THE CAMP BY THE WAYSIDE
"Get up, there, you Peter!"
"Give the old sleepy-head another cut with the whip, Jerry."
"No use. He only flips his stub of a tail around, and shakes his head. I
tell you nothing short of a burr under his tail would make old Peter
run, fellows."
"And at this time of year there are no burrs. Oh, well, we're in no
hurry. What if we do have to make a half-way camp? It is a part of the
fun, boys," and Frank lay back on the cargo in the wagon, and laughed to
see the ears of the patient horse wag back and forth as he toiled
stolidly along the rough road.
They had decided not to use their motorcycles on this trip, for several
reasons. In the first place, two of them were in need of a good
overhauling, and of the remaining couple, that belonging to Frank was
the only one always kept in trim. Besides, neither Adolphus, the
colored man working for Mr. Wallington, nor his team, were available for
use, and so they had to hire a rig that was proving very disappointing
to all but Will, who took several fetching views of the picturesque
beast.
Sometimes the boys walked, but when they grew tired they climbed up on
the load, and Peter only wheezed a bit more, as though in protest.
The afternoon was well along by now. They had started just after noon,
and had been foolish enough to believe they might reach the foothills of
the Sunset Mountains by dark.
"Half way there, boys, and I move we look for a decent place to camp,"
suggested Bluff after another hour had lagged along.
"I'm getting a little bit hungry myself," admitted Frank, as his hand
caressed the chest that contained a dozen tin cans with screw-top lids,
and used for holding all such positive necessities as tea, coffee,
sugar, rice, self-raising flour, beans, and other things. It was Frank's
special property, and had been with him on many a trip up in the wilds
of Maine.
"And there's a spot I rather fancy!" exclaimed Jerry, pointing ahead.
Presently the caravan had come to a stop. Poor, tired old Peter was
taken out of the shafts and attended to by Jerry, who could not bear to
let any dumb beast go hungry. Meanwhile, the others hustled about, got
the tents up, and made a fireplace with a couple of big logs, that would
answer for the one night.
"This looks good to me, fellows," declared Jerry as he turned from his
task and surveyed the scene, with pleasure written big on his face.
"I'm never so happy as when putting up the tents, and never so miserable
as in striking camp. There's a charm about it that a fellow can feel,
but never put into words," said Frank, pausing from his labor.
"No danger of a storm to-night, I guess, but I always make it a practice
to provide a runaway for water, in case of a heavy rain. Once I was
flooded out by neglecting that thing, and I don't want it to happen
again," he continued, as Jerry bent down to see what he was digging with
the camp hatchet he carried.
"Look at that sunset, will you!" exclaimed Will, always on the watch for
anything bordering on the picturesque. "What wouldn't I give to get
those colors as they are there! The color screen gives me the clouds,
all right, but a fortune awaits the man who can fix such a glorious
thing as that!"
"Yes; and just to think what will become of all the poor artists then.
They'll be knocked out of business flatter than a pancake," declared
Jerry, who always kept his eye on the practical side of things.
"That reminds me of a promise I made Bluff yesterday," laughed Frank.
"Oh, yes!--that the first night in camp you'd give us some of those
bully old Maine flapjacks you know how to toss up in the air so well.
Boys, don't you let him crawl, now. I insist on him keeping his word!"
cried Bluff eagerly.
"So say we all of us! Tiger! Here's a piece of paper, and while you get
the rest of the things unpacked I'll just amuse myself laying out a bill
of fare for this fine feast we expect to have. That ham there is a
home-smoked one. Dad bought half a dozen from old Farmer Corntassel, and
if ever you taste his hams your mouth'll water at the chance of getting
a slice of that to-night."
So saying, Jerry squatted down on a log and commenced to screw his
forehead up in innumerable wrinkles as he tried to conjure up his menu.
The others were working right along, and when it came time to do the
cooking Frank assumed charge.
"Ain't this great, fellows?" demanded Jerry, as the three sat there
devouring the flapjacks as fast as Frank could pile them up.
"And I'm glad I thought of this honey. Butter is good with pancakes, but
as for me, I like something sweet besides--maple syrup or honey,"
announced Bluff.
"I agree with you in all but one thing, Bluff," said Jerry.
"What might that be?" asked the other, reaching over for his sixth
helping.
"Never, so long as you live, say 'pancakes' when in camp. It may go at
home, but under the free sky, with the tents near by, and the glowing
fire lighting up the scene, it is considered next door to a crime to
call them anything but flapjacks. Get that, son?"
"I'll try to remember; but it's hard to overcome the teachings of
infancy, you know. I admit that you know more in a day than I do in a
week about woodcraft, but I'll never own up that you are physically
sounder than I am. I won out as many times blowing up those beastly old
rubber mattresses as you did," declared Bluff.
Frank and Will exchanged quick looks, and both tried to hide a smile.
On their former trip, Frank had fetched along a couple of wide rubber
mattresses that could be made into comfortable beds after they had been
filled with air. The job of so inflating them had seemed a rather
formidable one to tackle, each and every night, and so, profiting by a
trick he had seen done elsewhere, he tried a little strategy in order to
lighten the burden.
Jerry and Bluff were jealous of each other's make-up. They constantly
boasted as to their superior accomplishments, and so Frank easily caused
them to enter into a competition to see which one could prove a winner
in blowing up the twin rubber mattresses.
The first night it was called a tie. Those eager fellows could hardly
wait for the next occasion to come in order to again engage in rivalry.
On the second attempt Jerry was the winner, but by so narrow a margin
that he could not refuse Bluff's dare to have another try on the next
night. Bluff won this time.
And there was never any trouble about getting the beds made up as long
as the four chums camped on Wildcat Island.
The joke had never been told to them, so that even to this day they
rested in utter ignorance as to what dupes they had been in the hands of
their two chums. Frank and Will foresaw other occasions when they would
be only too glad to have these eager rivals do the "wind act" with
eagerness while they sat by and timed the job.
The supper was pronounced a great success by all, even the cook having a
good word to say for Bluffs coffee.
"Any use of posting a sentry to-night?" asked Jerry, as they lay around,
and a few yawns attested to the fact that they were getting sleepy.
"Well, not unless you think that ghost may be wandering far away from
his usual stamping-grounds. I shouldn't think we could look for any
other trouble out here, so far from the railroad and town," declared
Frank.
"All the same, I think we ought to have some sort of system. It's
generally understood that we intended coming out here, and how do we
know but what that Pet Peters and his crowd may be mean enough to sneak
up on us and stone our camp? They did it before, you remember, fellows,"
protested Bluff.
"I hope you don't think of cracking away at human beings the way you did
at that big yellow dog, Bluff. Please don't get the habit; it's hard to
break."
"Kindly refrain, Frank; or, as Pet would say, 'Aw, come off your perch!'
I'm always willing to give any one of those fellows a good scare at any
time, but you know I wouldn't want to hurt even Pet himself, unless he
forced me," returned Bluff, quickly dropping the gun he had been
fondling so affectionately.
"Well, if you fellows are so bent on trying to prove to Will and I which
one has the biggest lungs, I suppose we'll have to surrender our right
to have a turn at those rubber bags, and let you try again. Help me lay
them out, Will, and don't look so envious. When they get tired of this
thing we can have a chance."
"Don't worry about that, Frank. I shall never get tired of beating Bluff
at that good old game. Just watch me run away from him."
But Jerry, to his surprise, was declared to fall just short of being a
winner, and he had to listen to the taunts of his rival, and determine
that on the next night he would be in better trim.
The fire was fixed to hold out several hours. Bluff, despite his
declaration that he meant to keep awake, and watch, crawled into one of
the tents and snuggled down under a blanket, since the night air was
cool, even for July.
So the silence of slumber presently fell upon the camp by the wayside.
It must have been about midnight when Frank was awakened by a tremendous
neighing on the part of old Peter, the horse, fastened to a tree near
by.
Thinking the beast might have become caught in the rope, and need
attention, Frank crawled out of the tent. The fire was low, and darkness
hovered over the camp.
Just as he appeared, to his astonishment he saw the kettles and
coffee-pot, as well as every frying-pan in camp, begin to creep along
the ground in a long line, and then ascend toward the branches of the
tree, in jangling unison.