DISAPPOINTED DUCK HUNTERS.
“Well, I’ll be switched!” exclaimed Hooker, in mingled astonishment and
anger.
Nelson, whose dog had done the retrieving, beamed pleasantly on the
disappointed and wrathy young sportsmen. “Good morning,” he said.
“You’re out for a little shooting, I see. Had any luck?”
“Yes—rotten,” flung back Hooker. “Confound you fellows! you spoiled the
morning for us.”
“Really?” chirped Nelson, in pretended surprise, elevating his eyebrows.
“How was that?”
“You know how,” grated Sage hotly. “You did it purposely, too. But I
suppose it was that pestering, sly, conceited, cheap imitator of
Sherlock Holmes who is really responsible.”
Piper looked aggrieved. “If you’re referring to me,” he said, “permit me
to inform you that I’m not at all pleased by your insulting language.”
“I didn’t intend you should be,” Fred flung back; “and you’d be less
pleased if I could find appropriate words to express my opinion of you.
It was a miserable, low-down trick you fellows played on us this
morning, and you know it.”
“Now hold on,” Nelson commanded, his cheerful manner vanishing. “We
won’t stand for any of that. We’ve as much right to shoot ducks on this
pond as you have.”
“Of course we have,” Piper backed him up; “but Sage seems to have an
idea that he owns the earth—that’s what’s the matter with him.”
Fred levelled his finger at the speaker’s face. “You have annoyed me to
the limit recently,” he grated. “After getting a crazy notion into your
head, you’ve dogged me around constantly. You found out that Roy and I
were coming here to shoot ducks this morning, for, without suspecting
your design, he let you pump him. Straightway, in a highly commendable
manner, you arranged to sneak in here some time in the night, and you
planked yourself on this point, where you could bang away at the ducks
as they flew past, knowing perfectly well that every time you’d fire
into a flock you’d frighten them so that they would not come to our
decoys. A fine piece of work!”
“I say, Sage, you take it hard, don’t you?” laughed Nelson. “Even if we
knew you were coming to the lake, we had a right to do so ourselves. And
as long as you had not possession of this point, which is the only
place, besides the old blind, from which any successful shooting can be
done at this end of the pond, it surely was our privilege to grab it.
Come, come, don’t be a squealer. I’ve always considered you game, but
you’re showing another side.”
“Once,” said Fred, “you deliberately fired at a passing flock when you
must have known the birds were beyond gun-shot. If you did not do that
to frighten them from coming to our decoys, why did you do it?”
“Yes,” cried Hooker, “explain that.”
“We took a chance on bringing one down, that’s all,” said Nelson.
“Oh, don’t bother yourself to explain,” Piper put in quickly. “It’s no
use; they won’t believe you. We’ve got to get home. Let’s not stand here
chewing the rag.”
“A good punching is what you deserve,” snarled Hooker, “and I think we
could hand it to you, too.”
“Permit me to express doubts,” said Nelson. “If you want to try it,
you’ve a splendid opportunity.”
It was a tense moment, for both Fred and Roy had been striving hard to
hold themselves in check, and the insolent defiance of the other pair
was almost too much for them to swallow. It was Sage’s level head that
averted the clash. Knowing someone might be seriously hurt in a
hand-to-hand fight, and remembering that the first football game of the
season would take place that afternoon, he put forth a hand and grasped
Hooker’s sleeve.
“We won’t scrap with them,” he said in a low tone. “They have shown what
they are; let them get as much satisfaction out of it as they can.”
Piper, who had not really relished the prospect of a fist-fight, braced
up wonderfully, while Nelson laughed again.
“You’re showing a little sense now,” said the latter, “which, doubtless,
you’ll realize when you come to think it over. The joke is on you, and
you may as well accept it in that light. It’s too bad you didn’t get
even a shot at anything, but you can’t expect to go home loaded with
game every time you hunt. Some rather pretty birds we have got, eh?” He
held them up tantalizingly, which caused Hooker’s teeth to snap together
and his hands to clench.
“Come, Roy,” urged Sage, “let’s go back and gather up our decoys.”
Reluctantly Hooker permitted his chum to swing him about, and he
muttered under his breath:
“Sometime I’ll even it up with this pair. They’ll get what’s coming, all
right.”
As they were returning for the decoys they heard for a time the voices
of Piper and Nelson, who seemed to be in high spirits, for they burst
into frequent peals of laughter. Finally the irritating sounds died out
as the triumphant duck hunters receded into the distance, following the
old wood-road toward the main highway.
Grimly the disappointed lads gathered up the decoys and returned to the
old camp. Sage was the first to show signs of reviving good nature,
which symptoms at first caused Hooker more or less irritation.
“Perhaps you can take it that way, Fred,” said Roy; “but I can’t. It was
a dirty piece of business, although it may seem very shrewd and humorous
to Piper and Nelson.”
Their blankets being rolled up and everything made ready for the
appearance of Abel Hubbard, they still had some time to wait for the
village constable, and this time they spent discussing the affair.
Suddenly, as if struck by a thought, Fred clapped his hand to his pocket
and drew forth the remnant of a newspaper that had been found in the
camp.
“By Jove!” he exclaimed; “that’s queer. I wish I’d questioned Sleuth
about it.”
“What are you driving at now?” asked his companion.
“It just occurred to me that, after all, this paper may have been
dropped here by Piper, although I don’t quite understand how it could
have been. If so, he must have come here recently—as recently as
yesterday or the day before.”
“Nothing to it,” declared Hooker positively. “He was at school both
those days, and he has practiced regularly with the teams every night.
He had no time to come here.”
“Unless he did so in the night—night before last. But I don’t see why
he——”
“You couldn’t hire him to come here alone at night,” asserted Hooker;
“he’s too big a coward. A great detective should have plenty of courage,
but a rabbit is a lion compared with Sleuthy.”
“He may have had someone with him.”
“If so, it was some fellow we know, and we’ll find out about it. But I
don’t think there’s the remotest chance that it can be so, for he would
have announced the fact when we caught him face to face a short time
ago. It would have served as an excuse for his presence this morning.
Why, he could have claimed that he had come here ahead of us to look the
ground over and plan for a duck hunt. He could have accused us of being
encroachers. Forget it, Fred; Sleuth never dropped that paper in this
camp.”
“Which,” said Sage regretfully, “leaves us just where we were before, up
against a mystery. I’m not going to puzzle my head over it any more.”
“A sensible decision.” nodded Roy. “I’m inclined to fancy you’ve placed
too much importance on that particular scrap of a newspaper.”
Shortly before nine o’clock, as they were sitting on an old log in front
of the camp, they heard the creaking of Hubbard’s wagon, and directly
the constable appeared with the conveyance.
“Mornin’, boys,” he saluted. “What luck?”
“Nothing but bad luck,” answered Hooker. “Some other chaps spoiled our
shooting for us, and we didn’t get as much as a feather.”
“Sho! Now that’s too bad. I cal’late I seen them other chaps. Met ’em on
the road almost to town. They was Jack Nelson and Billy Piper, and they
had some birds. Seemed to feel purty nifty and chipper, too, for they
laughed when they spied me. Told me I’d better get a stouter wagon to
haul in my load, but I didn’t know just what they meant.”
“Those chaps have a perverted sense of humor,” rasped Roy. “They’ll get
it taken out of them some day. Come on, Fred, let’s throw our dunnage
aboard and set sail. I’m anxious to get home to rest up before that game
this afternoon.”