
greater became his confusion of ideas.
And about the hour of noon the canoes were turned in toward the shore,
for they saw the town of Grindstone before them, with the railroad
leading southwest in the direction of the homes that were so far away.
Hardly waiting for the landing to be made, Bumpus got ashore, and was
seen hurrying off into the town. They knew that he had in mind the
station, where he could send off a hurry message; and Step Hen, receiving
a word from Thad, hastened after the fat boy, so as to make sure he did
not get into any trouble.
Once at the station Bumpus, who had made a rough draft of what he wanted
to wire the cashier, gave it over to the keeping of the agent, and asked
that it be sent at once. He would sit down and wait for the answer.
The clicking of the nimble telegraph key was about the only sound that
disturbed the silence in that station, for trains were evidently few and
far between on the Aroostook railroad.
It may have been an hour that dragged past, and it may have been much
more, Bumpus declared he had aged terribly since coming there; and Step
Hen tried all he knew how, to keep the other’s spirits up.
“There, he’s taking a message right now, and it may be for you, Bumpus!”
he said.
A minute later, the operator came toward them, holding out a yellow
paper.
“Here’s the answer from Cranford,” the telegraph man remarked, with a
smile; and Bumpus could hardly take the sheet, his hands trembled so
terribly.
Less than ten minutes later, a very stout youth, clad partly in the
uniform of the Boy Scout organization, might have been seen running
wildly down toward the river, followed closely by another, evidently
belonging to the same patrol. And as Bumpus ran, he was waving above his
head a yellow sheet of paper, while he let out frequent roars, that
seemed to be fashioned on one key, and that of joy.
“She’s come, fellers!” was the burden of his whoops; “and I did my duty
all right, just like I always said I must a done. He says I delivered the
letter that mornin’, when I met him on the street. That makes me happy,
and I’m ready to buy the best gun I c’n get in this town, and stay up in
the Maine woods a whole month, if the rest of you want me to.”
They did stay some weeks longer, and met with a series of strange
adventures, that some of the boys believed really excelled those that had
befallen them in the Penobscot region. What these happenings were, and
just how Thad and his five chums acted their parts most manfully in the
face of many difficulties will be found recorded in the pages of the next
volume of this series, now published under the title of “The Boy Scouts
in the Maine Woods,” or “A New Test for the Silver Fox Patrol.”
“By the way, Bumpus,” remarked Thad, later, as they sat around, taking
their ease, “did the cashier tell you what the nature of that
communication was; and did it turn out to be so dreadfully important?”
Bumpus grew red in the face and grinned.
“Oh! shucks! I s’pose you all have just _got_ to know,” he remarked. “It
was on’y a line from my dad, tellin’ the cashier he’d lunch with him that
same day, and take him out in his new Alco car. You know my dad’s the
president of the bank, but he’s been sick at home for a long time, and
had to get a car to take him out in the air. But who cares for expenses;
gimme two cents’ worth of gingersnaps? I’m feelin’ fine right now’, and
c’n afford to laugh at all my silly worryin’. Might a known a scout
wouldn’t do such a silly thing as to forget an important message. Shucks!
Step Hen, let’s go around and see if we can find that gun anywhere. I’ve
got the money to buy it all right.”
Of course the boys understood that the pretended anxiety of Bumpus in
connection with trouble coming to his family through carelessness on his
part had all been put on; but what he had feared was the reproaches of
his father, who had long been trying to cure him of this same fault.
The two injured men had been handed over to the proper authorities, and a
doctor was even then examining what Thad had done for Kimball.
“You owe this lad a lot of thanks, my friend,” the doctor said; “he
certainly has done a very neat job in uniting the lips of that artery.
I’m afraid you’d have passed in your checks for a certainty, only for the
prompt first aid to the injured which you received;” and Thad felt amply
repaid when he thus learned that after all, his crude work had not been
so clumsy as he had feared at the time.
To dispose of the three hobo yeggmen, it might be stated that they were
eventually sentenced to various terms in the penitentiary. The reward,
which had been increased to two thousand dollars, was paid over to the
boys, and by them divided, just as Thad had proposed. And everybody
seemed more than satisfied.
But of course that was only a small part of what was coming the way of
the six scouts. Thad soon learned that the bank recently robbed had also
offered a reward for the recovery of the bonds that had been taken; and
this eventually fell into the treasury of the Silver Fox Patrol.
Then there was that other plunder, which had been found under the stone
in the old cabin of the trapper, away up the river in the big game
country. Doubtless the plundered bank would be delighted to pay a big sum
for the return of those valuable documents, not to mention the cash that
had also been recovered.
Thad did not have the time just then to open up communications, for he
wanted to be off with his chums on another trip in a different direction;
and one that Allan had wished they could take at the time they were
compelled to follow on the trail of Mr. James W. Carson. So Thad placed
the sealed packet in the safe of a gentleman whom Allan chanced to know
right well, and who promised to open negotiations with the robbed bank,
while the scouts were up in the woods.
“I’m pretty sure,” the gentleman remarked, “that there is a very nice sum
offered in this case; and if so, you lads are to be congratulated
indeed.”
“It means a trip out West next summer for our whole patrol; and a hunt in
the wild Rock Mountains;” declared Bumpus, who was now wearing a
perpetual smile, because of the good news he had received from Cranford.
And it turned out that they did receive a splendid purse from the bank
people, who were overjoyed to get back papers that were of tremendous
value to them, even if of little account to others. What this amount was
there is really no necessity of telling; but it was enough, added to all
the rest they received, to make the six boys the happiest fellows in all
the great state of Maine. And doubtless, even before they knew to a
certainty just what they were going to receive, it can be set down for a
fact that they would start out on the second half of their vacation in
the Maine woods with lighter hearts than they had known for many a day.
THE END.
Transcriber’s Notes
--Copyright notice provided as in the original—this e-text is public
domain in the country of publication.
--Silently corrected palpable typos; left non-standard spellings and
dialect unchanged.
--In the text versions, delimited italics text in _underscores_ (the HTML
version reproduces the font form of the printed book.)
--Added a Table of Contents.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Boy Scouts on the Trail, by Herbert Carter