A Night in the Woods
“To the shore, Pop!” Roy yelled, realizing that The Pup had seen
them and it would be useless to hope to catch him unawares. “Wait,
Teddy--” He saw that the boy had drawn his gun and that his eyes
were blazing. “Don’t shoot! You may hit the horse! And, anyway, we
don’t want to kill the skunk! We want to capture him, if we can.”
Unfortunately their craft was almost directly in the middle of the
stream, some two hundred feet from the shore. The figure on
horseback had disappeared, but Roy hoped that, due to the tangle of
brush, Marino might not be able to retreat before they could land.
Pop set his teeth and leaned on his paddle, and Teddy did the same.
But they were not working together, and the boat started to swing
crazily.
“Wait till I get in with you, Pop!” Teddy gasped. “This blame
current! It sure is strong!”
Gradually the canoe neared the shore. But by that time all four
realized that their attempt was doomed to failure. The Pup had
surely seen them and had got away.
“I guess we lose,” Roy sighed, while he mopped his face with his
handkerchief, for Teddy’s efforts had splashed him considerably.
“Let up, boys. No use to land now. Besides, those rocks would make
hash of the boat.” He pointed to some sharp-edged boulders along the
bank. “No soap. What a fine time to be in the middle of a river! Bet
The Pup is snickering up his sleeve by this time. It’s a wonder he
didn’t wave good-bye at us,” and Roy laughed bitterly.
“Merry Christmas!” Bug Eye remarked, and looked about him comically.
“I am still among those present. Now, if it ain’t too much trouble,
will you kindly explain this muddle to a poor man what ain’t got his
right health?”
“Do you mean to say you didn’t see him?” Teddy asked in amazement.
“Who? The Pup? I seen nobody, an’ very little of him. I was sittin’
here peaceful-like, maybe dozin’ a bit, as boys will do, when all of
a sudden I hears a yell, gets a free shower bath, an’ wakes up to
see Teddy an’ Pop paddlin’ like a couple of crazy men. Then I hears
some one say ‘The Pup,’ an’ I looks, but don’t see a soul. Now, I
ask you: what happened?”
“Why, we saw Joe Marino!” Roy exclaimed excitedly. “And he was on
the horse he stole from our corral! I spotted him first, and tipped
off Teddy. We tried to make the shore, but the current was too
swift. So I guess he’s plenty far by this time. What a break!”
“Yo’re sure it was him?” Bug Eye asked curiously.
“Positive!” Teddy declared. “I saw him as plain as I see you now. He
was on our bronc, facing the river. Probably just watered the horse.
Then, when he saw us he turned and beat it--disappeared like a
shadow. Pop, you saw him, didn’t you?”
The old puncher nodded forcibly.
“Sure did,” he agreed. “But I was too blame busy to say anything. I
had all I could do to try an’ keep this fool boat straight, an’ I
didn’t make out so well at that. We’re a bunch of dubs, I reckon,”
he admitted reluctantly.
“Well, if yo’re sure you saw him, why don’t you land an’ have a
look?” Bug Eye inquired eagerly.
Teddy snorted.
“What for? Just to see the scenery? Marino is gone by now. We
haven’t as much of a chance as a fish on a desert of finding him.”
“Let’s see! Ain’t that what some one said a while ago?” came from
Bug Eye. “Seems to me I heard a voice say he would try fer the
Border, an’ that this part of the country would see him no more,”
and he looked quizzically at Pop.
“Dry up,” Pop said succinctly. “We all make mistakes. But if you
want to, Roy, we’ll land an’ take a look. Think it would do any
good?”
“Not a bit,” Roy decided. “We’d only waste our time. I wonder if
that waddy could have been following us?”
“Hardly, if he didn’t know we were here,” Teddy replied. “And it’s a
cinch we surprised him, because he ducked like a scared rabbit.
Nope, we just happened to run across him, that’s all. If we had only
been on land!”
“If the cow hadn’t stopped to chase a fly off her back, the train
wouldn’t have hit her,” Roy retorted facetiously. “Suppose we had
caught The Pup? What would we have done with him?”
“Plenty,” Teddy answered. “Gotten some of dad’s four hundred
smackies back, anyway. He can’t have spent it all this soon. Chances
are, he’s got most of it with him.”
“What he ain’t spent fer booze,” Bug Eye interjected contemptuously.
“The Pup ain’t worth the powder to blow him up, though I’d chip in
my little bit to stand part of the expense if any one wanted to try
it,” he chuckled. “Well, I guess you can kiss the money goodbye,
Roy. An’ the bronc too. Whatever you say about The Pup, he sure can
ride, an’ he’ll be ridin’ fer election by now. You boys tired
paddlin’? I’ll spell one of yuh, if yuh wants me to.”
Pop accepted his offer, and once more the canoe slid on toward the
rapids, still many miles downstream. There was much talk of the
possibility of seeing The Pup again, and Teddy was in favor of
unlimbering one of the rifles that lay in the bottom of the boat on
the chance. But Roy vetoed this idea, saying it was very necessary
that they keep the guns dry and clean.
“Those rifles are our dinner-checks, you know,” he added. “When we
land, we’ve got to look lively and do a bit of hunting if we want to
eat. Sun’s almost down. We ought to make camp shortly. Soon as you
see a likely spot, Bug Eye, head for it.”
There was a run of some fifteen minutes while not a word was spoken.
The only sound was the regular dip, dip, dip of the paddles,
propelling the canoe onward. Pop, the extremist, was either so
talkative that he’d “gab the ear off a brass monkey,” to use Nick
Looker’s expression, or else he kept strict silence. Bug Eye was
content to dream of the possibilities of his Fishmobile, and Teddy
was wondering how his father was making out.
“They ought to be about in a line with us,” the boy thought, “though
far back behind those mountains. Hope they reach the cattle about
the time we get there. If that herd has done much wandering--” He
shook his head dubiously.
If they had traveled that far off their own range, there was no
telling how much farther they would go. Teddy hoped they would
travel beyond the danger of the landslide the stranger had told
about.
Roy’s thoughts were in a rather chaotic condition. The discovery of
The Pup had bothered him more than he cared to admit. Why was it he
was headed toward the Whirlpool River Ranch--Jake Trummer’s place?
Of course, it might be that he took that route because it offered
the greatest protection. Unconsciously Roy echoed Pop Burns’
thoughts, and decided that the heavy brush along the river would
certainly be ideal for the concealment of a fugitive.
Presently his cogitations were interrupted by Bug Eye, who called
out:
“How about this place ahead? Me, I’m gettin’ hungry! All right,
Roy?”
“Sure, I guess so.” Roy gazed at the small cove, then nodded. “Fine,
Bug Eye. Get her up close, and I’ll hop out and pull the canoe up.
Steady--”
He leaped to the bank and grasped the bow of the craft. This he held
while the others stood up and tossed the blankets, food, and rifles
on the shore. Then the canoe was drawn up until it was nearly out of
water.
“She stood up well,” Teddy remarked, looking down at the boat.
“To-morrow will tell. We’ll hit the rapids then, and give the ole
raft a good try-out. Oh, baby, I’m stiff!” He stretched high and
wide. “I’d hate to live in a canoe.”
“I’d hate to live in a suitcase, too, but why worry about things
like that?” Roy laughed. “Here, you navigator, see what you find.”
He handed his brother a rifle. “If you catch anything less than
three inches, throw ’em back.”
“Now, by golly, that’s an idea!” Teddy exclaimed. “Fishing with a
rifle. I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never seen it done. I’d like to
try it.”
“How do you mean?” Pop asked interestedly, ceasing from his labors
of untying the blanket roll.
“Why, shoot the fish!”
The old man cackled sarcastically.
“You heard of it, hey? Well, I’ve heard of a willyloo bird, too, but
I never seen any. But go right ahead. Have yore fun.”
“Just to show you it _can_ be done, I will!” Teddy declared, and
strode resolutely to the water’s edge. “What would you like, trout
or pickerel?”
“Chocolate.” Bug Eye responded, with a grin. “Let ’er ride, Teddy.”
The boy peered keenly down at the stream. The others grouped
themselves eagerly around Teddy, while the sun, almost at the
horizon, threw a cloth of gold upon the water.
Suddenly Teddy saw a silver flash about five feet out. He brought
the gun to his shoulder and took careful aim.
Crack!
“Get him?” Pop asked excitedly, forgetting his former declaration of
unbelief.
“Wait a minute,” Teddy grinned. “Give me time. There--what’s that?”
He pointed toward a spot a little out from where they were standing.
Bug Eye gave a yell.
“A fish, sure as shootin’! An’ dead! Teddy, yo’re a wonder! I’ll get
that one for you!” Shoes and all, he waded into the stream and
seized the trout that floated on the surface of the river.
“Boy, it’s a wonder!” Pop exclaimed, as Bug Eye held the fish up for
inspection. The veteran rancher gazed at Teddy and shook his head.
“One too many for me,” he muttered. “You win, Teddy!”
“Golly, it did work, didn’t it?” the young lad marveled, touching
his prize. “What do you think of that, Roy?”
“I think you’re the luckiest boy in seven counties,” his brother
laughed. “But, anyway, we’ve got our supper, and we’ll give you
credit, Ted. Hail to the chief!” and he bowed low. “May he continue
to have much success in his chosen career.”
“It’s the concussion,” Teddy remarked, apropos of nothing. “The
bullet hits the water, and the shock stuns the fish. At least that’s
the technical explanation of the phenomenon,” and he pretended to
choke over the long words. “But I suppose it’s useless to tell you
birds that. Come on, let’s eat.”
Had it not been for the fact that the mission before them was of
such a weighty nature, the memory of that supper underneath the sky
on the banks of the river would have remained in the minds of Teddy
and Roy as one of the happiest they had ever enjoyed. But they could
not entirely throw off the responsibility that burdened them, and
behind all the jests that enlivened the meal was a feeling that this
was superficial, and, at most, a respite. Still, worry does not sit
long on young shoulders, and the occasion was a jolly one.
Supper over, they saw to it that the boat was safe from possible
attacks by the turbulent river. Then, wrapping themselves tightly in
their blankets, the four cast themselves down upon nature’s bed. The
light from their dying campfire flickered eerily, casting strange
shadows. Above them the wind caressed the tree tops, humming or
whistling as trees will.
And far down the stream, under these same stars, rode a man with a
haunted look on his face--a man on a stolen pony and with four
hundred dollars in bills in his pocket.
He heard no whispering winds, saw no stars; the river to him was no
friend, nor could he find comfort in the prospect of a camp by the
side of a stream.
But he soon must stop, for even he must rest and give respite to the
wearily lagging pony.