THE RASCALLY THIEF
Could any one blame those boys for feeling highly worked up just about
that time when they were hustling to get outside the canvas shelter, and
see what strange things were taking place? The din created by the sudden
fall of the bunch of tin pans was still ringing in their ears. And
doubtless all manner of wildly exaggerated ideas must be crowding their
brains in that same brief space of time.
Each had something to do in the general line of self-defense as arranged
for in case such an event transpired while they slept. There was Jack
holding the gun as became the leader of the flock. Behind, and crowding
close upon his heels, came Steve, bearing his jolly big club, with which
he felt able to flay even a wildcat, and he had quite a notion, too,
along that same line. Toby brought up the rear, not because of any undue
timidity on his part, but because somebody had to "take the drumstick,"
as his father was wont to say when they had turkey, and in this case all
of them could not be either first or second; so Toby guarded the rear.
He grasped the flashlight in a trembling hand, and his orders were to
make use of it just when Jack gave the word.
The night was dark, very dark, in fact. The old moon had not yet put in
an appearance in the eastern sky, which went to prove how aged and
dilapidated it must indeed be to rise at such a late hour. As for the
fire, it was entirely extinct by this time, and not able to render the
first aid in time of need.
Every fellow, upon emerging began to look eagerly around him. Just what
Steve, for instance, expected to discover would be a difficult question
to answer. He may still have had in mind Mrs. Bobcat and her brood of
kits, and half anticipated being called on to offer fight in order to
defend the camp. Anything seemed possible with that brooding and
mysterious darkness hanging over the place. Its sable depths might be
peopled with a great variety of goblins, and unnatural wood folks,
gathered to expel these rash, invaders of their haunts.
After that one general look around Steve focused his sight upon the
particular spot where, as he well knew, the wagon had been standing at
the time they sought their blankets.
Well, it was still there, if that fact could afford him any
satisfaction. He could just manage to dimly make it out in the darkness,
for very little starlight found entrance through an opening aloft in the
interlocked treetops and branches.
Even as he looked Steve felt sure he saw some object move as though it
were possessed of life. That caused him to have another nice thrill that
sent a shiver up and down his spine.
Jack was already starting to creep that way, trailing his gun along,
which weapon he held in such a fashion that it could be brought into use
without the loss of more than a second.
About this time Toby began to forge alongside Steve. He had remembered
that he was the torchbearer of the trio, and on that account had no
business to be hanging in the rear, when Jack at any second might call
upon him to make use of the flashlight.
Strange noises greeted them, of which they could make nothing. Indeed,
Steve was of the opinion that possibly two persons were scuffling over
there by the supply wagon; for he likened the queer sounds to
half-suppressed breathing, and such struggles as wrestlers might indulge
in. He could not make it out at all, nor why two invaders of the camp
should pick upon one another in such a ridiculous manner.
There, that sounded like a blow; and it was immediately followed by a
plain grunt, as though the recipient of the stroke had had his wind
partly knocked out of him.
If only Jack would give the order for Toby to flash his light on the
scene, doubtless the mystery might be explained. But so far he had kept
silent on this score, although still creeping stealthily forward.
Steve, wondering still, and trembling a whole lot in the bargain,
believed he could understand what Jack must have in his mind. He wanted
to get close enough up before betraying their presence, so that he could
cover the pilferers, and let them see that they were in range of a
deadly weapon, so that to run away would very likely get them into a
peck of trouble.
The strange sounds kept up, and in an increased ratio, Steve figured.
Undoubtedly whoever it was making them must be growing more and more
vehement, as though something which was badly wanted managed to evade
his clutch. Even the racket produced by those clanging tin pans had not
frightened the intruder away, which Steve considered most amazing
indeed. He felt sure that had he been invading a camp, and had such a
fearful noise suddenly broke out, he must have taken wildly to his
heels, and made a record run of it in order to escape the consequences
of his folly.
Then Steve caught what was plainly a loud snort, as of triumph. This
gave him a new idea, and which was hardly calculated to increase his
comfort very much.
Why, that was hardly such a sound as a human being would emit, being
much louder, and along harsher lines. Then what else was likely to make
it? Jack had said a considerable number of wild game must exist among
these same Pontico Hills; indeed, on the way there had they not seen a
live doe and fawn; then there was the red fox with the big brush of a
tail that had slunk out of their path while they were making their way
through the woods; and last, but far from least, Steve remembered the
adventure with the wildcat and her kits.
If in the brief space of their stay they had already run across such a
variety of game animals would it not be safe to believe there might also
be other species roaming the woods, and seeking to secure their daily
meals wherever they could find them?
Now Steve had never seen a bear at large, nor yet a wolf at liberty, but
like all other wideawake boys he had fairly doted over these beasts when
held in captivity in the circus or menagerie that annually visited
Chester.
Would a bear, for instance, be apt to make such snorting sounds when
searching the wagon for some prize tidbit that its keen scent told it
was to be found there? Steve believed even this might be possible. He
gripped his club with a firm conviction that there would soon be a
little ruction taking place around that immediate region beside which
the famous Donnybrook Fair in Ireland could never hold a candle, "to use
the language of his own thoughts."
But then, of course, Jack must shoulder the main brunt of the fight,
because he had the gun in his possession. Steve only hoped Jack would be
able to send his first charge straight into the heart of Bruin, so as to
bring him down immediately. That would save them all from a
rough-and-tumble encounter where claws and teeth would be apt to play
havoc with their cuticle, and render their faces far less attractive
than when they left home.
How about the law? Steve asked himself, for it seemed as though in that
minute of time the boy's active brain were capable of grappling with
every sort of question, and finding an adequate answer. Of course bears
were protected in the summer close season; but when a fellow's life was
at stake no game law had a right to force him to lay down and allow a
measly bear to walk all over him, as well as steal his precious grub.
So in a flash of time Steve settled that matter in his mind, all right.
Jack would be acting well within his privilege as a citizen of the State
if he defended his property against robbery. No law could touch him for
doing that; and then besides, they could bury Mr. Bruin down deep, so
that the game wardens would never find a trace of him there.
Steve really felt better after settling this weighty matter. Of course
it still remained for Jack to carry out the provisions of the plan of
campaign; but then Jack was a fellow with steady nerves, and might be
trusted to do his part without a slip-up. Only Steve did rather envy him
the privilege of actually shooting a big, hairy bear; for later on what
a great thing it would be to tell to some of the Doubting Thomases of
Chester. Yes, before burying the defunct beast they ought to remember to
cut off one of his great paws with its ugly claws, so as to have some
trophy to show as positive proof of their story.
Well, while Steve's active mind was fixing all these wonderful details
with so much accuracy they were all three of them creeping along inch by
inch, and drawing nearer and nearer to the scene of activity.
Instead of diminishing the strange sounds actually increased in volume.
They were now accompanied by a crunching, of which Steve could make
nothing, for he was not sufficiently acquainted with the peculiarities
of bears to know how they acted when foraging for food, and climbing
into a covered wagon at that in search of the same.
"Jack!"
That was Toby trying to speak in a whisper, but his voice was wofully
weak, and moreover had a strange tremor about it that at another time
would have made Steve laugh uproariously; but he did nothing of the kind
now, partly because he suspected he could not have delivered himself in
any stronger tones if he had attempted to speak.
"What is it?" came in a sibilant whisper over Jack's shoulder; for he
was only a few feet ahead of the other pair of crawlers.
"Hadn't I better shoot with the flashlight now?" asked Toby eagerly,
showing how he had not forgotten what his line of duty was, in spite of
all the excitement attending their issuing from the tent.
"I'll give you the word right away, so be ready," Jack told him,
cautiously; but the sounds over there at the wagon continued just as
vehemently as before, and it was plainly evident that the thief cared
little or nothing about their presence near by. "He's around at the back
of the wagon, and I'm trying to get so as to cover him properly. Another
six feet ought to do the business, so keep steady, Toby."
"Oh! I'm as steady as a rock!" affirmed the one who carried the
flashlight; but it must have been a very wobbly rock then, if his bodily
condition corresponded with the decided quaver in his shaky voice.
Ten seconds later and Jack suddenly exclaimed:
"Turn the light on the rascal, Toby!"
Toby hastened to comply with the demand. Just as he did so they were
thrilled to hear a flickering whinny, a very sociable whinny in fact,
coming from the rear of the covered wagon. Then as the strong white glow
shot forth they made a wonderful discovery.
The dreadful thief was disclosed in all his grim proportions. He stood
there with his stubby tail switching back and forth, and contentedly
munching great mouthfuls of oats which he had managed to secure from the
gaping sack, opening which had doubtless given him all the trouble and
caused those strange grunts.
Yes, they recognized him as soon as the light fell on his sides, and
Jack instead of raising the gun to his shoulder instantly let its muzzle
drop to earth. For it was only gaunt old Moses, the beast of burden,
broken loose, and hunting the fountain head of what he considered his
too meagre meals.