THE PICNIC LUNCH
Surprise, for a few seconds, kept the boys from saying a word. Teddy,
himself, was not only astonished, but the breath was somewhat jolted
out of him so he could not have said anything even if he had wished to.
Joe, Dick and Fatty Nolan were the first to speak and they all shouted,
together:
“Who did that?”
By this time Teddy had managed to scramble to his feet. He loosened the
loop of the lasso and slipped it over his head, letting the coils fall
to the ground. Then he, too, demanded:
“Who did that?”
There was no answer. Teddy picked up the rope and pulled on it. The far
end came snaking over the ground out of the bushes.
“Why, there’s no one there!” exclaimed Dick. “No one has hold of the
rope!”
“But somebody must have thrown this lasso!” declared Joe.
“And they gave it a good yank, too, after they lassoed me,” said Teddy.
“I was pulled right off my feet! I’m going to find out who’s playing
tricks!”
Teddy was about to pull all the rope toward him, in coils at his feet,
when Fatty Nolan called:
“Don’t do that!”
“Why not?” Teddy asked.
“Because,” answered the fat boy, “if you pull in all the rope you won’t
be able to see where it ends. Leave it lying there and we can trail it
to the far end and see who lassoed you.”
“I don’t believe you can,” said Dick. “I think whoever threw that lasso
ran away right after they tossed it at you, Teddy. We won’t find anyone
at the other end of this rope. But Fatty’s idea is a good one. We’ll
follow the rope and see.”
“I used to belong to the Boy Scouts where I lived before we came here,”
Fatty said a bit proudly. “I’m going to join again if there’s a troop
here.”
“Sure there is,” Teddy said. “We all belong.”
Just as Dick had predicted, there was no one at the end of the lasso
when the boys had trailed it to the bushes. There it lay, stretched out
like a hempen snake.
“Take it easy now, fellows,” cautioned Teddy as his chums crowded
around the end of the rope.
“Why?” asked Joe. “Do you think the lasso man is hiding around here?”
“No, I think he’s far enough away by this time,” Teddy replied. “But I
was going to see if I could find his footprints. Maybe we could trace
him that way.”
“That’s right!” Fatty agreed. “Let Teddy look alone. If we all walk
around here there’ll be so many footprints he won’t be able to tell
one from another.”
“I don’t know that I’ll be able to detect any marks as it is,” Teddy
said. “This ground is sort of hard. But maybe there will be traces of
some shoe prints.”
Teddy knelt down and began to use some of his Boy Scout knowledge in
trailing. At first, he saw nothing unusual. As he had said, the ground
was too hard. But, after scouting about a bit, Teddy uttered a cry of
surprise.
“I think I’ve found it!” he exclaimed. “Come over here! Careful,
fellows! Look!” and he pointed to a little patch of soft earth in which
was imbedded several impressions of a small star.
“What does that mean?” asked Dick. “That an astronomer has been here?”
“No,” Teddy answered. “But it means somebody that wears metal heel
plates in the shape of a star has been here. And I think they were on
the shoes of the man who lassoed me.”
“What do you mean by heel plates?” asked Fatty.
“Why, some men, who wear down the heels of their shoes faster than
the soles, put metal plates on the heels to stop the wear,” Teddy
explained. “Mr. Crispen, the cobbler on Main street, has lots of heel
plates. They come in different shapes. Maybe he has some like these
stars and can tell us who bought them.”
“That’s a dandy clue,” said Joe.
“But it doesn’t help us find the mysterious deer,” Dick stated. “Unless
the deer wore heel plates.”
“Well, if the deer did wear heel plates, he certainly didn’t lasso me,”
declared Teddy. “Though the lasso man who ran away and the mysterious
deer must be mixed up in some way.”
“Why do you think he lassoed you?” asked Fatty Nolan.
“Haven’t the least idea,” Teddy answered. “Unless maybe he wanted to
scare us away from following him.”
“But if he wanted to do that, he wouldn’t run away and leave a good
lasso, would he?” asked Joe.
“You can’t tell,” was Teddy’s answer. “Anyhow,” he went on, “it’s a
good lasso. It’s just like some of those the cowboys had in the Wild
West Show that was here last year. The man who left this lasso must be
sorry to lose it.”
“Do you think he stood here and threw at you?” asked Joe.
“That’s what it looks like, from the star heel plates,” Teddy answered.
“Look, you can see a lot of them now.”
There were several impressions of the star heel plates in the soft
ground, near where the end of the lasso led. But when the boys tried to
follow the trail they soon lost it. They could not trace the peculiar
marks where the ground was hard.
Perhaps, a more experienced trailer might have been able to do so. But
the boys were only amateurs and had no luck.
“Anyhow,” Teddy declared, “I got a good lasso out of it. And we know
who to look for now--a man with star heel plates.”
“What are you going to do now?” asked Joe as Teddy began coiling the
rope.
“Let’s go back to town and ask Mr. Crispen if he can tell us who bought
any star heel plates lately,” Teddy suggested.
The others agreed this was a good idea and it was at once acted on.
They started back to the village.
“Though this isn’t finding the mysterious deer,” remarked Joe.
“We’ll have another try at that after we find out about the heel
plates,” Teddy said.
On the way back across the meadows and fields the boys kept a lookout
for a sight of the deer or the lasso man who had so mysteriously
disappeared after making a cast at Teddy. But they saw neither. They
took their time, stopping to get another drink at the spring before
taking the homeward trail.
It was this same day that Margie, Lucy and several other girls went on
a little picnic to Buttermilk Falls. This was a favorite picnic spot
for the young people of Oakdale. The falls were not very high. But they
were churned to whiteness by tumbling down a rocky glen and so had been
named because of their resemblance to thick buttermilk.
Around the falls were patches of woodland and meadows and in these
Margie, Lucy and several of their girl friends were soon having fun;
playing games, running about and finding shady places in which to rest.
Noon came and there was a general gathering of the picnic party to
where their lunches had been left under a rustic shelter. The woods
and fields around Buttermilk Falls were maintained by the Oakdale
authorities as a public park. Tables and benches were provided for
picnic parties and there were several stone fire places where potatoes
could be roasted and sausages broiled.
“But it’s too hot to cook anything today,” Margie had decided. Lucy had
agreed with her so they had brought only a cold lunch with them. This
lunch they now picked up at the rustic shelter and took it to a shady
spot along the little stream that flowed away from the foot of the
falls.
“Oh, isn’t it lovely here!” exclaimed Lucy as she put her lunch down on
the grass.
“It’s the nicest place!” agreed Margie. She, too, laid down her package
of lunch for a moment to open a thermos bottle of lemonade she had
brought.
The girls were about to eat their lunches when a sudden scream from a
group of their chums near the falls made them look up.
“Oh, Nellie has fallen in!” some one cried.
Margie and Lucy rushed to the scene of the accident. But it was a very
slight one. A little girl, leaning over the edge of the stream to wash
her hands, had toppled in. The water was shallow and Mrs. Watson, one
of the ladies who had accompanied the girls, soon pulled Nellie out.
She was wet but not harmed.
“You must be more careful, my dear,” said Mrs. Watson.
“But I couldn’t help it,” Nellie said. “Something scared me.”
“Something scared you! What?”
“A big animal right across the brook. He looked at me with such big
eyes and then I fell in!”
Some of the girls laughed. But Margie and Lucy glanced at one another
in a knowing way and Lucy said:
“It must have been that deer!”
“I believe it was!” agreed Margie. “How queer!”