Though no tramps appeared during the night, the sentinels proved to be
useful; for as soon as the day began to dawn, Harry, who was on sentry
duty, called his comrades, and thus they were enabled to get breakfast
early, and to start before six o’clock. They had to wait half an hour
for the first lock to be opened, but after that they had no difficulty
in passing through the other locks. They rowed steadily, taking turns
at the oars, and occasionally fastening the boat to the stern of a
canal-boat, which would tow them while they took a short rest. Early
in the afternoon they reached Fort Edward, where they disembarked; and
Harry and Tom went in search of a team, which they hired to carry them
to Warrensburg, on the Schroon branch of the Hudson.
When the teamster drove down to the bank of the canal, Tom and the
Sharpe boys began to unload the boat. Harry stopped them. “There isn’t
any use in taking the things out of the boat,” said he. “We can draw
her out of the canal and put her on the wagon just as she is.”
“Her stern will dip under when we haul her bow out,” said Tom.
“No it won’t,” replied Harry.
“Let’s take the things out of the stern-sheets, anyhow,” urged Tom.
“All our shoes are there, and we can’t afford to lose them.”
“Nothing will happen to them,” answered Harry, confidently. “It’s my
boat, and I’m going to haul her out with the things in her.”
Tom said no more, but took hold of the bow of the boat with the others,
and they began to pull her out of the water. As Tom had prophesied,
when she was about half-way out her stern dipped under, the water
poured in, and nearly everything in the after-part of the boat floated
out. The harm was done now, so the boys hastily dragged the boat up
the bank, and then began to lament their losses.
There was not a shoe left, except the shoes that Harry and Tom had put
on when they went in search of the team. The mast and sail and two oars
were floating on the water, and a quantity of small articles, including
the tin frying-pans and a tin pail, had shared the fate of the shoes,
and were lying at the bottom of the canal.
“It was my fault,” said Harry; “and I beg everybody’s pardon. I’ll
strip and duck for the things till I find them.” So saying, he threw
off his clothes and sprang into the canal. Joe, who was, next to Harry,
the best swimmer of the party, followed his example; and a number of
the villagers and “canalers” collected on the tow-path to watch the
divers.
The canal was not more than eight feet deep, but the bottom was very
muddy, and the boys had to feel about in the mud with their feet for
the lost articles. They were very fortunate, and before long succeeded
in recovering all the shoes, except one of Joe’s, and several other
things. Meanwhile three women and half a dozen girls, all of whom lived
on board the fleet of canal-boats that were lying near by, joined the
spectators, and seemed to think that the whole business was a capital
joke. Harry and Joe were now anxious to come out of the water; but they
could not come ashore while the women and girls were there, so they
swam some distance up the canal, and crept out behind a barn.
Meanwhile Tom and Jim were busily bailing out the boat, and arranging
the wet things so that the sun could dry them. They were so busy that
they forgot all about Harry and Joe. Presently Tom said, “Hark! I think
I hear somebody calling.”
They listened, and presently they heard a voice in the distance
calling, “Tom! Jim! boys! somebody! Bring us our clothes!”
“It’s Harry and Joe,” exclaimed Tom. “Where on earth are they?”
[Illustration: HARRY AND JOE IN A TRAP.]
They looked up the canal, and finally discovered a naked arm waving
frantically from behind a barn that stood near the water. “They
must be behind that barn,” said Tom. “Why, the mosquitoes will eat ’em
alive! I’ll take their clothes to them right away.” So saying, Tom
gathered up the shirts, trousers, and hats of the two unhappy divers,
and ran with them to their owners. He found Harry and Joe crouched
behind the barn, chattering with cold and surrounded by clouds of
eager mosquitoes. “We’ve been here half an hour,” cried Joe, “and the
mosquitoes would have finished us in another half-hour. I think my
right leg is nearly gone already.”
“And I know I must have lost a gallon of blood,” said Harry.
“But why on earth did you come here?” asked Tom.
“Because the canal is just lined with women and girls,” replied Joe.
“They think it’s a circus; but I’m not going to do circus-acting
without tights.”
The boys hurriedly dressed themselves, and returning to the boat helped
to put it on the wagon; and with the wet shoes hanging from the
cart-rungs they started on their ride to Warrensburg. It was a hot and
tedious ride, and as the wagon had no springs, the boys were bumped so
terribly that they ached all over. They tried to sing, but the words
were bumped out of them in the most startling way; and after singing
one verse of the Star-spangled Banner in this fashion,
“The St-t-tar-spangl-led-led ba-a-an-na-na--”
they gave it up.
About four o’clock they reached Warrensburg, and after getting some
dry sugar to replace that which had been mixed with canal water, they
launched the boat, and rowed up the river. They found it a narrow
stream, with a rapid current and a good depth of water. After their
tiresome ride the smooth motion of the boat seemed delightful, and they
were really sorry when they found it was so late that they must camp
for the night.
They chose a pleasant sandy spot between the river and the edge of a
thick wood. The opposite bank was also thickly wooded, and they felt as
if they were in the depths of a wilderness; though, in reality, there
were houses quite near at hand. They pitched their tent, made a good
supper--of which they were in need, for they had eaten very little at
noon--and then “turned in.”
For some reason--perhaps because the mosquitoes had so cruelly
maltreated him--Joe was not sleepy; and after having lain awake a long
time while the other boys were sleeping soundly, he began to feel
lonesome. He heard a great many mysterious noises, as any one who lies
awake in a tent always does. The melancholy call of the loon sounded
ghostly, and the sighing of the wind in the trees seemed to him like
the breathing of huge animals. After awhile he found himself getting
nervous as well as lonesome, and imagined that he saw shadows of
strange objects passing in front of the tent. By-and-by he distinctly
heard the twigs and branches crackling, as somebody or something moved
through the woods. The noise came nearer, and suddenly it flashed upon
Joe that a bear was approaching the tent. He crept carefully to the
opening of the tent, and putting his head out, saw indistinctly a large
animal moving slowly in the shadow of the bushes only three or four
rods from the tent.
Joe lost no time in waking up the other boys, cautioning them as he did
so not to make the least noise. “There’s a bear close by the tent,” he
whispered. “I’ve been listening to him for a long while, and just now I
saw him.”
Harry immediately grasped the gun, both barrels of which he had loaded
before going to sleep. Tom wished that he had the hatchet, but as it
had been left in the boat, he had no weapon but his penknife. Thus
armed, the two crept stealthily out of the tent to fight the bear,
leaving Joe and Jim in a very unhappy state of mind, with nothing to
defend themselves against the bear, in case he should attack the tent,
except a tooth-brush and a lantern.
The outline of the animal could be seen, but Tom and Harry could not
make out which end of it was its head. “You must shoot him just behind
the shoulder,” whispered Tom. “That’s the only spot where you can kill
a bear.” Harry said nothing, but watched carefully to see the animal
move. Presently it threw up either its head or tail--the boys could
not tell which--and started toward the tent. Harry forgot all about
shooting at the shoulder, but in his excitement fired at the animal
generally, without picking out any particular spot in which to plant
his shot.
The effect of the shot was surprising. The bear set up a tremendous
bellow, and by the flash of the gun the boys saw their dreaded enemy
galloping away, with its horns and tail in the air. Tom burst into a
loud laugh. “Come out, Joe,” he cried. “Your bear’s gone home to be
milked--that is, if Harry hasn’t mortally wounded her.”
Fortunately, Harry had made a miss; and he found his whole charge
of shot the next morning in the trunk of a big white birch-tree.
The innocent cow that Joe had mistaken for a bear was, however, so
thoroughly frightened that she did not come near the camp again.
“I stick to it that it was a bear!” said Joe, as the boys were wrapping
themselves in their blankets. “Cows go to roost at sunset. Suppose it
did bellow: how do you know that bears don’t bellow when they are shot?”
“How about the horns, Joe?” asked Tom.
“There’s horned owls--why shouldn’t there be horned bears? Anyway, I
believe it was a bear, and I shall stick to it.” And to this day Joe
believes--or thinks he does--that he had a very narrow escape from a
ferocious bear on the banks of the Schroon.