“Mr. George Burton may think he has a mighty smart dog,” reflected Hoke
Butler, as he picked his way up the small stream, “and he isn’t any
slouch, but there are some things he can’t do, and one of them is to
follow a fellow’s trail through the water. Funny that when Burton shut
us off from the lake he forgot this brook. Since he didn’t mention it, I
have the right to use it.
“Now,” continued the logical young man, “while I keep to the water I
don’t leave any scent; I’m like the fawn which the hound can’t track
through the woods, and when Zip comes to the point where I stepped into
the water, he’ll be up against it—hello!”
He had come to a place where the brook expanded into a pool and more
than fifty feet across. Opposite to where he halted, the foaming current
tumbled over a series of boulders, and then spread out into the calm
expanse, whose outlet was the small stream which Hoke had ascended to
this point. The water lost a good deal of its limpidity, so that the
bottom could be traced only a little way from where he stood.
“That’s bully!” exclaimed the Scout, after brief reflection; “I’ll walk
across the pond—it can’t be deep—and step ashore on the other side,
Zip won’t come within a mile of the spot.”
He began wading, cautiously feeling each step before advancing. Since
the depth was unknown he could not be too careful, though confident that
the little lake was shallow in every part.
Half across the icy water reached to his knees. He pressed slowly on,
thrusting out a foot and making sure of a firm support.
“It ought now to grow more shallow,” he reflected as he felt his way
forward; “when I get to shore I may as well go back to the bungalow and
wait till Zip returns disgusted. I guess Burton can take a joke when
it’s on him, and he’ll laugh with the rest of us——”
At that instant, Hoke stepped into an unseen hole and dropped out of
sight. The sudden clasp of the icy element made him gasp, and when his
head popped up, he spat and struck out frantically for land. It was
remarkable that the only spot in the pond where the water was over his
head was barely two yards across, and beyond it the depth was so slight
that while swimming, one of Hoke’s feet struck bottom. He straightened
up, and strode to land, shivering in his dripping garments.
“Who’d have thought that? I didn’t dream of anything of the kind—where
did _you_ come from?”
This angry question was addressed to Zip, who thrust his muzzle against
Hoke’s knee, looked up and wagged his tail.
“I’d like to know what led you here, when you hadn’t any scent to
follow.”
“It was his nose,” remarked young Burton some time later, when Hoke
having exchanged his wet clothing told his story to the laughing group
on the piazza.
“I left no scent when I stepped into the brook,” replied Hoke.
“Therefore he knew you were in the brook; and set out to find where you
had left it.”
“He had to follow both sides in turn.”
“Not at all; from one bank he could detect, without the least
difficulty, the scent on the other side. He failed to take it up, and
therefore knew you had still kept to the stream. If you had not been in
sight when he reached the pond, he would have circled around it and
nothing could have prevented his discovering your trail within the next
few minutes. But he saw you feeling your way across, and the direction
in which your face was turned told him where you would come out,—so he
trotted around to welcome you when you reached land.”
“Why didn’t he jump in to help me out of the hole?”
“The bloodhound is content to leave that kind of work to his brother the
Newfoundland, and a few others. You are ready to admit, Hoke, that there
are bigger fools than Zip.”
“Yes,—and here sits one of them. Mike doesn’t seem to care to match
with him.”
“There’s where you’re mistook, as Bridget Lanigan said whin she picked
up a red hot poker thinking it was a ribbon she had dropped from her
hair. Come, boys.”
Mike sprang from his seat and addressed Alvin and Chester. There was
much chaffing as the three passed into the bungalow and out at the rear.
Zip had taken his place beside his master’s chair, where he sat with his
long tongue hanging far out, his mouth wide open, and his big ears
dangling below his massive jaws. He manifested no further interest in
what was going on around him, though he must have understood everything.
The agreement with Mike was that the dog should remain on the piazza
with his master and the other scouts until a full hour should have
passed. Then he was to be allowed to smell of a pair of shoes which the
fugitive left behind him. These belonged to Alvin Landon, who had
brought some extra footgear. They had been worn by Mike for several days
when he replaced them with his own, which he had on at the time he left
the bungalow. Thus far everything was plain and above board.
“I don’t know what Mike has up his sleeve,” remarked young Burton; “no
doubt it is something ingenious, for he and his two chums have been
whispering and chuckling a good deal together, but Zip will defeat him
as sure as the sun is shining in the sky. You have noticed that my dog
does very little baying,—or rather, Isaac and Hoke have noticed it.”
“But he gets there all the same,” laughed Rothstein; “I should like to
know what plan Mike has in mind.”
“We shall learn when he comes back and we hear his story.”
Prompt to the minute, Burton directed the attention of Zip to the pair
of shoes that had been placed on the ground at the foot of the steps.
“Find him,” was the command of his master, and the hound fairly bounded
out of sight around the corner of the building. He bayed once as he
picked up the scent, and then vanished like a bolt from a crossbow. The
crowd of Boy Scouts resumed their chat and awaited as patiently as they
could the issue of the novel test.
Meanwhile, Mike Murphy and his two chums set to work to carry out the
scheme which they had formulated, and which each one was confident must
result in the humiliation of the wonderful dog and his owner. With
abundance of time at their command they did not hasten, but walked with
a moderate pace to a point some two hundred yards from the bungalow.
They had straggled along side by side, without trying to make their
trail hard to follow, and now halted.
“This is far enough,” remarked Alvin, as the three peered around without
seeing any one.
His companions agreed. Then Alvin and Mike sat down on the ground and
exchanged shoes. Not only that, but the former stooped and the latter
mounted his back, his arms loosely around Alvin’s neck with his legs
projecting in front and supported by the crooked elbows of his carrier.
Then he resumed his walk with Chester trailing behind.
When the distance from the bungalow had been doubled, Alvin asked:
“How much do you weigh, Mike?”
“A hundred and forty-three pounds—when ye started.”
“I think it is about a ton now; how far do you expect me to carry you?”
“Not far,—say two or three miles.”
“I rather guess not; Chest, it’s time you took a turn.”
“Oh, wait awhile; you have only just begun.”
“This isn’t as much fun as I thought,” growled Alvin, resuming the task
that was fast becoming onerous.
“I’m enj’ying mesilf, as Jerry Dunn said whin he tackled three
p’licemen. When I git tired I’ll sing out, and we’ll make a change.”
Chester’s sense of justice led him soon after to help in shifting Mike
to his own shoulders, and the progress was resumed much the same as
before.
You will perceive the trick the boys were playing upon the bloodhound.
Mike had not only changed shoes with Alvin Landon, but his new ones were
not permitted to touch ground while they traveled a fourth of a mile
through the unbroken woods. Moreover, for this distance the leaves were
trampled by Mike’s shoes, but they were on the feet of Alvin.
The next step in this curious mixup was for Alvin, still wearing Mike’s
shoes, to diverge to the left, while Chester, with Mike on his
shoulders, went a considerable distance to the right, where he halted
and the Irish youth slipped to the ground and stood in the footgear of
Alvin, who was so far away that he could not be seen among the trees.
All this was prearranged, as was that which followed. Mike started off
alone, aiming to return to the bungalow by a long roundabout course,
while the other two came together at a new point, and made their way by
a more direct route to where their friends were awaiting them.
“I wonder that Zip doesn’t show up,” said Alvin, when they caught sight
of the building, and he looked back; “it is considerably past the hour,
and he ought to be in sight.”
“It can’t be he was sharp enough to detect our track.”
“Impossible!”
And yet that is precisely what he did do, and later, when all were
gathered on the piazza, including the dog, who arrived less than ten
minutes after the astounded Mike, George Burton complacently explained
how it had all come about.
“It was an ingenious scheme, Mike, and deserved success, but it did not
bother Zip for more than a few minutes. If a dog can smile, he must have
grinned when he penetrated your strategy. You made one mistake which was
natural.”
“It looks to me as if our greatest mistake was in thinking the pup
didn’t know more than ten times all of us together,” said Mike with a
sniff.
“That, too, was natural in the circumstances, but when you changed your
shoes with Alvin, then was the time you three should have parted
company. Instead, you stayed together, and Zip kept to the trail, for it
was the only one for him to follow. Had you separated, he probably would
have followed Alvin for awhile, but not long. He would have detected the
deception, run back to the point of separation and hit the right one.”
“But he virtually did that afterward,” remarked Scout Master Hall.
“A proof of the truth of what I said. No doubt Zip trailed Alvin for a
little way or until he discovered that the scent had changed and he was
on the wrong track. Then he turned back and hunted out the right one.”
“If that explanation is correct,” said the amazed Mr. Hall, “it proves
that the bloodhound was able to detect the emanations, or whatever it
was that exhaled from Alvin’s feet, and could be differentiated from
Mike’s even though it must have passed through the leather worn for days
by Mike.”
“Unbelievable as it sounds we have to admit it, but,” added Burton, “we
mustn’t lose sight of what doubtless was a contributing factor. It was
not Mike’s shoes alone that told the secret, but his clothes. He brushed
the trees and limbs when carried on the backs of his friends, and while
walking. It was that which was probably the surest clue to Zip, as it
was with Isaac and Hoke, and made it impossible for any one of the three
to mislead the dog.”