FORCED TO THINK FOR HIMSELF.
"What time d'ye suppose it is, Thad?"
Step Hen asked the question. Perhaps he was a little tired himself, for
the four scouts had been constantly on the go since early morning, and it
was now getting well on into the afternoon.
They had kept on the zigzag trail left by Bumpus. As a rule it had been
very easy following, and afforded all of them considerable enjoyment,
because Bumpus knew nothing at all concerning the art of hiding a trail,
and would have had no object in doing so, even had he been educated along
this line.
But there were times when it happened that the formation of the ground
interfered to some extent with their making progress, since even Allan
and Thad had considerable to learn about reading signs.
"Oh! about four o'clock," replied Thad, and instead of consulting his
little nickel watch when saying this, he cast a quick glance upward to
where a glimpse of the sun could be obtained through an opening in the
tops of the exceedingly tall trees.
Thus the habit of observation is encouraged in a scout. He learns to
depend less upon the devices of civilization, and more on such natural
resources as the primitive folks enjoyed.
"Let's see how close you came to it," remarked Giraffe, as he took out
the cheap but effective dollar watch the patrol leader carried. "Well,
now, what d'ye think of that for hittin' the bull's eye plumb in the
center."
He held the watch up to show that the hands pointed exactly to four. Thad
laughed.
"Perhaps I couldn't hit it as close as that in a dozen times," he
admitted. "But it's always easy to get pretty near the hour, day or
night, if you only fall into the habit of noticing where the sun, moon or
stars should be. There isn't a time in the night, if the sky happens to
be clear, but what I can tell you the hour within ten minutes anyhow."
"Have we gained any on Bumpus?" asked Giraffe.
At this question the scoutmaster shook his head.
"I'm sorry to say we don't seem to gain any," he remarked. "Where we
picked up some at times, we lost again when the trail got faint."
"Huh! looks like an endless task, then," grunted Step Hen. "Bumpus keeps
tramping along, every day, and when night comes we're just the same
distance behind. Seems to me we'll just never get him at that rate."
"Oh!" replied Thad, not at all dismayed, "we'll just keep at it, you
know. Lots of things are apt to happen to help us. Bumpus will tire out
soon. Then he may get discouraged, and just make up his mind to stay in
camp till we come."
"Which would be a mighty sensible thing for him to do," declared Step
Hen.
"But that wouldn't fetch him his bear," chuckled Giraffe, "and that's the
one thing worth living for with Bumpus right now."
"Mebbe he's got over the fever," suggested Step Hen. "P'raps a reaction
has set in by now."
"Let's hope so, anyhow," remarked Allan.
"And so Bumpus was about here yesterday at four P. M.," said Giraffe,
"Don't I wonder where he is now."
"And what he's doing," added Step Hen. "One thing sure, he hadn't run
across that bear of his up to this point."
"Which I take it was a lucky thing for Bumpus," Giraffe went on.
"Come on, fellows," Thad went on to say, "we've still got the trail in
front of us, and it seems to lead across that boggy stretch ahead. Here's
where he walked along the edge. Then for some reason or other he started
to cross over."
"Which I take it was a fool play for Bumpus," grunted Giraffe. "Chances
are a fellow of his heft would get stuck in the mud and mired."
"Mebbe he thought he saw his bear on the other side," suggested Step Hen.
Thad had plunged in, regardless of the mud. Where Bumpus went it seemed
to be their duty to follow.
"Whew! wouldn't this give Smithy a heartache though?" remarked Giraffe,
when the mud came half way to their knees, and seemed so sticky that it
was only through some exertion that they lifted each foot.
"But, much as he'd hate to do it," Thad observed, proudly, "Smithy would
follow wherever his leader went. He's learned the rules by which all true
scouts are governed, and obedience is one of them. What is it, Allan?" he
went on, as the other uttered an exclamation of dismay.
"Hold up, don't go a step further!" called out the other.
"What's the matter?" demanded Step Hen, getting his gun ready, and
casting a glance up at the branches of the trees as though he half
expected to see a sleek gray panther crouched in a fork, ready to pounce
down upon them.
"Look at the dry mud splattered on the trunk of that tree;" continued
Allan, pointing.
And after they had looked, the four scouts exchanged horrified glances.
"It's a sink hole!" exclaimed Giraffe, turning pale.
"And poor old Bumpus was caught in the mud. He splashed around like a
stranded porpoise, and that threw the stuff up on that tree trunk," Step
Hen went on to say.
"Oh! it can't be as bad as that, can it, Thad?" asked Giraffe in a
tremulous tone, as his eyes remained glued on the treacherous surface of
the bog about the place where Bumpus had been caught and held as in a
vise.
Was it possible their poor comrade could have sunk out of sight under
that smooth deceptive surface? The thought was too terrible.
All at once Thad uttered a cry, and the others noticed that it seemed to
have a little ring of joy about it, rather than gloom.
"Hold my gun and my haversack, fellows," said the patrol leader.
To the surprise of the others he started to climb a tree that had low
limbs some of them not more than eight feet above the surface of the bog.
"What in the dickens is he up to?" exclaimed Step Hen.
"Watch, and you'll see," Allan went on to say.
"Do you know, Allan?" demanded Giraffe.
"I can give a guess, but I don't want to spoil it all by telling," the
other replied. "Both of you stand right where you are, and don't move a
foot ahead, or you may get in the same trouble Bumpus did, and without
his means of crawling out of the hole."
At these mysterious words Giraffe and Step Hen exchanged looks of
amazement. They could not for the life of them imagine Bumpus capable of
doing anything that would be beyond them.
"There, Thad's managed to get to a place just above where Bumpus must
have been stuck," Allan went on.
"He's actually laughing!" exclaimed Step Hen.
"What's struck you as funny, Thad?" called out Giraffe, unable to hold
in.
"Well, as sure as you live, boys, he did it," replied the scoutmaster.
"Did what?" demanded both Step Hen and Giraffe in concert.
"Got out of the muck bed."
"But how could he, Thad? That limb must a been two feet above his head
when he stood there knee deep or more, in the mud. Tell us how?" pleaded
Step Hen.
"Here are the plain marks," Thad went on, "where the bark of the tree was
bruised, as it had a right to be with such a heavy weight as Bumpus."
"Marks!" repeated Giraffe. "Good gracious! hurry up and tell us. Marks of
what, Thad?"
"The rope!" replied the other, still laughing.
"Rope! Bumpus used his blessed old rope to drag himself out of the mud
sink! Well, well, well, if that don't beat the Dutch," Giraffe cried out.
"It reflects great credit on Bumpus," said the scoutmaster, warmly. "He
must have quickly made up his mind that he could only sink deeper in by
keeping up his floundering. Then that nice limb above his head caught his
eye, and he remembered about the rope."
"Bully for Bumpus," cried Giraffe.
"I'm proud to call him my comrade," added Step Hen, warmly.
"It must have taxed him a whole lot to drag himself up," said Thad,
"because he's so heavy, you know."
"A case of 'root hog, or die,' I take it," Step Hen remarked; "and when
he had to face the music Bumpus proved real game. You're sure he made it,
are you, Thad?"
"Heaps of evidence to that effect," replied the other. "Rope's gone, in
the first place. Then here's dried mud a plenty, showing that our pard
was in this tree. I can even see which way he went, by the marks he left;
and he was determined enough to cross the slough, for he kept right on."
"Suppose you follow him in the trees, Thad," sang out Allan, "while we
hunt a better place to cross over without getting mired. We'll join you
later. Give a call when you've landed, and got his trail again."
"Fine," commended the patrol leader. "I'll get busy here then."
He began climbing along the limb, and succeeded in safely passing into
the adjoining tree, just as Bumpus must have done. How the clumsy fat boy
had succeeded in carrying out these capers puzzled the agile Thad, for at
times it tried even his agility to make progress.
But Thad was delighted to know that Bumpus, upon being thrown on his own
resources, could make good.
Before a great while his loud call announced to the others, who had just
succeeded in finding a safe ford across the water and mud, that Thad was
once more on the ground, and ready to take up the trail.
The little party started on again.
Both Giraffe and Step Hen were filled with secret admiration for the
stout comrade whom they had always been in the habit of rather looking
down on as a good-natured fellow, but rather incapable.
"Don't for the life of me see how he ever done it," Giraffe would say.
"Beats everything, and after this we ain't got any business to look on
Bumpus as a big baby. He got out of that hole just fine," Step Hen would
add.
Half an hour later, Allan came to a sudden halt.
"Ashes of a fire!" he remarked, pointing to his feet.
"Then here's where Bumpus must a spent last night?" suggested Step Hen,
looking curiously about.
"Wonder what he had to eat?" remarked Giraffe.
"Oh! plenty of grub," Thad said, laughingly. "Look, here's the rind from
a slice of our ham. Davy said he'd cut some off."
"Think of the nerve of him," declared Step Hen. "But I just can see this
rough experience is goin' to be the makin' of Bumpus."
"Reminds me of the story of the bull pup," remarked Thad, laughing. "You
know, the boy had brought home a young bulldog, and the old man, to
encourage the pup, had gone down on his hands and knees to bark at him,
when the dog grabbed him by the nose and held on like fun. And while the
old man was trying to break away, the boy was sicking the dog on, all the
time shouting: 'Stand it, dad, stand it as long as you can, because it's
going to be the making of the pup!'"
Allen had been bending over the fire while all this talk was going on. He
now looked up to remark:
"Guess he stuck several potatoes in his bag, too, before he started out,"
and he held up a couple of blackened skins, showing that the interior had
been gauged out after the potatoes had been baked in the hot ashes.
"Good for Bumpus, he's learning to take care of himself fast," cried
Thad.
"That isn't all," remarked Allan, smiling.
"What next?" asked Thad.
"Bumpus shows he's bound to be something of a hunter yet," declared
Allan, "and what he learned up in Maine has been in his mind ever since."
"Do you mean about leaving fires burning when breaking camp, and the
danger of the wind carrying the hot ashes among the dead leaves?" the
scoutmaster went on to say, for he had eyes of his own, and had been
watching Allan's actions even while talking with the others.
"That's just what I do mean," the other continued. "In the first place
Bumpus knew enough to make his camp close to running water, so he could
get a drink whenever he wanted it."
"I see he did," Thad went on to say, glancing toward the gurgling little
stream that ran not twenty feet away.
"And when he left here this morning," continued Allan, "he made sure to
carry water from the creek and sprinkle the fire till it was dead. Look,
you can see for yourself that it's been wet down."
"Hurray for Bumpus!" exclaimed Giraffe.
"I can see him passing the examination for a first-class scout some of
these fine days," added Step Hen. "Who'd ever think it of him?"
They pushed on once more, after Allan had even shown them the very stick
on one end of which Bumpus had thrust his slice of smoked ham, and cooked
it, after a fashion. Step Hen put it up to his nose, and vouched for the
accuracy of Allan's assertion.
But all the boys were a little tired, and when it grew too dark under the
trees to see the trail of the lost tenderfoot they eagerly welcomed
Thad's suggestion that they rest up for the night.
So Giraffe was instructed to build a cooking fire at a certain place. It
happened to be in a little natural basin, and here the four boys ate
their supper, over which they talked earnestly, but there was no
hilarity.
Later on while the others were partly done with their meal, Allan left
the circle and said he would take a little stroll. He went up the rise,
as though desirous of seeing what lay beyond.
The moon was about three-quarters full, and hung in the eastern sky; but
under the big trees it was almost dark.
Shortly afterward Allan came hurrying back, declaring that he had
discovered what looked to be a lone camp-fire, at some distance away in
the woods.
"Perhaps it's Bumpus," suggested Step Hen, eagerly, jumping up, although
still hungry.
"Then he didn't go far on the second day, or else he's been traveling in
a circle and got back near where he started out from," said Giraffe.
"Let's head over that way," Step Hen went on to say.
"And surprise him, eh? That's the ticket, boys," Giraffe continued.
"That fire is a good long ways off," warned Allan.
"Don't care if it is."
"It looked like a star at first, and must be on rising ground, where the
trees are more open," the discoverer continued.
"Lead us to it. We want to surprise Bumpus," both the others declared.
"How about it, Thad?" Allan asked.
"It's the only thing we can do," replied the scoutmaster. "If it proves
to be Bumpus, we hadn't ought to take any chances of losing him again in
the morning. If you're all of the same mind, let's be off."
So the fire was carefully extinguished, and Allan led his comrades to the
top of the little rise. Here he pointed out the object he said was a
campfire, although Giraffe and Step Hen believed they would have taken it
for a star low down near the horizon, had they noticed it at all.
After their bearings had been carefully taken, in order that they might
head in a direct line for the fire, they started forth.
By degrees the seeming star grew into a light of the first magnitude, and
finally even the two less experienced scouts were ready to affirm that it
must be a camp-fire.
They kept on going.
"We'll sure give old Bumpus the biggest surprise of his life," chuckled
Step Hen, as they drew nearer the place.
Of course they made some noise pushing along through the almost dark
woods, but then Bumpus would not be apt to hear that. Perhaps the poor
tired fellow was already fast asleep alongside the fire.
A few minutes later, and the boys were very close to the blaze. Giraffe
thrust up his head above the bushes, which he was better fitted by Nature
for doing than any of his comrades.
"Don't see a sign of him about, fellers," he whispered, ducking down
again.
Thereupon the others also raised their heads to look. There was the fire,
burning cheerfully, and showing that it must have had recent care. But
not a single sign of a human being was to be seen.
It was very strange.
"Mebbe he heard us coming, and thought it was a bear," suggested Step
Hen.
"And in that case I guess Bumpus would take to a tree," Giraffe added.
"Perhaps we ought to step out right away, and let him know," came from
Allan.
"I should say, yes," Giraffe went on, "I know for one I'd hate to be
peppered with the loads he carries in that Marlin scatter gun of his.
Hello! there, Bumpus, hold your fire. It's your chums come to look you
up."
The four scouts had arisen to their feet, and were just about to push out
from behind the fringe of bushes, in order to show themselves to Bumpus,
when they were electrified to hear a voice, gruff and surly, and
certainly not that of their jolly companion, call loudly:
"Jest hold up yer hands, you fellers, for we've sure got ye kivered!"