THE CRIPPLE BUSINESS SEEMS TO BE CONTAGIOUS.
Of course these words from their comrade gave the other three Boy Scouts
quite a shock. Giraffe was on his knees by the fire, and he immediately
started to crane his neck, twisting his head in every direction. Step Hen
very wisely first of all removed the little extra coffee-pot they had
brought along, and set it safely on the ground, before scrambling to his
feet.
Thad was already hurrying off. Not knowing what Allan meant by being in a
"trap" the sagacious scoutmaster made sure to carry his gun along with
him. And seeing this, the other two did likewise. In that wonderful
country so close to the mountains, there was no telling what sudden
necessity might arise for a means of defense.
"Where are you, Allan?" called Thad.
The woods were partly in darkness. It was possible to see the tree
trunks, but all else seemed vague. This, of course, was partly caused by
the fact of the boys having had their eyes dazzled by the glowing fire.
Had they stood there for ten minutes, until used to the semi-gloom,
doubtless they could have distinguished objects around them much more
readily.
"This way!" came in Allan's voice, and rather close by. "No great hurry,
boys; but I've tried to get out myself, and can't turn around so as to
reach the spring, and step on it with the other foot."
"Spring!" echoed Giraffe.
"Yes, because I'm held fast in the grip of an old rusty bear trap, that
must have been left here last season by the trappers," said Allan.
"Well! what d'ye think about that?" exclaimed Giraffe.
They were now close to where Allan could be seen standing up.
"Are you hurt much, Allan?" demanded Thad, horrified at the idea of the
other having a badly-mangled leg.
"Oh! it hurts some, but I guess the old trap must have a pretty weak set
of springs, and that's why they purposely left it behind. But if it
didn't get a bear, it caught me by the leg, all right."
"Which leg?" demanded Step Hen, quickly; but Thad spoke up before the
question could be answered.
"Hadn't we better have some light here to work by, Allan?" he asked.
"I should say it wouldn't be a bad idea, because there are two springs,
and they ought to be held down at the same time," the victim of the trap
answered.
"How about it, Giraffe?" asked the patrol leader.
"Do you want a torch?" exclaimed the fire builder, eagerly. "Oh! just
give me a minute or so, and I'll fix you out quick."
With that he whirled around in his tracks, and started to go back toward
the fire, with great bounds, that would have done credit to a leaping
deer. When those long "spindle" legs of Giraffe got to working properly,
they were capable of covering ground at a tremendous rate. And if he had
a few stitches of pain, because of that bad stone bruise, Giraffe paid
little attention to it, so engrossed was he in carrying out the order to
get a torch.
"I hope you're not hurt much, Allan?" said Thad, solicitously, as he
reached the side of his chum, and began feeling for the trap with both
hands.
"It isn't as comfortable as it might be," admitted the other, with a
nervous little laugh, "and I guess I'll have to join the ranks of the
limpers for a few days; but then, think how much worse it might have
been, Thad."
"You mean if the trap had been new instead of worn out, Allen?"
"Yes, that's it, with the springs good, and strong enough to hold even a
big bear. Whew! I guess I'm some lucky at that. And then, if I didn't
have a lot of splendid chums close at hand to help me, I might have a
tough time getting out myself; because, you see, they staked the old trap
down to the ground, and I just don't seem able to turn far enough to get
at the second spring."
"I warrant you've been trying, all right," suggested Thad.
"You just bet I have," chuckled Allan, "for five minutes or so, turning
and twisting. You see, I didn't want the rest of you to know how I'd
stepped plumb into an old bear trap, hidden under the dead leaves here."
"But of course you couldn't make it?" Thad continued, watching Giraffe
waving a blazing brand about his head to induce it to flame up better, as
he left the fire, and started toward the others.
"Had to own up at last," admitted Allan, "because it hurt badly every
time I tried to turn around. But now it will be all right; for here's
Giraffe and his light."
"A good torch she is, too," declared the long scout, coming up just then;
"burns just like that fat pine or light wood we had down in North
Carolina. My! what an immense trap. It must pinch that leg of yours some,
Allan."
"Get around on that side, Step Hen," ordered Thad, "and be sure, once you
stand on the spring, not to get off until I give the word; because if you
did, it will close the jaws as quick as that, and perhaps do more
damage."
"Reckon I understand, Thad," said Step Hen, starting to follow out
directions.
"And you, Giraffe, hold the light so both of us can see," continued Thad.
"There, steady now. All ready. Step Hen?"
"Sure."
"Then push down hard and steady. There she comes!"
Allan had taken hold of the jaws of the old bear trap, and no sooner did
the pressure exerted by the two side springs cease, than he was able to
push them wide apart.
He immediately snatched his leg out of the trap, and no sooner had he
done so than he rolled over on the ground.
"Oh! my stars!" exclaimed Step Hen, "he's hurt more'n he knows of. What
if he's got a broken leg? Wouldn't we be in a nice pickle though?"
"It isn't so bad as that, boys," said Allan, who was feeling of the calf
of his leg as he lay on his back, "though it hurts quite some. But help
me up, Thad, and we'll get to the fire. By the time I've used my leg a
little, and you get some of that magic liniment soaked on the spot, I
guess I'll make out, and be able to start when the rest of you do."
Allan was full of pluck. Moreover, he was an unusually hardy boy, for he
had always spent a good part of his time outdoors; and there is nothing
more calculated to build up a lad's system than that.
He limped some, of course, as he headed toward the fire; but when Allan
put those firm lips of his tightly together, nothing of an ordinary
character at least, could force him to groan, or even admit that he
suffered.
Once by the fire he sat down. Step Hen went on with his simple cooking
operations, while Thad, assisted by the ready Giraffe, started to look at
the hurt.
"Lucky I had on my leggings," remarked Allan. "With those, and my trouser
leg underneath, it made more or less of a bumper. And then again, you
know, traps are never made with teeth nowadays, like they used to be. A
man told me they found that the old style lacerated the leg of the animal
so much, they used to lose a third of their catch; for the fox or the
mink or the otter would either pull and squirm till he'd amputated his
leg, or else gnaw it off."
"Gnaw it off--ain't you romancing, now, Allan?" asked Giraffe.
"Not at all," replied the other. "Why that's often been done, though
trappers are divided in their opinion about it. Some think the animal
deliberately gnaws its leg off, ready to make the sacrifice for the sake
of liberty. Others say that an animal naturally bites at anything that
hurts it; and it's while snapping at the jaws of the trap they keep on
tearing at their wounded and broken leg, till it gives way. Anyhow, there
are always a number of poor three-legged small animals in the woods where
trapping is done. I've seen a red fox that was minus a leg; and I tell
you right now, the way he could get over ground was a caution."
While Allan was talking along in this fashion, doling out interesting
information, he was rolling up the leg of his trousers, though Thad could
see him wince a little as though it gave him pain to do so.
"Only a black and blue place on each side," Allan went on to say, as if
surprised not to discover a worse looking wound. "Funny how that could
hurt as much as it does."
"Here, let me put on the liniment, and then bind it up," remarked Thad.
"You'll find it cooling; and I warrant it's going to help along a lot.
These black and blue bruises are always mighty painful. That's where you
got the blow, and the blood's already settling there. This stuff will
help to keep it moving, for there's witch hazel in it, and that, you
know, is really the extract of hamamelis. How's that now?"
"Feels better, yes, fifty per cent better," declared Allan, as the
amateur scout surgeon fastened the wet bandage snugly with a couple of
safety pins, and started to draw down the leg of the other's trousers, so
the outside covering of canvas legging could be replaced.
After this had all been done, Allan got up, and commenced to walk around.
"Sort of trying out myself, you know, boys," he remarked, laughingly, to
hide any grimace of pain, his actions might be causing.
"How is it?" asked Thad, sympathetically.
"Better than I expected," the other replied. "Excuse me if I limp around
some, boys, but I think it'll let the liniment work in better, to keep it
warmed up. Oh! I've a lot to be thankful for, let me tell you. I'm not
putting up any sort of kick."
"Well," remarked Thad, with a good-natured smile, "all I can say is, that
you fellows are working the family doctor to the limit these days. What
with stone bruises, snake bites, and getting caught in bear traps, I'm
making a big hole in the stock of salve and liniment I fetched along. I
suppose it's going to be my turn next. Perhaps you may have to make a
stretcher, and carry me back to camp with a broken leg, or something like
that."
"For goodness sake, I hope not," exclaimed Allan. "Just imagine the alarm
of the other fellows when a procession of limpers came in sight, carrying
another. And with our chum Bumpus an unknown quantity too."
"What if he got lamed up too; wouldn't that just be the limit?" chuckled
Giraffe, who often saw humor where no one else did.
"Anyhow," spoke up Step Hen, still busy at the fire, and there was an air
of satisfaction in his voice, Giraffe instantly noted, "Allan belongs in
_my_ class."
"How's that?" instantly demanded the jealous Giraffe.
"Well! Just use your eyes, and you won't need to ask so many foolish
questions. Don't you see how he limps when he puts that old _right_ leg
down? Well, it was my right one that got the snake bite. Allan and me
make up the right leg brigade. You'll just have to herd by yourself,
Giraffe--anyhow till somebody else takes a notion to drop in the fire, or
cut his toe with the wood axe, or somethin' like that."
Thad and Allan laughed at the comical way in which the peculiar condition
of things was described by Step Hen.
"Well," said the scoutmaster, "let's hope that won't happen. Better
Giraffe should stay in a class all by himself to the end of the chapter,
than another fellow meet with a serious accident. We've got cripples
enough."
"I guess this ends the run of hard luck," declared the Maine boy, still
keeping up his movements, although perhaps unconsciously favoring the
injured leg, as any one is apt to do under similar conditions.
"Why d'ye say that?" asked Giraffe.
"Oh! you know they always say accidents come in threes," Allan replied,
cheerfully. "The women folks in our house used always to believe that,
anyhow; and this makes three of us hobbling around. If we were at home
now, perhaps we'd be wanting to use crutches; but up here in the woods we
just grin and bear it like true scouts."
"Yes," Giraffe went on, "guess you're right about women folks believin'
in a broken looking-glass standing for coming trouble, and all such
things; though my dad used to say he had all the trouble settle on him in
paying for a new mirror. But honest to goodness, fellers, I remember once
when my maw, she chanced to drop some dishes, and busted two--what does
she do but walks right over to the dresser, gets out a cracked tumbler
she must a been keepin' for just such a time to come along; and I give
you my word, I nearly took a fit when she just deliberately smashed that
down alongside the broken crockery, and I heard her say, says she:
'There! that makes _three_ now!' just as if that ended it."
"Supper's ready," announced Step Hen, when the laughter induced by
Giraffe's little story had subsided.
The coffee tasted just as good as ever. Besides, they had some venison,
cooked in the hunter's primitive way, each piece having been pierced by a
long splinter of wood, the other end being stuck in the ground, so that
the meat was close enough to the red coals to cook without burning--too
much.
Perhaps at home, with a white table-cloth, silver, cut glass, and all the
ordinary "fixings" around them, some of those boys might have viewed the
suspicious looks of those half-cooked pieces of meat with more or less
hesitation. But appetite ruled here, and every one declared it was "just
prime." And if a fellow found that his meat, while scorched on the
outside, was nearly raw in the center, why, you know, all good cook's
unite in saying game should always be juicy and underdone, rather than
dry and overdone--Step Hen had read it in his mother's precious cook-book
at home, and boldly said so.
When they were done eating they just lay around talking and resting. It
was very comfortable, and neither Giraffe nor Step Hen felt in the least
like making any change. But they knew that after a while, when the
determined scoutmaster thought they had rested long enough, he would give
the order that must once more see them limping along the trail, a band of
cripples.
Of course the talk was mostly about Bumpus, and what chances they had
of finding him unharmed. For, despite the faith Thad professed to have
in the extraordinary good luck of the fat scout, there were times when
even his stout heart became a prey to misgivings; and in his mind he
saw poor Bumpus being badly treated by those two bullies, the timber
cruisers.
Latterly Allan had been selecting several good pieces of wood calculated
to burn well, and serve as torches.
When Thad finally gave the word, they prepared to depart. One of the
splinters of wood, taken from a near-by tree that must have been riven by
a bolt of lightning in the recent storm, was lighted. Then they saw that
the camp-fire was carefully put out, after which Allan, bearing the
torch, found the trail, and started off.
They kept this up for over an hour. Not one of them murmured, though no
doubt their lame legs hurt considerably. But they remembered constantly
that they were scouts; and that as such, their ability to stand pain was
on trial.
It was the secret hope of every heart, however, that very soon now they
might discover signs calculated to tell them they were drawing near the
end of their long pursuit of the lost tenderfoot.
The others were glad, therefore, when Old Eagle Eye, as Step Hen
persisted in terming Giraffe, suddenly called a halt.
"I guess I've sighted a camp-fire ahead, fellers!" was what he declared.