SIGHING FOR TROUBLE.
"Well, I'm sorry, that's all!" ejaculated Step Hen.
"What at?" demanded Giraffe; "we ought to be puffed up with pride over
our success, and here you go to pulling a long face. What ails you, Step
Hen?"
"It's just this way," muttered the scout addressed disconsolately; "we
never did run across a better chance to have a great time than when we
started out on this hobo chase; and here it's turned out too easy for
anything. Shucks! a tenderfoot might have followed that Wandering George
right along to here; and now all we've got to do is to surround the camp,
and make him fork over that old blue coat the judge loves so well. It's a
shame, that's what!"
"I feel something the same way you do, Step Hen," remarked Allan; "why, I
figured on doing all sorts of smart stunts while we were on this hike;
and here, before a chance comes along, we corral our game!"
"I'm just as sorry as you, suh," observed the Southern boy, with the
accent that stamped him a true Dixie lad; "but I reckon now you wouldn't
have Thad tell us to sheer off, and give the hoboes a chance to run away,
just to let us keep up this chase. We promised to recover that old army
coat for the judge, and for one I'd be ashamed to look him in the face
again, suh, if we let it slip through our fingers on account of wanting
to lengthen the sport."
"That's the right sort of talk, Bob White," said Thad, with a nod of his
head, and a sparkle in his eyes. "Much as we all like the sport of
showing what we know in the way of woodcraft, duty comes first. And we
couldn't shirk our responsibility in this case just to gratify our liking
for action."
"What's the program, then, Thad?" asked Smithy, yawning as though he did
not feel quite as much interest in the chase as some of the others; for
Smithy of late, Thad noticed with regret, was apparently losing some of
his former vigor, and acting as though ready to shirk his duty when it
did not happen to appeal to him very strongly.
"We can have a little fun out of the thing by planning a complete
surround, can't we, Thad?" asked Step Hen eagerly.
"I hope you say yes to that, Mr. Scout Master," added Giraffe; "because
it'll be apt to take some of the sting out, after having our game come to
such a sudden end."
"I was going to say something along those lines, boys, if you had let
me," Thad told them. "So far the tramps have given no sign that they
suspect our being here. We'll arrange it so as to surround the camp, and
then at a signal from me everybody stand up and show themselves. I'll
arrange it so that we'll make a complete circle around the fire, and to
do that we'll move in couples."
He immediately paired them off, and each detachment was told what was
expected of it in making the move a practical success.
Even in these apparently small matters Thad proved himself a capable
commander, for he picked out the most able to undertake the difficult
part of the work, while to Smithy and Bumpus was delegated the easier
task of crawling along the side of the road until they found shelter
close to the hoboes' fire.
Giraffe and Step Hen were ordered to cross to the other side of the road
and, making a little detour, came up from the north. The remaining four
scouts branched off to the south, and it was the intention of Thad,
taking Davy Jones along, to continue the enveloping movement until he
could approach from the opposite quarter, which would mean along the road
in the other direction.
Meanwhile Bob White and Allan would be taking positions to the south, and
then curbing their impatience until Thad had signaled and learned that
all of them were in place.
This was a most interesting piece of work for the boys. They delighted in
just such practices, and for the simple reason that it enabled them to
bring to bear on the matter all the knowledge they had managed to
accumulate connected with the real tactics of scouting, as practiced by
hunters and Indians, as well as the advance guard of an army sent out to
"feel" of the enemy's lines.
At a certain point Thad gave Allan and Bob White the sign that they were
to turn to one side, and begin advancing toward the smoke again, while he
and Davy would keep straight on.
They did not have to creep as yet, but kept bending low, in order to
render the risk of being discovered as small as possible. Later on,
however, as they headed toward the hub of the wheel, which was marked by
the cooking fire, Thad and his companion did not hesitate to flatten
themselves out on occasion, and do some pretty fine wriggling in passing
from one patch of leafless bushes to another.
Every time they raised their heads cautiously to look, Davy would give
one of his little chuckles, telling that the situation was eminently
satisfactory, so far as he could see.
The two men were still hovering over their miserable little fire, which
was such a poor excuse for a cooking blaze that any practical scout must
curl his lip in disdain, knowing how easy it is to manage so as to have
red coals, instead of smoky wood, when doing the cooking.
Davy could see that there was no longer the first question about their
being genuine tramps. A dozen signs pointed to this fact; and he found
himself wondering which of the pair would turn out to be Wandering
George.
He did not see the faded blue army coat on either of them; but then it
would be only natural for the possessor to discard this extra weight when
keeping so close to a warm blaze. Doubtless, the object of their search
would be found nearby, used in lieu of a blanket, to cover the form of
the new owner as he slept in the open, or in some farmer's haystack.
Several of the scouts carried guns, even Bumpus having so burdened
himself in the hope that during their chase after the lost army coat they
might happen to run across some game worth taking, in order to lend
additional zest to the outing.
As Thad and Davy had chosen the longest task in making for the further
side of the hobo camp, they could take it for granted when they finally
reached the position the scout leader had in his eye, that all of the
other detachments must by then have arrived.
To test this Thad gave a peculiar little sound that was as near like the
bark of a fox as possible. Every member of the patrol had in times past
perfected himself in making just that sort of sound, and of course they
would immediately recognize it as the signal of the scout master,
desirous of knowing whether all of them had gained their positions.
There came an immediate "ha! ha!" from across the road, and also from
deeper in the woods, where Allan and Bob White were lying; but none from
Bumpus and Smithy. Evidently, something had happened to cause a delay
there. Thinking they had what they might call a "snap," the two slow
moving scouts covering this quarter had delayed their advance too long,
and were now holding back.
As the tramps, however, had heard those strange barking sounds coming
from three quarters, and jumped to their feet in alarm, Thad did not
consider it wise to delay the exposure of their presence any longer.
Accordingly, he gave a shrill whistle that was well known to the others.
Imagine the consternation of the hobo campers when from behind concealing
bushes they saw figures in khaki rise up, some of them bearing
threatening guns. Even Bumpus and Smithy followed suit, though not as
near the fire as the rest.
Perhaps the first thought of the alarmed tramps was that they were
surrounded by a detachment of the militia, for the sight of those khaki
suits must have stunned them. Before they could gather their wits
together to think of resistance Thad was heard to call out with military
precision:
"Close in on all sides; and keep them well covered, boys!"
At that those who carried guns made out to aim them, and their manner was
so threatening that both hoboes immediately elevated their hands, as
though desirous of letting their captors see that they did not expect to
offer the slightest resistance.
Slowly the scouts came forward, converging toward the common center,
which of course was the smoky fire, alongside of which those two old
tomato cans stood, each secured at the end of a bunch of metal ribs taken
from a cast-off umbrella.
That successful surround would have made a picture worthy of being framed
and hung upon the wall of their meeting room in the home town, some of
the scouts may have proudly thought, as they walked slowly forward,
thrilled with the consciousness of power.
The tramps kept turning around, to stare first at one pair of boys and
then at another lot, as though hardly knowing whether they were awake or
dreaming.
If they had guilty consciences, connected with stolen chickens, or other
farm products, they must have believed that the strong arm of the law had
found them out, and that the next thing on the program would be their
being marched off to some country town lockup.
"Aw! it's too, too easy, that's what!" grumbled Step Hen disconsolately.
"Like taking candy from the baby!" added Giraffe, who always liked to
have some spice connected with their adventures, and could not bear the
idea of being on a team that outclassed its rival in every department; a
tough struggle was what appealed to him every time, though of course he
wanted the victory to eventually settle on the banner of the Silver Fox
Patrol.
"Makes me think of that old couplet we used to say about old Alexander,"
Bumpus here thought it policy to remark, just to show them that he too
hoped there might have been some warm action before the tramps
surrendered; "let's see, how does she go? 'Alexander with ten thousand
men, marched up the Alps, and down again!'"
"Mebbe it was Hannibal you're thinking about, Bumpus," suggested Step
Hen; "but it don't matter much who did it, we've gone and copied after
him. I say, we ought to go home by a roundabout course, so as to try and
stir things up some. This is sure too easy a job for scouts that have
been through all we have."
The tramps were listening, and eagerly drinking in all that was said;
perhaps a faint hope had begun to possess them that after all things
might not turn out to be quite as bad as first appearances would
indicate.
"Thad, it's up to you to claim that coat now, so we can evacuate this
camp," observed Smithy, who was observed to be pinching his nose with
thumb and forefinger, as though the near presence of the tattered hoboes
offended his olfactory nerves; for as has been said before, the Smith boy
had been a regular dude at the time he joined the patrol, and even at
this late day the old trait occasionally cropped out.
Thad looked around at his comrades, and somehow when they saw the smile
on his face a feeling bordering on consternation seized hold of them.
"What is it, Thad?" asked Davy Jones solicitously.
"Yes, why don't you tell us to get what we came after, and fly the coop?"
demanded Giraffe, who did not fancy being so close to the ill-favored
tramps much more than the elegant Smithy did.
"There's nothing doing, fellows," said the acting scout master, with an
eloquent shrug of his shoulders that carried even more weight than his
words.
"What!" almost shrieked Step Hen, "do you mean to tell us that we're on
the wrong trail, and that neither of these gents is the one we want,
Wandering George?"
"That's just what ails us," admitted Thad; "we counted our chickens
before they were hatched, that's all. Stop and remember the descriptions
we've had of this Wandering George, and you'll see how we've been barking
up the wrong tree!"
All eyes were immediately and eagerly focused on the faces of the two
wondering hoboes. At the same time, no doubt, there was passing through
each boy's mind that description of the man who had gone off with the
faded army overcoat, and which had been their mainstay in the way of a
clew, while following the trail.