STEP HEN LOOKS OUT FOR THE PROVISIONS.
Some little time passed. Gradually the storm was passing away in the
distance, where they could still hear the constant growl and mutter of
the thunder. But those near-by crashes had really ceased.
As the boys were cramped, and becoming restless, Thad saw no reason why
they should not get out in the open again.
"First, I want to look at that leg of yours, Giraffe," said the
scoutmaster.
"Aw! guess I'll manage all right," replied the other, his pride revolting
at such a thing as showing the white feather.
"All the same, it ought to be looked after," persisted Thad. "We can't
afford to take any chances of your being lamed. A stiff leg is a constant
bother. And there's no need of it when I've got liniment and salve and
linen in my haversack, for just such uses. Here, roll up the leg of your
trousers and let Doc Thad take a look. No nonsense, now, Giraffe. It's
orders."
So, protesting still that it "didn't amount to a row of pins," Giraffe
nevertheless obeyed the injunction of the patrol leader.
"There, it is quite an ugly wound, and bleeding too," declared Thad. "And
you might have had a heap of trouble with that same hurt, Giraffe, if you
didn't let me put some salve on. It's an open cut and the liniment would
bite too much. Besides this healing salve is better."
And so Thad soon had a nice bandage fastened snugly about the hurt.
Giraffe frankly admitted that it did feel soothed by the application,
though he still had to limp more or less when he walked, naturally
favoring the lame leg.
"Now we can go ahead again, and find old Bumpus," Step Hen remarked,
after the operation had been successfully finished.
"That's the worst of it all," said Allan, with a disconsolate shrug of
his shoulders, and making a wry face at the same time.
"Worst of what?" demanded Step Hen. "Ain't we going to pick up the trail
at the place we lost it, or back where the old cat hangs?"
"There isn't any trail!" Allan replied.
"What?" ejaculated both Step Hen and Giraffe, amazed by his declaration,
that filled them with dismay.
"The rain washed it all out, you see," Allan went on to explain.
"But--how are we agoin' to find Bumpus, then?" Step Hen gasped.
Again the Maine boy shrugged his shoulders, and there was something very
expressive about the movement.
"Ask me something easy, please? I confess I'm all up in the air. I don't
know how we can find our chum, unless by an accident, later on, we came
upon his fresh trail again, made after the storm. And that's supposing a
good many things, you see, one of which is that he's come out of the
racket safe and sound."
"Whew! strikes me we've got as much chance of running across him as we'd
have finding a needle in a haystack," ventured Giraffe.
"Just about as much," Allan replied, looking downcast.
As long as there was any trail to find, Allan was not the one to give up;
he would hang on tenaciously while a shred of hope remained. But with the
tracks of Bumpus positively washed out by the downpour from the clouds,
it was useless wasting time in looking for any "signs."
Even Thad seemed serious now.
Troubles were accumulating thick and fast, for the missing member of the
Silver Fox Patrol. Though thus far Bumpus seemed to have surmounted his
trials and difficulties, he might have been caught unawares by that
furious storm. And what if he had been tempted to seek shelter in a
hollow tree, not having a wise scoutmaster handy, to warn against the
evil of such a thing? Giraffe and Step Hen felt very uneasy at even the
thought.
They left the vicinity of the ledges, and once more entered the tall
timber. But the others knew that Thad was indulging in no hope that they
could discover any signs of the trail, or follow it, even though an
occasional footprint remained. He had some other purpose in leading them
backward, and they could hazard a pretty good guess as to what it might
be.
There were abundant signs of the storm's passage all around them. Some of
the more slender trees still bowed their heads in the direction where,
far away in the distance, the thunder still growled and muttered. Here
and there the boys could see one that had been uprooted, and either
thrown flat to the ground, or else received in the sheltering embrace of
some neighbor, that held it in a half reclining attitude.
And presently Giraffe gave vent to a loud cry.
"It _did_ strike Step Hen's tree!" he exclaimed.
"Where is it? I don't see the same;" demanded Step Hen.
"Look again. Rub your eyes, and wake up! Don't you glimpse that pile of
branches over there, scattered in every direction?" asked Giraffe.
"Sure I do," admitted the other, "but how d'ye know now that wreckage
came from my tree?"
"Why, that's easy," replied Giraffe. "Notice that shattered trunk partly
standing yet? Well, step this way and you can see where part, only part,
mind you, Step Hen, is left of that hiding-place you wanted to crawl in."
"Oh! my stars!" ejaculated the other scout, when his staring eyes told
him that what his comrade said was the awful truth.
It had been the luckiest escape those four boys would ever know. They
felt a great awe steal over them, accompanied by a sensation of
thanksgiving, as they stood there looking at the ruin of that once proud
king of the woods.
"None of us would ever know what hit us, I guess," said Step Hen,
finally.
"And I reckon I've learned my lesson all right," added the tall scout.
"Just as Thad said, what's a ducking, when you think of taking chances
with a thing like this? I am for a wetting down, every time, after this."
"But what had we better do--head back for camp, and give our poor old
chum Bumpus up for good?" asked Step Hen, dejectedly.
"Not just yet," the scoutmaster replied.
"We've got some grub still," suggested Giraffe, "and can make fires all
right, no matter how wet the wood got."
"Yes, we can stay out for another day or two," said Thad, "and longer
than that, if we think there's any chance of finding him; because we
could knock over some game at the worst."
"But what's the programme?" persisted Giraffe. "Are we going to lay out
some sort of plan, and then follow it up; or just go meanderin' around,
every-which-way, trusting to sheer luck?"
"We'll try and figure on what Bumpus was most likely to do," said Thad,
"and then pattern our plan after that. And later on, you know, we could
give a shout once in a while. If he was near enough to us he might hear
us that way."
"You're right, Thad, and it's a good scheme," declared Giraffe.
"A dandy one," added Step Hen. "And if ever Bumpus hears me ashoutin'
he'll know who 'tis, all right."
"I should say, yes," Giraffe observed, with such a meaning look that the
other took umbrage at once, and flamed out with:
"'Tain't any more like the caw of a crow than your squawk is, Giraffe,
and you know it, even if you used to say so. That's because you was
envious because, outside of Bumpus himself, I could sing better'n any
other scout in the whole troop."
Giraffe made no answer to this taunt. He only looked appealing toward
Thad, as much as to say that he was not to blame for this flare-up.
They walked on for a while, although the going was not so very pleasant,
owing to the fact that the bushes were all so wet, they had to avoid
contact with them.
Allan and Thad conferred as they went, and apparently must have laid out
their plans, for the others presently became aware of the fact that they
seemed to be moving ahead in something like a direct line.
Although they had thus far met with no great success, Step Hen and
Giraffe still felt considerable confidence in their leaders. Thad and
Allan seemed so able to cope with anything and everything that came
along, it was no wonder the others had begun to believe they could
accomplish the impossible.
But when the afternoon waned, and another night stared them in the face,
they had to temporarily forget about Bumpus, and consider their own
condition.
A fire would certainly be needed, for everything around them was still
wet; and as the droppings from the trees had partly soaked their
garments, Thad thought they must dry out.
But a piece of luck came their way about this time that was as welcome as
it was unexpected.
Step Hen happened to be out on the left flank, and suddenly the others
heard the report of his rifle in that quarter. As they hastily turned
that way, it was to see Step Hen dancing madly up and down.
"I got it! I got it!" he was shouting, clawing at his little repeating
rifle in the endeavor to work the pump action, and render it serviceable
again.
"Got what?" demanded Giraffe, running up.
"A deer!" replied the other.
"Yes, you have. Tell us where?" asked the tall scout, incredulously.
"Over back of them bushes. It was just going to jump when I let go. Guess
it dropped in its tracks!" panted Step Hen.
Giraffe gave a mocking laugh.
"We'll soon see if you put a flim-flam bullet into an old stump," he
remarked, derisively, limping forward: and immediately shouting: "Well,
of all the world, if he didn't get the nicest little buck you ever saw;
and shot straight through the heart. No wonder he went down ker-flop.
Step Hen, you're going some. I'll have to look out, or else you'll be
crowding at my heels."
"Beat that snapshot if you can, Giraffe," said the other, proudly looking
down at his quarry.