DRAWING THE NET.
Whenever Thad Brewster started to do anything he went about it in a
thorough manner. He was no believer in halfway measures, which accounted
for much of the success that had crowned his efforts in the past, as
those who have read former books in this series must know.
He arranged the beating party in such a way that Giraffe and Davy went
together; Allan had Step Hen for a companion; while the Southern lad
accompanied Thad himself.
Having given the camp keepers a few last instructions, with regard to
remaining on the alert, and listening for any signals such as members of
the Silver Fox Patrol were in the habit of exchanging while in the woods
and separated, Thad led the way toward the upper end of the island.
They found no trouble in arriving there. The river had indeed fallen very
much, and the flat rock upon which the nose of the shanty-boat had been
driven by the fierce current was now away out of the water. Had the craft
remained where it struck it would be high and dry ashore.
The boys would not have been human had they not first of all looked
yearningly toward the shore, between which and themselves rolled a wide
stretch of water. Still, as the sun shone brightly, and the air was
getting comfortably warm, the outlook did not seem anything like that
which they had faced on the preceding morning. And, besides, they had
just eaten a breakfast that at least satisfied their gnawing hunger, and
that counted for considerable.
Thad did not waste much time in looking around, but proceeded to
business. He had already apportioned his followers, so that everyone knew
who his mate was to be.
"Allan, you and Step Hen take the right third; Giraffe, cover the left
side with Davy; and we'll look after the middle," he told them, in his
quiet yet positive way, that caused the words to sink in and be
remembered.
"And in case we run across George and his pal we're to give a yell; is
that the game, Thad?" asked the lengthy scout.
"Our old shout that we know so well, don't forget," he was told. "An
ordinary whoop isn't enough, for somebody might let out that kind if only
he tripped and felt himself falling. If you want me to come across, bark
like a fox three times. In case you get no answer, repeat the signal; and
if that doesn't fetch me, call out my name."
"We're on, Thad; is that all?" Giraffe asked impatiently.
"Go!"
With that they were off, three pair of eager human hounds, bent on
discovering the hiding-place of the tramps who had for so long been
hovering just ahead of them like one of those strange lights in swampy
marshes, a jack-o'-lantern they call it, that keeps eluding your grasp,
now appearing here, and then vanishing, to crop up suddenly in another
place.
To begin with it seemed easy enough to move along. The scrub was not very
dense at the upper end of the island, for some reason or other, but
seemed to get heavier the further they advanced.
Acting on the suggestions of Thad, each couple spread out a little more
as they continued to push on, although remaining in touch with one
another. In this way it was possible to cover more ground than by keeping
close together.
Giraffe was certainly in his element. He kept his gun-stock partly under
his arm, and was ready to elevate the weapon at a second's warning; in
fact, as he prowled along in this way the tall scout looked the picture
of a hunter expecting feathered game to flush before him, which he must
cover instantly, or expect it to place obstacles between, as a woodcock
always will.
Davy did not like to roam along entirely unarmed, and hence he had hunted
up a club, which he gripped valorously. He kept just a little behind
Giraffe, if an imaginary line were marked across the island from shore to
shore. This was because he wished to allow the one who held the firearm a
full sweep of territory in case he found occasion to shoot, or even
threaten.
Now and then Giraffe would speak to his companion, as a rule asking him
to "kindly give a poke in that patch of bushes, where it looks like a man
might find it easy to hide"; or "peek into that hole between the rocks,
Davy--don't be afraid a bear'll come out at you, 'cause there ain't any
such good luck waiting for us."
By giving various signals the boys managed to maintain something like a
straight line as they pushed on. They could see one another frequently,
too, which enabled them to keep from forging ahead in any one place.
"Listen to the crows cawing, will you?" Giraffe presently remarked, as
though the noise of the flock might be sweet music to his ears, since it
told of the life in the open which Giraffe dearly loved.
"They're a noisy lot, ain't they?" remarked Davy; "whatever d'ye s'pose
ails that bunch of crows, Giraffe? Would they scold that way if they just
happened to see a pair of hoboes eating breakfast, d'ye think?"
"Well, it might be they would," the other replied thoughtfully; "and come
to think of it they're somewhere down below us, ain't they? Hunters often
know when game is moving by the signs in the sky; for birds can see down,
and they talk, you know, in a language of their own. I've often wished I
could understand what crows said when they scolded so hard."
Just there Davy began to move away from his partner again, as he tried to
cover his share of the territory; so conversation died out temporarily
between them.
They had passed the place where the camp fire burned, with Bumpus and
Smithy watching their movements eagerly. The thick brush now hid the camp
from their sight, and what lay before them they could only guess.
Once more Davy drew close to his mate, thrusting his club to the right
and to the left, in the endeavor not to leave a stone unturned in
clearing up the land.
"Wherever do you think they've gone, Giraffe?" he asked, as though
beginning to feel the strain of the suspense that hung over them, as they
continued this strange hunt for the tramps.
"It's my honest opinion," the other replied, "that we ain't going to see
a sign of 'em till we get away down to the other end. And they didn't
come through here, either, because we'd have run across some sign to tell
us that."
"Then how could they reach the lower end of the island?" demanded Davy
quickly, thinking he had caught Giraffe in a hole.
"Why, they made off to the beach after they got the stuff, and trailed
down that way, which you can understand must have been the easiest, all
things considered," the tall scout went on to explain. "I believe in
applying that old principle, and figgering what you'd have done if it had
been you. And anybody with horse sense'd know it was lots easier tramping
on the shore, to this way of breaking through."
"Still, Thad thought we ought to do it?" Davy remarked.
"Thad was right, as he nearly always is," Giraffe pursued doggedly;
"because this is the only way we can make dead sure. I've got a hunch
that they built a fire and proceeded to cook a warm meal. Want to know
what makes me think so? Well, we had an extra box of matches along, and
that went with the rest of the things. George knew he needed it. Long
before now they've had their fire, and it's all day with that grub of
ours. We'll get it back when we surround the hoboes; but you won't know
it."
"What if they won't surrender when we ask 'em?" Davy wanted to know.
"They'd better go slow about that same," he was immediately told, as
Giraffe shook his head energetically; "we've got the law on our side, you
see, after that pair breaking into the farmhouse the way they did, and
showing themselves to be regular robbers as well as tramps, yeggmen they
call that kind. If I pinked George, after seeing him threaten me, I
couldn't be held responsible for the same. When a man is a fugitive from
justice, and the long arm of the law is stretched out to grab him, he
hasn't got any rights, you understand. Every man's hand is against him,
and he's just got to take his medicine, that's all."
Giraffe had a little smattering of legal knowledge, and he certainly did
like to hear himself talk, given half a chance. Just then Davy seemed to
be glad to learn certain facts, upon which he may have been a little
hazy.
"Didn't I hear you talking with Step Hen the last time you crossed over
to his line; or no, it must have been Bob White, because he's with Thad
in the middle track?" Giraffe asked, a short time later, as once more he
and his partner came into touch.
"Yes, it was Bob speaking to me," admitted the other, "and what d'ye
think, he said he believed he had discovered a bee tree, and only wished
we would be here long enough to get a chance at the honey."
"Well, what next, I wonder?" ejaculated Giraffe, with the air of one who
had received especially good news; "I always did say I liked honey about
as well as anything that grew; but, then," he added, as though seized
with a sudden depressing remembrance, "what good would all the wild honey
going do a fellow when he hasn't got a cupful of flour to make a flapjack
with, or a single cracker to eat with the nectar? Oh! rats! but this is
tough!"
"Anyhow," Davy continued, "Bob, he said the tree was a whopper for size,
and the hive was away up in a dead limb that we couldn't well reach; so I
guess that winds it up for us this trip. And as you say, Giraffe, what
good would just plain honey do a starving crowd? Give me bread before you
try to plaster me with honey. Still, it's queer how many things we keep
finding on this same island, isn't it?"
"There goes another rabbit right now, Davy; and I could have knocked him
over as easy as you please, if I was hunting something to eat, instead of
_men_! They always do say what strange things you do see when you haven't
got a gun; and with us it runs the other way; for we've got a
shooting-iron, but dassen't use the same for fear of alarming our human
quarry."
"You do manage to put things before a fellow the finest way ever,
Giraffe," Davy told him; "and some of these days I expect to see you
making a cracking good lawyer, or an auctioneer, or something that
requires the gift of gab. But seems to me we've been poking like this for
a long time now. How much further d'ye think the island runs?"
"It's some longer'n I had any idea would be the case," admitted Giraffe;
"but I reckon we're shallowing up now. The shore line looks to me like
it's beginnin' to draw in closer, every time I make the beach. If that's
so we ought to come together down at the lower end before a great while
now."
"Say, what if we do get there and never once sight George and his pal,
Giraffe?"
"Aw! don't be trying to get off conundrums on me, Davy; I never was much
good guessing the answer," the tall scout went on to complain. "It don't
seem like that could happen, because they're here on our island, and we
sure haven't left a single place unsearched where a fox could hide. Don't
borrow trouble, my son. We're bound to corral the pair down at the lower
point; and they'll throw up their hands when they see us coming, six
abreast, with guns leveled and all that."
"I hope so, Giraffe; I hope it turns out that way; but I'm not feeling as
sure as you are. Something seems to keep on telling me we're due for a
big surprise, and I'm trying to shut my teeth, so as to be ready to meet
it like a scout should always meet trouble."
He had hardly said the last word when a large object jumped almost under
Davy's feet, upsetting him completely. And as he fell over, nimbly
turning a complete back-somersault, for Davy was as smart at such things
as any circus performer, he managed to bawl out wildly:
"Bear! Bear! why don't you shoot it, Giraffe?"