THE LAST CAMP
'We'll never see Wildcombe Chase to-night, Chippy,' said Dick, as they
stepped along.
'Not likely,' was the reply; 'we've a-lost too much time for that. An'
now theer's that cut. What I say is this: let's mek' an early camp an'
give yer foot a good rest. P'raps it'll feel better in the mornin'.'
'It isn't very bad now,' said Dick, 'only a little sore.'
'H'm,' grunted Chippy, 'so ye say. I know wot a deep cut like that
means. We'll rest it as soon as we can.'
They paused on a triangle of grass at some cross roads and got out
their map. Wildcombe Chase was altogether too far now, and they looked
for a nearer camping-ground. They saw that they were within a mile of
a village, and beyond that a by-way led across a large common. On this
common they resolved to make their last bivouac.
They passed through the village without purchasing anything. They had
plenty of food for supper in their haversacks, and though their tea and
sugar and so on were finished, they did not intend to buy more. Even
to purchase in small quantities would leave them with some on their
hands, and they were not willing to spend the money. It was no mean,
miserly spirit which moved them. Their scout's pride was concerned in
carrying out the journey at as low a cost as possible, working their
own way, as it were, through the country. For the money, as money,
neither cared a rap. It must also be confessed that Dick was rather
keen on handing back to his father a big part of the ten shillings.
Dick remembered the twinkle in his father's eye, when Mr. Elliott
handed over the half-sovereign for way money. The smile meant that he
felt perfectly certain that the two boys would soon run through the ten
shillings and have to turn back. Dick had perfectly understood, and
the more he could return of that half-sovereign the prouder be would
feel.
They pressed on across the common with a distant fir coppice for their
landmark and goal. Such a place meant a comfortable bed for the night,
and as soon as they gained its shelter Chippy cried halt, and forbade
Dick to stir another step.
'It's been gettin' wuss and wuss lately,' said Chippy. 'Ye don't say a
word, an' ye try to step out just as usual, but it's gettin' wuss an'
wuss.'
'Oh, I don't mind admitting it's a trifle sore,' said Dick, 'but it
will be all right in the morning.'
'Hope so,' said Chippy. 'Now you just drop straight down on that bank,
an' I'll do th' odd jobs.'
Dick protested, but the Raven was not to be moved. He forced his chum
to stretch himself on a warm, grassy bank while he made the
preparations for camping that night. A short distance away a rushy
patch betokened the presence of water. Dick pointed it out. 'I'll go
over there and wash my foot,' he said.
'Right,' said Chippy, 'an' dab some more o' that fat on the cut.'
Dick found a little pool in the marshy place, and the cool water was
very pleasant to his wounded foot, which had now become sore and
aching. When he returned, Chippy was emerging from the coppice with
armfuls of bedding; he had found a framework in the rails of a broken
fence which had once bounded the firwood.
'Here, Chippy, I can lend a hand at that,' said Dick. 'There's no
particular moving about in that job.'
'Aw' right,' said the Raven; 'then I'll set plenty o' stuff to yer hand
an' see about the fire.'
Chippy soon had a fire going, and a heap of dry sticks gathered to feed
it. A short distance away a big patch of gorse had been swaled in the
spring. It had been a very partial affair, and the strong stems stood
blackened and gaunt, but unburned. Thither went Chippy with the little
axe, and worked like a nigger, hacking down stem after stem, and
dragging them across until he had a pile of them also.
'They'll mek' a good steady fire for the night,' he remarked. Then he
seized the billy.
'What d'ye say to a drop o' milk?' he said. 'We could manage that, I
shouldn't wonder. When I wor' up in the wood I seen a man milkin' some
cows t'other side o' the coppice, an' now as I wor' luggin' these
sticks back I seen him a-comin' down the bank. Theer he goes.'
Chippy pointed, and Dick saw a man crossing the common with two shining
milk-pails hanging from a yoke. At this warm season of the year the
cows were out day and night, and the man had clearly come to milk them
on the spot, and thus make a single journey instead of the double one
involved in fetching them home and driving them back to the
feeding-ground.
Dick turned out twopence, and Chippy pursued the retreating milkman.
He returned, carrying the billy carefully.
'He wor' a good sort,' cried Chippy. 'He gied me brimmin' good measure
for the money.'
The scouts now made a cheerful supper. Chippy broiled the trout in the
ashes; Mrs. Hardy's sandwiches were very good, and the milk was heated
in the billy and drunk hot from their tin cups.
Supper was nearly over when a small, reddish-coated creature came
slipping through the grass towards them.
'There's a weasel,' said Dick, and the scouts watched it.
The little creature came quite near the fire, loping along, its nose
down as if following a track. Then it paused, raised its head on the
long snake-like neck, and looked boldly at the two boys, its small
bright eyes glittering with a fierce light.
'Pretty cheeky,' said Dick, and threw a scrap of wood at it. The
weasel gave a cry, more of anger than alarm, and glided away.
Within twenty minutes they saw a second weasel running along under the
brake, nosing in every hole, and pausing now and again to raise its
head and look round sharply on every hand.
'Weasels seem pretty busy about this 'ere coppice,' observed Chippy.
'No mistake about it,' agreed Dick. 'Do you know, Chippy, I've heard
that they are always active and running about before bad weather.'
'Hope they've got another reason this time,' growled the Raven. 'Sky
looks all right.'
'It does,' replied Dick.
The two scouts looked to every point of the compass, and raked their
memories for weather signs, and compared what they remembered, but they
could see nothing wrong. The sun was going down in a perfectly clear
sky, and flooding the common with glorious light. There was no wind,
no threat of storm from any quarter: the evening was cool, calm, and
splendid.
'We'll turn in as soon as the sun's gone,' said Dick, 'and be up early
in the morning, and make a long day of it.'
Chippy nodded, and the boys watched the great orb sinking steadily
towards a long bank of purple woodland, which closed in the horizon.
'Wot's the home stretch run out at?' asked the Haven.
'The march in from here?' said Dick. 'Where's the map? We'll soon
foot it up.'
The map was spread out, and careful measurements taken. 'Rather more
than twenty-one miles,' said Dick.
Chippy whistled softly. 'We'd do it aw' right if nuthin' had happened
to yer foot,' he murmured.
'We'll do it all right as it is,' cried the Wolf. 'Do you think I'm
going to let that spoil our grand march? Not likely. I'll step it out
to-morrow, and heel-and-toe it into Bardon every inch, Chippy, my boy.'
'It's a tidy stump on a cut foot,' said the Raven soberly.
'Hallo! what's that?' said Dick, and they looked round.
A furious squealing broke out among the trees behind them, and then a
rabbit tumbled out of a bush, made a short scuttling run, and rolled
over in a heap.
Close at its heels came the bloodthirsty little weasel in full pursuit,
sprang on its prey once more, and fixed its teeth in the back of the
rabbit's head, when the squealing broke forth anew.
Up leapt the Raven and took a hand in the affair at once. He caught up
a stick of firewood, but the weasel ran away and left the rabbit
kicking on the ground. Chippy picked up the bunny and came back to the
fire.
'A good fat un, he cried, 'about three-parts grown. Good old weasel!'
'Very kind of him to go foraging for us,' laughed Dick.
'Ain't it?'--and the Raven showed the rabbit. It was not yet dead, and
Chippy at once put it out of its pain by a sharp tap on the back of its
neck with the edge of his hand. This killed it instantly.
'That's a good breakfast for us,' said Dick. 'We've got one or two
sandwiches left as well.'
'Righto,' said Chippy, and turned to and skinned the rabbit, and
cleaned it, ready for broiling in the morning.
Then they turned in, and were soon off to sleep.
Three hours later the Raven was wakened by something moving and
sniffing about his bed. He sat up, and a creature, looking in the
faint light something like a dog, ran away into the coppice.
Next Dick awoke, aroused by his chum's movements, and heard the Raven
grunting and growling softly to himself.
'Anything wrong, Chippy?' he asked.
'Sommat's been here an' bagged the brekfus',' replied the Raven.
'Was it a dog prowling about?' cried Dick.
At this moment a hollow bark rang from the depths of the coppice:
'Wow-wow! Wow-wow!'
'There it is,' said Dick; 'a dog.'
'No,' replied Chippy. 'I know wot it is now. That's a fox. I'll bet
theer's a vixen wi' cubs in this coppice, an' she's smelt the rabbit
an' collared it.'
'Then I hope that weasel will start hunting again, laughed Dick, 'and
chevy up another breakfast for us.'
'Well, it's gone, an' theer's no use tryin' to look for it,' said
Chippy, and tucked himself up in his blanket again.