THE SECRET OUT
When he presently managed to reach the spot he was aiming for Toby was
pretty much all out of breath. He had been forced to exert himself
considerably in order to get that last victim; and then came this sudden
call upon his energies.
He stared all around him, but could not see any sign of mischievous
Steve. The trees were for the most part too small to very well conceal
any one behind their trunks, it being every bit second-growth timber.
"Steve, l-l-let up on that f-f-foolin', and b-b-bring me back my
b-b-basket of b-b-bully f-f-frogs' legs, won't you, please?"
Toby called this out fairly loud, having by now managed to partly
recover his lost breath. He waited, and hoped to see the laughing face
of his chum thrust itself into view; but nothing happened.
Then Toby began to grow alarmed. He reached down, and snatched the gun
from its resting-place alongside the tree-trunk; after which he pulled
back both hammers with trembling thumb, while he scanned his
surroundings. His eyes were distended, and there was an anxious glow in
them; just as though the boy half expected that a savage striped jungle
tiger would suddenly make a leap from out the branches of a pine tree
near by, and seek to pounce upon him.
But although he scanned each neighboring harbor of refuge earnestly he
saw not a sign of a yellow form lying on a limb, and watching him
hungrily.
Toby all at once became eager to call his chums to the spot. There
seemed to be a strange mystery attached to this sudden disappearance of
his prized trophies, which he could not begin to understand. One minute
the creel had been here in full view, and when he looked again, lo and
behold, it was gone!
He at least had the good sense to stop long enough before starting to
make sure that he was going to run in the right direction; and then he
used his legs to the best advantage.
All the time he was trying to sprint as though engaged in a road race
with some of the best runners in Carson High athletic circles, Toby kept
looking to the right and to the left, and then behind him; for he more
than half anticipated that this retreat on his part might spur the
unknown enemy on to attacking him.
However, he drew near the camp without anything happening. Now he could
hear the voice of Steve again trolling some ditty, while Bandy-legs
called out to ask Max a question.
This would seem to prove that the whole three of them were there. It
also added to the mystery; because all along Toby had kept saying to
himself he half expected to learn that Steve was absent, and that
neither of the others knew where he had wandered; for this would make it
appear as though after all Steve might be the cause of the strange
vanishing of the trout creel.
But now that prop was knocked out from under Toby's feet. Hence his face
looked pale and somewhat peaked as he hurried over to where the
khaki-colored tent stood, with the smouldering fire close by.
"Hello! here's our frog-hunter come back, and I hope he's met with good
luck in the bargain!" Max called out, and then as he noticed first that
Toby looked somewhat frightened, and second that he was not carrying the
trout creel over his shoulder as might be expected, he went on to
exclaim: "Why, what's happened to you, Toby? Where's your basket?"
Now Toby, as the reader knows, was likely to get his tongue dreadfully
twisted in all sorts of strange knots if he tried to speak in a hurry,
when very much excited. That was just what happened now; and Steve had
to thump him on the back with considerable energy before he made the
accustomed sign that he had succeeded in getting control over his vocal
chords again.
"B-b-basket's gone!" was the shot he fired at them as soon as he could
speak.
"What d'ye mean, Toby!" asked Steve, frowning; "gone and lost my trout
creel in some mud bed, and can't find it again? I ought to be glad you
didn't let the Marlin follow suit."
"'Tain't that!" declared the other, with an in-taking of his breath;
"it's been h-h-hooked, that's what!"
Max saw that he would have to take a hand in the matter so as to get at
the facts without any more delay; for Steve's methods were apt to simply
excite Toby more and more, and that meant a further thickness of speech.
"Tell us what happened, Toby," he said, with the little touch of
authority in his voice that his position as the leader of the party
permitted, and which was always respected by the other chums.
"That's j-just what I want to do, Max," Toby went on to say, after
swallowing once or twice in a peculiar way he had when trying hard to
get a grip on himself. "You s-s-see, I got to leavin' the b-b-basket on
the b-b-bank along with the gun. I had her near c-c-crammed full of the
f-f-finest saddles you ever saw, too. Then just when I g-g-got to next
to the last jumper I m-m-meant to take, s-s-say, when I looked before
throwin' that f-f-frog ashore the b-b-basket wasn't there!"
"Sure you didn't misplace it, Toby?" asked Max, who could not forget
that the other had a little failing in the way of meaning to do certain
things, and then going right off to attempt something just the opposite.
"N-n-not any, Max," persisted Toby, truculently; "she was there
p-p-plain as the nose on Steve's face here, when I threw that third
f-f-frog ashore; but when I looked again, nixey, she was g-g-gone!"
"We'll have to go over there with you, and investigate this thing," Max
announced with a frown. "If there's anybody hiding up in these woods and
trying to play mean tricks on us we want to know it right away. We're
too far off for any of the town boys to be trying to bother us; and I
don't think any country fellow would take the chances of being caught
and pounded. It must be some sort of animal!"
"That's what I thought it was, Max!" Toby declared, not deeming it worth
while to explain how at first he had imagined one of them might be
playing a joke on him.
"Ought we to leave the camp unprotected!" Bandy-legs asked.
"I'll fasten the tent flap, so nothing can get in, and it'll be all
right," Max told him; which intelligence pleased the other very much
indeed, for he imagined that they might hit upon him to stay behind, and
Bandy-legs had as much desire to be in the hunt as the next one.
Accordingly the four boys started on a run toward the distant pond. Toby
led the van, because he had already been over the ground twice, and
ought to know where he was going better than any one else. Still, it was
Max who on several occasions managed to get Toby to veer a little to
the right. He was keeping his eyes on the tracks made by Toby in
approaching the camp; and knew just when the latter deviated from his
former course, as one will naturally lean to the right unless guarding
against this tendency.
Even after they arrived at the water they were compelled to continue on
for quite a distance, because the frog hunter had covered considerable
ground while keeping up his sport.
"There's your fishing pole leaning up against that tree, I think, Toby,"
remarked Max, finally.
"Yes, that's so," replied the other. "I c-c-chucked it there before I
lit out, so's to have a m-m-mark to see when I came b-b-back again."
"And is that the place where you saw your basket last?" asked Steve.
"It sure is!" Toby declared, half holding up his right hand as though he
fancied himself in the witness chair, and bound to give facts exactly as
they were. "And l-l-looky here, will you, s-s-see where the gun stood up
against the tree trunk? Well, the b-b-basket lay over by that clump of
g-g-grass."
Max immediately stepped over and bent down.
"He's right about that, fellows," he announced; "because here you can
plainly see where the basket lay on the ground, for it left an
impression."
"It ought to," burst out Toby, convincingly; "because it was h-h-heavy
enough to m-m-make a m-m-mark anywhere."
All of them could see what Max referred to. The basket had undoubtedly
lain there on the bank. Max looked all around him, then up toward the
tree overhead. In this case the lower branches were at least ten feet
from the ground; and he mentally calculated that no animal, however long
its reach, could have possibly stretched down and secured that basket.
That would mean there should be some chance for discovering telltale
imprints near by. Max was unusually clever with regard to such things;
and always thought of them first when there was a mystery of this kind
afoot.
"Keep where you are, everybody, please, for just a minute or two," he
went on to say; "that is, don't move around more than you can help; and
use your eyes to help locate the tracks left by this _thing_, whatever
it may be."
"Oh! a good idea, Max!" burst from Toby; "now, why didn't I think of
that before I put for the c-c-camp?"
Nobody gave him an answer, but doubtless Steve deep down in his heart
was saying, "Because you were badly rattled, I guess, my boy; and wanted
to meet up with some of the rest of the crowd too much, that's what."
After all it was Max who discovered what he sought. They heard him give
utterance to a low exclamation, as though of surprise; then he was seen
to bend down and closely examine something.
The others crowded close to their leader, and three pairs of hungry
eyes were fastened upon the ground. Toby gave a cry of mingled
astonishment and disgust.
"W-w-why, would you believe it," he gasped, "after all it was a silly
little b-b-baby, and barefooted at that, g-g-got away with the
b-b-basket! Oh! rats!"
Both Steve and Bandy-legs were staring at the plain imprint of a foot,
and such a queer foot too, long and slender.
"Max, what's the answer?" begged Steve; "it don't seem possible that
that track was ever made by any baby like Toby says."
"It wasn't," the other told him, with a smile; "that was a full-grown
monkey, and I should think he would stand about as high as Bandy-legs
here!"
"A m-m-monkey!" echoed Toby, scratching his head; "and that was what
stole our f-f-fine h-h-ham the f-f-first night we camped here, was it,
and threw the s-same at Steve's head? Oh! my s-s-stars, a real live
monkey. I w-w-wonder now if it's got a r-r-ringed tail like Steve said."
"But looky here, Max," interposed Bandy-legs, "monkeys don't eat fish
and frogs, do they? I understood they lived on nuts and roots and
fruit."
"So they do, as near as I can say," acknowledged Max; "although there
may be a species that does eat animal food, though I doubt it. This
fellow has lived pretty much all his life in the circus, and is as
tricky as they make them. He watched Toby here working, and wondered
what he had so good in that basket; so when the chance came he just
dropped down and made away with it."
Toby began to scan the neighboring trees as though he half expected to
see a grinning hairy face projected through the branches and leering at
him.
"But after he looks in and sees what's there, he might drop the basket,
mightn't he, Max?" Steve inquired.
"I think there's a fair chance that way, Steve; and so let's look
around. Each choose a certain territory to cover; but don't wander _too_
far away; and remember our old signal for assembling in a hurry. Whoever
finds the creel give the Indian whoop twice. Once for trouble, and help
wanted. Now scatter!"
They had done this sort of thing many times in days gone by, and were
pretty well trained for service. Following the idea Max suggested, they
headed in four different points of the compass, though the pond being
behind cut out half the circle, and shortened their labors considerably.
Barely three minutes had gone by than a whoop rang out, coming from the
quarter where Steve had gone. The others raised their heads eagerly and
listened, for if no second call followed it would mean that the one who
signalled needed assistance in a hurry. But almost immediately there
came a second cry, proving that the missing basket had been found.
A minute later and they were clustered there, examining the trout creel.
It had been opened, for part of its contents had vanished; but when Toby
began to discover fine frogs' "saddles" scattered on the ground, he
started to collect them in great haste.
"Seemed like the monk must have been disgusted when he opened the
basket, after climbing a tree here, and found that he didn't fancy the
smell of what it held," Steve gave as his opinion.
"And I guess Toby is likely to get about all his frog supplies back
again," Max went on to say, in a satisfied way; "so that none of us have
any kick coming."
"That old sneak fools himself more than a few times, don't he?"
Bandy-legs remarked, as if beginning to see the comical side of the
affair. "First there was the half ham which he couldn't take a fancy to
after he stole it, and now here he's gone and cribbed a lot of frogs'
legs that he throws away. It must be just a habit with him to steal. He
can't help it when the temptation rises. I'd call him a kleptomaniac,
wouldn't you, Max?"
"Yes," Toby hastened to remark, out of his turn, "that's what he must
be, but you'll have to excuse m-m-me from s-s-sayin' the same, because
it'd sure take m-m-me a year of Sundays puckerin' up my l-l-lips to
try."
"Now, if you had a chance to capture a monkey, Toby, it wouldn't be near
so silly as hoping to bag a great big lion, or a strong tiger that could
bat us all over with one stroke of his paw," Steve advised the boy who
yearned to be the proud possessor of a menagerie of his own.
"Well, p'raps I may b-b-before we leave here," Toby calmly went on to
say, "that is, if the rest of you g-g-give-me a h-h-helping hand."
"You can count on that, Toby," Max assured him, for everybody felt
vastly better, now that the worst seemed known; "but since we've found
what was lost, and made an important discovery, let's hike hack to our
camp, where we can talk it all over, and settle on our plan of
campaign."
"Yes," Bandy-legs remarked, "and while that slippery customer is hanging
around here nothing's going to be safe from him. I wouldn't be a bit
surprised if the old sneak had paid a visit to our tent while we've been
investigating up here; and poking his nose into every package we've got
there, hoping to find some peanuts, or something else he likes
particularly well," and this prospect sent the boys on the full run over
the short-cut between the pond where the frogs held their nightly
chorus, and the camp.