THE MYSTERY OF THE PINE WOODS
"What in the dickens can it all mean?" exclaimed Ethan Allen.
"I'm all up in the air about it," admitted Lub, helplessly.
"I heard several shots from guns!" declared X-Ray Tyson, positively
enough.
"Yes, we all did," affirmed Phil; "and there was a howl in the bargain
that sounded to me like that of a dog."
"Whew! I bet you one of their animals has gone _mad_, and had to be
shot!" burst out Lub, in still further excitement.
"What, at this season of the year?" cried X-Ray; "I thought curs only
went mad in the heat of summer, and that was why they called a part of
August the dog days."
"That isn't a fact, is it, Phil?" appealed Lub.
"They used to think so," came the reply, "but of late it's been learned
that the heat has little if anything to do with a dog going mad. Because
they always run with their tongues hanging out people had an idea the
heat affected them. On the contrary the very sight of water causes a mad
dog to go into spasms. It's just a terrible disease, and in cities is
said to be more frequent in winter than in summer."
"The racket has died out now," remarked X-Ray, partly to change the
subject, and hide the little confusion he felt at displaying his
ignorance in his little dispute with Lub.
"And I guess the dog has been killed," Ethan went on to remark; "but it
took a whole lot of gunning to do the job, seemed like. They must have
been pretty badly rattled, those New York City sportsmen who are up here
to run the country about as they see fit."
"I'd like to have seen the affair," observed X-Ray Tyson, meditatively,
as if he might be trying to draw a mental picture of what must have been
an exciting episode; for a mad dog in camp is likely to create
considerable of a wild stampede.
"Excuse me from that sort of fun," Lub protested; "I'm too fond of dogs
to want to watch one running around, frothing at the mouth, and having
to be executed."
"Shot down like a dog, you mean," interposed Ethan; "and I wouldn't be
much surprised if that old saying originated in a mad dog scare."
All seemed quiet and serene once more over in the direction of the other
camp. Whatever the cause of all that shooting and shouting may have
been, it had become a thing of the past, apparently.
"Well, it isn't any of our funeral," X-Ray remarked, with a queer shrug
of his shoulders; "and so I guess we'd better forget all about it."
Lub noticed that Phil did not seem to agree with the last speaker. He
had a serious expression on his face that told of some idea forming in
his brain.
"Perhaps it wasn't a mad dog scare after all," Phil suggested.
"But what else could it have been?" asked Ethan.
"Those sort of sportsmen always fetch lots of liquor along with them
into the woods," asserted Phil; "and it might be one of them had a fit
of _delirium tremens_, so that he even tried to shoot up the camp, and
had to be restrained."
"Well, now, there might be something in that," admitted X-Ray, nodding
his head reflectively. "And p'raps right now they've got a badly wounded
man over there, with no doctor inside of a hundred miles."
"I was thinking of that," ventured Phil; and something in his tone and
manner caused Ethan to instantly leap to a conclusion.
"Were you figuring on going over that way, Phil?" he demanded, "and
offering to help that tough crowd if they needed any assistance, you
knowing so much about looking after gunshot hurts that we often
threatened to call you Doctor Bradley?"
"Yes, I was considering doing that," Phil said, smiling, "though there
might be no necessity for our entering the camp, if we seemed to find it
all serene."
"I take note of the fact," continued Ethan, "that you use the plural
pronoun 'we,' Phil, which would indicate that you meant to have one of
us go along. I'd like to speak for that privilege, if it's all the same
to you."
"Shucks! you beat me out in saying that, hang the luck, Ethan," grumbled
X-Ray Tyson, who was not often caught napping, and therefore felt
additionally sore in connection with this instance.
"Yes, if we think it a wise thing to do, you might as well help me out,
Ethan," Phil told him; at which the Allen boy grinned happily, and could
not keep from casting a side look full of triumph toward X-Ray.
"I don't see that it could do any harm," Lub advanced in his ponderous
way, "if you scouted in that direction. You wouldn't have to brush in on
them unless you saw signs that they were all mixed up, and in need of
the right kind of help. And like as not you'd easily enough be able to
find out what all the row was about, so as to tell us stay-at-homes."
"Come on, let's go, Phil?"
Somehow the idea seemed to appeal more and more to Ethan as he thought
it over. The other camp was only a couple of miles, more or less, away,
and on their snow-shoes they could make it in what the boys would call
"double-quick" order.
Phil looked up at the sky. It was only a part of his customary caution,
and not that he really expected there would be any signs of trouble in
that quarter.
"All right, then, Ethan; get your gun and your snow-shoes. We'll take
that scout and see if we can find out anything worth while."
"I hope both of you keep your eyes smartly about you while you're
passing along through the woods," urged Lub. "A mad dog is a terrible
thing to run across; and for all we know the beast might have got away."
"Ten to one, Phil," sang out Ethan, with a carefree laugh, "poor old
timid Lub here will spend every minute of the time we're away sitting on
a log by the fire with his gun on his lap, and ready to whack away at
any suspicious four-legged beast that shows up."
"Well, can you blame me?" demanded the stout boy; "I read about a fellow
who was bitten by a mad dog, and it's haunted me ever since. I guess I'd
rather be taken prisoner by hostile Indians, and burned at the stake,
than bitten by a dog suffering with the rabies."
He stepped over and securing his gun found a comfortable spot on the log
near the fire. Here he drew the small waif close to his left side, and
looked as though he meant to stay there in that one position as long as
two of the guardians of the shack were absent on their risky errand.
Phil only loitered a couple of minutes to snatch up his camera. There
could be no telling when he might run across a chance to make use of
this. It is like a gun in that respect, for you often see the most
marvelous pictures when you have unfortunately left the camera at home.
They started off with the best wishes of those left behind.
"Course you've thought to put your little medicine-case in your pocket,
Phil?" sang out Lub; "it came in mighty handy down on the Coast, when we
found that young bayman doubled up with pain, after eating some canned
stuff that gave him a little touch of ptomaine poisoning; yes I can see
it bulging out on the left side of your coat. Well, so-long; and hurry
back, because the night isn't so far away, and supper will be cooking,
you know."
The two boys made a bee-line for the other camp. Both of them remembered
its location, from having taken note of the column of smoke so often.
Ethan was doing better work with his snow-shoes right along now, for
there is nothing that serves one so well in this respect as practice.
They had covered the first mile with ease.
"Must be all of half way there, Phil?" suggested Ethan.
"Yes."
"And do we keep straight on as we're going now, or make a little detour
so as to come on the camp from the other side?" continued Ethan.
Phil smiled.
"I see you're up to all the little dodges of the profession, Ethan," he
chuckled, "and are bound to make an A Number One tracker yet. Yes, we
might as well begin to circle some from here on, always keeping in mind
the point we're aiming to reach."
"No trouble at all about locating the camp, Phil, as long as they
continue to burn that half-green wood."
"It does send up a pile of black smoke for a fact," admitted Phil,
looking in the direction his chum was pointing; "and we'll keep an eye
on it as we go."
Of course as they made progress through the bush the boys did not
neglect to observe everything around them. Lub's solemn warning may not
have made much of an impression on their minds, but habit proved strong,
with Phil at least, and it was his custom to be on the alert.
"We're getting in close now," whispered Ethan; "I thought I heard a
cough, then."
"That's right, and I can see the fire beyond that thick bunch of pines,"
was what the other replied, in the same low tone.
Still advancing cautiously they gradually reached a spot where they were
able to look in on the rival camp. The fire was burning, but things
seemed to be rather quiet. At least the two scouts failed to discover
any furious rushing to and fro that would indicate excitement and alarm.
"Looks peaceful enough, Phil, doesn't it?" whispered Ethan, in rather a
disappointed fashion, that would indicate he had felt hopeful the
services of his chum might be needed, and that they could thus heap
coals of fire on the head of the boastful and vindictive Mr. James
Bodman, millionaire sportsman.
"There's one of the guides near the fire," remarked Phil.
"Yes, and he seems to be rather upset over something," pursued Ethan;
"notice how he keeps on looking to the right and to the left. See him
start to hold up his hands then, will you? What in the wide world can
have been going on over here?"
"Seems like a mystery," admitted Phil, still staring at the vicinity of
the camp fire where only that one guide was visible.
"Where d'ye suppose the others all are?" ventured Ethan, keeping his
voice down to the lowest possible pitch, although there did not seem to
be any reason for such caution.
"I suppose in those two shacks we see," came the hesitating answer; and
then the other heard Phil give a little gasp.
"You've discovered something; what is it?" Ethan asked, eagerly.
"They did shoot a dog, it seems, Ethan!"
"How do you know?" continued the other, craning his neck to look.
"You can see it lying there over by the woodpile," Phil told him.
"Great Caesar! so it is, and with his feet up in the air. It's a dead
dog, Phil; no fooling about that."
"Yes, and has been shot, but who did it we don't know yet, Ethan."
"Whew! I wonder if he bit that ugly red-faced sportsman you told us
about, Phil? I don't wish my worst enemy to meet with such a fate, it
would seem as if it might be a judgment on that bully and railroad
wrecker if he did get a good scare."
"Queer where the rest of the party are?" continued Phil; "let's creep
along this way a bit. We may get to a place where we can glimpse them."
"There may have been another dog that got away, and the rest are hunting
for him in the bush right now?" suggested Ethan; but the supposition
could not have struck Phil very strongly for he made no comment.
They made their way along as silently as they could. The soughing of the
wind through the tops of the pines and the larches and the firs deadened
any little scratching sound their snow-shoes may have made as they moved
onward.
It was while they were making this change of base that suddenly without
the slightest warning Phil laid his hand on the arm of his companion,
and at the same time drew him down behind some bushes.
When the startled Ethan turned his eyes upon Phil he saw that the other
had a finger pressed upon his lips. This indicated additional caution.
It also meant that silence was desirable for some reason or other, which
of course Ethan could not immediately fathom.
Then he saw Phil gradually raise his head. He was looking carefully over
the tops of the bushes at something. Ethan, quivering with suspense,
could hardly restrain his natural impulse to follow suit; and
fortunately for his peace of mind Phil just then made a gesture with his
hand as though inviting him to join him.
As Ethan did so he saw his chum extend his hand with a pointed finger.
Looking on a line with this latter digit he made a discovery.
Something was moving near by. In place of a giant tree that had
succumbed to the tempest many years previously, there had grown up a
bunch of suckers, and some five of these offshoots had become quite
good-sized trunks. They were arranged very much like the fingers and
thumb of a partly-closed hand, so that there was a cup which the five
protecting trunks surrounded.
It was just a natural hiding place, and apparently some one was even
then occupying the cup; for as Ethan looked he saw a head projected, and
held there for a dozen seconds, to be withdrawn, and then almost
immediately come into view again.
Whoever the party might be he evidently had his whole attention taken up
with watching the camp, as though it might hold something that had an
important bearing on his condition of happiness and peace of mind.
"He's spying on the camp, Phil!" whispered Ethan, in the other's ear.
"Looks like it," murmured Phil.
"Can it be your fire-eater of a Baylay, then?" was the next thing Ethan
suggested.
"Hardly," replied Phil. "This man is _afraid_; his every action tells
that he's been in a big panic lately, and hasn't recovered."
"Go on, Phil?" urged the other, eager to know what next his chum would
say.
"I think I know who he must be, Ethan."
"Good. Tell me then, Phil."
"Now watch again when he pokes out and take notice of what sort of a
thing he's got on his head."
"There he comes once more, and he certainly does act like a man who's
afraid. But what's this I see? Makes me think of the _chef_ in a hotel;
for he's wearing a white cap without a peak!"
"Well, that's just what he is, the _chef_ these railroad magnates have
fetched up with them to give them the best of meals while in camp,"
whispered Phil.
"But whatever can he be doing hiding that way, and acting as if he was
in mortal fear of his life? If you've got an idea please tell me, Phil."