BUNK CAMPS OUT.
Bunk’s expertness in climbing served him well. With no trouble he
rapidly ascended the maple, whose trunk was six inches or more in
diameter and whose branches with their soft, green foliage were
interlocked with the more rugged limbs of the immense oak. The lowest
branch of the latter was ten inches thick, and put out horizontally at
a height of ten feet or more from the ground. It would have made a tree
of itself.
When the youth found himself among the foliage he was able to discern
in the fast increasing darkness the main limb. It was so near that,
carefully balancing himself, he swung out and let go of his own
support. The feat was not difficult and he seized the rugged support,
which dipped considerably, but would have sustained a far greater
weight without breaking. He crept over it to the massive trunk. It was
in the crotch of this that he meant to make his couch for the night. He
was too high to be in danger from any roving beasts, unless of the very
largest kind.
“I ’spose an elephant might git me with his trunk, but I could hear him
tramping the leaves and could scoot to the top of the tree. De worstest
am a gerauf; they hab such long necks dat dey can pick de ball off a
church steeple, but if I disremembers right dey doan’ bite, but butt
wid dere horns; dat lets me out.”
Bunk had secured his perch, but the problem of making it a reposeful
bed was a different matter. At first he tried sitting astride of the
limb with his back against the trunk. This answered for a time, but
soon became as onerous as the seat of Harvey Hamilton did when he was
fleeing from the bear. Then he lay forward on his face along the limb,
which he still bestrode. That was very little improvement and he had to
give it up.
“De only way fur a feller to sleep am to lay down,” he exclaimed
disgustedly, “and dat’s what I’m gwine to do.”
He carefully extended his body along the shaggy support, face downward,
steadying himself by grasping a smaller branch which put out from the
larger. Having done this, Bunk held his place for a few minutes and
then in trying to improve it rolled off the limb and dropped to the
ground.
The distance was so trifling that he suffered no hurt though his
feelings were much disturbed.
“I oughter fetched my blanket or laid some boards on de limbs; dat’s
what I’ll do to-morrer if I can find de boards.”
Nothing having been seen or heard to frighten him, he decided to go
back to the cavern and spend his first night with only the partial
protection he could find there. He had not as yet caught a glimpse of
any wild animals and he did not believe he had cause to fear his own
species. So he lay down and slept without waking until day came again.
At the brook which ran near, he bathed his face and hands, and then
climbed to the most elevated portion of the rocks to await the
Professor, who had promised to bring him breakfast. He was ravenously
hungry, as was to be expected, and to his delight he was not forced to
suffer long. The helicopter was really ahead of time and the aviator
proved that he appreciated the appetite of the colored lad, who gave
thanks for his thoughtfulness.
The man was alert and seemed to be in high spirits over the progress he
had made. His manner was so noticeable that Bunk asked:
“How’s yo’ getting along, Perfesser?”
“Splendidly,” was the reply; “everything is going right. I have
completed my compound by which I can keep the machine going for two
days; all that remains is to tune it up so as to be sure of making a
hundred miles an hour. I shall do that to-day.”
“Den we’ll start for Afriky--”
“To-morrow. I must complete a few experiments first, but they are
trifling and will result all right.”
“Dat’s good news,” remarked the happy Bunk, catching the contagion;
“yo’ll find me ready as soon as yo’ am.”
“Have you seen anybody while I was away?”
“Nobody hain’t been near here, but I can look down ober de lake and see
folks afishing and de tent ober on t’other side.”
“If any of them should wander up this way, don’t let them see you. You
will remember?”
“Yas, sir.”
“I must be off, for every minute now counts.”
“Yas, sir.”
The Professor resumed his seat, set the uplifter spinning, slowly rose
in the air until at the right elevation, when he darted southward
like a swallow on the wing. Left to himself, Bunk began preparing for
the tedious hours before him. He was eager to fit up a sleeping couch
in the oak from which he had fallen the night before. He would have
carried out his plan but for one drawback: he had no boards to serve
him.
A bright idea struck him.
“I’ll make a hammock; all I hab to do am to nail de corners on to de
limbs and sleep jest like I do in my trundle bed at home.”
The fact that not a nail was within reach did not deter him. Bringing
the blanket from the cavern he slung it over one shoulder, climbed the
sapling and readily picked his way among the branches of the oak. These
were not placed as he wished, but after a good deal of work, no end of
pains and considerable ingenuity, he managed to fasten the corners by
twisting and tying them around the limbs until he had a fair imitation
of the ordinary hammock with which we are all familiar. True, the
center dipped lower than he wished, and when he gingerly trusted his
weight to it the blanket sagged still more. In fact Bunk’s position was
much as if he were seated in the top of an open barrel with his head
and feet protruding through the opening.
“Dere’s one big adwantage ob dis,” he reflected; “if de thing gibs way
when I’m asleep I’ll drap squar, so I’ll be setting as if I’m in a
chair when I hit de ground. Ef I gits tired I can flop ober; I’ll try
it.”
With some difficulty he squirmed upon his face, with his heels almost
touching the back of his head. The sensation was pleasant at first, but
any unnatural position of the body is sure to become irksome in sleep,
and it was to be feared that the lad would find his plan a failure when
put to the test. He determined to try it, however, and came down to the
ground satisfied with what he had accomplished.
“What the deuce are you trying to do?”
Bunk leaped off the ground and stared at the point whence the startling
question had come. A middle-aged man, carrying a Winchester rifle,
which rested in the hollow of his left arm, his smooth-shaven face
expanded into a broad grin, had evidently been watching his actions for
some minutes. The colored youth was so flustered that it must be said
he did not do justice to himself in his replies.
“Why--why, I hung dat blanket up dere to dry.”
“I don’t see that it is wet.”
“Wal, it will be when it rains and I wanter hab it ready.”
“From the way you acted it looks as if you’re trying to fix up a
hammock among them limbs.”
“Dats it!--dats it! I done forgot de name.”
“Who are you?” demanded the man, looking sharply at him.
“Bohunkus Johnson, sah.”
“A blamed queer name; what brought you here?”
Bunk was on the point of telling the truth, when he reflected that it
might reveal more than Professor Morgan wished.
“I’m hunting deers,” said he.
“Have you killed any?”
“Sartinly; I’ve killed ’leben.”
“Where are they?”
“Laying round in de woods; haben’t yo’ seed any ob ’em?”
“Where’s your gun?”
The man was firing his questions so fast that the bewildered Bunk
floundered into deep water before he could check himself.
“I frowed it away.”
“Why did you do that?”
“I had a fout wid de last buck and broke de lock ober his head; yo’ see
it warn’t no use, so I frowed it ober de rocks.”
“Sure you killed eleven deer?”
“Mought hab been two or free more, but dere war dat many sartin.”
“Well, I’m a game warden and will take you along with me; I’m looking
for just such scamps as you.”
Bunk’s jaw dropped and his knees shook.
“What--what yo’ gwine to do wid me?”
“It’s a thousand dollars fine for shooting a deer out of the season;
twenty years in prison for killing two, and hanging by the heels till
you’re dead for scalping eleven.”
The terrified Bunk collapsed. What a forceful illustration of the
wisdom of telling the truth at all times! He had long been known at
home as one who hated a falsehood, and now when he strayed momentarily
from the right path the penalty was awful. He broke into a cackling
laugh and in a tremulous voice said:
“I war joking, mister; I hain’t killed no deers.”
“I never thought you had; the next time you try to spin an outlandish
yarn don’t make quite so big a fool of yourself.”
With which Jim Haley, who later met Dick Hamilton, turned on his heel
and walked away.
Bunk scratched his head.
“Blamed if I doan’ begin to think Deacon Buggs am right; he allers said
at prayer meeting dat dere ain’t no sense in sticking to a lie when
yo’re cotched in it. Dat feller talked so fast dat I couldn’t git time
to fix up my story. Next time I’ll straighten out tings better.”
With so many hours at command, the youth did more wandering through the
surrounding solitude than before. He took particular care not to meet
any persons because of a well founded fear that he could not withstand
the fire of questions that would be leveled at him. Professor Morgan
had assured him that the grand start would be made on the morrow, and
Bunk must use every precaution against doing the least thing that would
interfere with the plan. It was this dread which caused him suddenly
to turn off when he found he was approaching the smoke of a camp fire
which some party had kindled among the trees. He stole away until
assured he was beyond danger of being seen by any of the strangers,
whose friendship or lack of enmity toward him he could not doubt.
After a time Bunk turned his steps toward the lake, still resolute of
purpose to keep clear of all persons, but he yielded to his curiosity
regarding a canoe which was anchored near the northern end and not far
from shore. In it were seated three men engaged in fishing. In the
stillness he could hear them when they spoke, though he did not catch
the words uttered. The trees, undergrowth and rocks gave him all the
screen he could need in approaching the little party. When he had gone
as far as was prudent, he stopped, still carefully concealing himself.
Suddenly one of them laughed. Something familiar in the sound startled
the lad, who, shading his eyes with one hand, peered intently at the
group. A moment later he gasped:
“Gee! dat am Dick Hamilton!”
Then he recalled what he had heard before leaving home about Harvey’s
brother being on a vacation in the Adirondacks. Without suspecting it,
Bunk had been brought to the neighborhood of his camp, which must be
at the tent he had several times noticed. With this recollection the
shiver of fear quickly passed. His first thought was that Dick had come
thither to take him home and that one of his companions was Harvey. A
scrutiny, however, showed that the other two were strangers. Then he
was comforted by the reflection that it was impossible for Harvey to
know where he was.
This discovery convinced Bunk that he was running too great risk in
venturing so close to the lake. If Dick Hamilton should see him he
would call him to account and take measures to head off that trip to
Africa. Accordingly, he stealthily withdrew and when beyond all danger
of being observed he hurried to his quarters up the mountainous slope.
The question he asked himself was whether he should tell Professor
Morgan what he had learned. He decided there was no need to do so. From
his elevated station he kept an eye upon the canoe in the lake. He saw
at the end of two or more hours that the party were through fishing for
the time. One of them began swinging the paddle, and the canoe glided
southward and turned into the small inlet at the back of the camp,
where it was drawn up the shingle and the trio walked to the tent.
Although the distance did not prevent Bunk from seeing the figures, and
he was sure he could distinguish Dick Hamilton, he was unable to note
their features, and but for the close view he had obtained he would not
have suspected the identity of his friend.
“Dick am more rambunctious dan Harv,” reflected Bunk, “and it won’t
do fur him to know I’m in dis part ob de world. When I come back from
Afriky I’ll tell him de whole story and he’ll laugh as much as me.”