Peleg Pinder’s Heavy Load
“Don’t move!”
Tubby knew that when Rob Blake spoke in that tense way he meant what
he said; so, although he felt an inclination to shrink back from
that terrible vision of an enraged bobcat, he managed to grit his
teeth together and hold his ground.
Ralph, Sim and Andy took the admonition to heart as well as did the
fat boy, for they seemed rooted to their tracks, all staring as hard
as they could up into the lower branches of the tree just in front.
The cat could be plainly seen crouching there, with its ears
flattened against its head, after the manner of all enraged felines.
It was a pretty “hefty” specimen of its kind, too, Rob saw, much
larger and more powerful than the ordinary cat.
Undoubtedly, it “sensed” a feast beyond the boundary fence, and had
started to pay a neighborly visit with dinner in mind when
interrupted by the approach of the five boys. Being accustomed to
lording it over other animals in its native forests, the wildcat did
not fancy beating a retreat simply because some of those two-legged
creatures chose to cross its path.
That ominous growl was meant as a warning to them to beware how they
incurred its animosity. From the way in which its haunches had
settled upon the limb, it appeared as though the beast might be in
readiness to make a leap; and it was because of this that Rob had
instantly hissed those words.
At the time it chanced he was just a little in the advance; hence
his position was more inclined to be a perilous one than could be
said of his companions. None of them had any weapon handy with which
to defend themselves in case the animal really attacked them; though
Sim and Andy immediately began to use their eyes to advantage in the
hope of being able to see a club of some sort, always the first
resort of a boy in trouble.
“Tell us what to do, Rob!” urged Sim, who had actually discovered
the cudgel he wanted to possess, yet did not dare make a move toward
getting it in his grip lest by so doing he tempt the savage beast to
spring.
“Stand perfectly still!” ordered the patrol leader. “You can do more
good that way than by moving. If we all just stare at him, he’ll
soon get uneasy, not knowing what to make of such a mysterious
crowd. Animals hate to look into human eyes, they say. I’ve stared a
dog out of countenance that way myself.”
“Huh!” grunted Tubby, remembering how he had once tried that same
game himself with a barking puppy, getting down on his hands and
knees to manage better, only to have the little varmint instantly
seize hold of his nose and hang on.
“How would it do for all to give a big yell together?” suggested
Ralph.
“That might make him jump, I take it,” replied Andy Bowles, wishing
he had his bugle handy, for with it he could sound a shrill blast
that would surely cause the impudent cat to retreat in haste.
“Yes, it would startle him, all right,” admitted Rob, “but he might
jump the wrong way, and at us. Better try my scheme; it can do no
harm, and I don’t think he’ll attack us unless we begin the fight.”
“I see a bully club close by my feet, Rob.”
“Well, don’t bother trying to get hold of it just yet,” urged the
other. “But if he should leap at me, see to it you grab that club in
a big hurry, and let him have it with a smack. Steady, now, you can
see the beast’s beginning to get uneasy right along.”
“Yes, you’re right, he is, Rob,” admitted Ralph, with a vein of
relief in his voice, for no fellow can entertain the idea of
battling bare-handed with a fierce four-footed adversary without
shivering; and Ralph knew only too well how even a scratch from the
claws of a carnivorous animal may cause blood poisoning if not
properly treated in time.
So they all continued to stand there as nearly like statues as their
various dispositions would allow, keeping up a battery of staring
looks that must have more or less bewildered the intruder.
Tubby heaved a great sigh. It was additionally hard on him, this
trying to keep absolutely still, lest by moving an attack be
precipitated, the end of which none of them could see.
“Gee whiz! isn’t he ever going to skip out?” he groaned, feeling the
drops of perspiration gathering on his forehead, and running down
his stubby nose, yet being deprived of the satisfaction of taking
out his red bandanna and wiping his streaming face as he would have
liked.
“Have a little more patience, Tubby,” pleaded Sim. “He’s getting
ready to vamoose the ranch, I tell you. There, didn’t you see how he
took a quick peek behind him? They say that in a fight the man who
looks back is the one who is getting whipped, because he’s thinking
of beating it. Watch, now, and be ready to give him a parting whoop
if he does jump over the fence again.”
The strange bobcat somehow found it unpleasant to remain there on
private grounds, and with those five queer creatures facing him so
mutely. They meant him harm, of that he must have concluded, and
perhaps he had better postpone his intended feast on plump fox cubs
or young mink. Night would be a better time for his hunting; and a
retreat could not be called dishonorable when the enemy counted five
against one.
So, finally, he made a quick backward jump that allowed of a new
perch just over the dividing fence. This movement was the signal for
a sudden change of policy on the part of the boys, for they burst
into a series of loud shouts, and Sim instantly darted forward to
secure the coveted club.
The wildcat, having concluded to pull out and evidently not liking
those aggressive sounds, continued its flight, growling savagely as
it went, and looking back once before finally disappearing amidst
the foliage of the trees beyond the high fence.
“That was an adventure, sure enough!” exclaimed Sim, breathing hard
after his recent exertions. “Just to think of our running across
such a tough customer when Ralph here was speaking about troublesome
pests. Do you reckon this was his first visit to your pens, Ralph?”
“I hope and believe so,” the other replied, frowning at the same
time. “I would hate to learn that it had become a habit with him.
Besides, we have seen no signs around to indicate that he’d ever
been here before. But the rascal has scented my pets, and will give
us no peace until he’s done for.”
“I should say the same thing!” declared Rob. “It’s just like a wolf
that threatens a sheep-fold, there can be no safety until he’s been
potted.”
“I’ll see Pete at once,” continued the other, with a look of
determination on his strong face, “and start him out with the dogs.
If they’re lucky they’ll get on the track of the beast before
sundown and, I hope, knock him over.”
The conversation then was mostly of the woods, and Ralph as well as
some of the others mentioned a number of curious circumstances that
had come under their observation while camping out. Ralph had
formerly been quite a hunter and trapper whenever he had an
opportunity, though, as he confessed, latterly the sport seemed to
be palling upon him somewhat.
“To tell the truth, Sim,” he said, as they strolled back toward the
distant farmhouse, after seeing Pete and starting him off with the
dogs to look for traces of the feline thief, “I’m getting to be
interested in that scheme of hunting with a camera, and I think I’ll
take it up soon. There are plenty of good chances for doing
something of that sort around here, you know. I want you to put me
wise to all the wrinkles of the game before you say goodbye, which I
hope won’t be for quite some time yet.”
“What are we going to do this afternoon, boys?” asked Andy.
“Well, if that question is aimed at me,” ventured Tubby, quickly, “I
know what I’d like to do, that is if Ralph happens to have plenty of
ammunition for that bully little Flobert rifle of his. Frogs for
mine, thank you. One thing I like about this scheme of shooting the
jumpers is it doesn’t seem half as cruel as catching them with a
hook, even if you do intend to put them out of their misery soon
afterwards.”
Tubby was known to have a tender heart, and would not hurt anything
if he could possibly help it.
Ralph proposed that if the others felt inclined, they might make a
run out to a certain lake he knew, where they would likely have a
pleasant time.
“Whether we get any bass or not we’ll certainly enjoy the run with
you, Ralph,” Rob told him. “As we’ve gone to the trouble to fetch
some rods and fishing tackle along, it would be a pity not to wet
the lines just once. So far as I’m concerned, I only too gladly say
‘yes’ to your proposition.”
Sim and Andy immediately voiced their sentiments in the same way,
and so it was settled. Tubby would be fixed out with the small
Flobert rifle and a supply of ammunition, also rubber boots, for he
might have to do some wading in order to retrieve his game after
shooting it. He promised to have a mess of frogs’ legs ready for the
evening meal when the boys came back.
“See to it that you fellows do your duty with the gamey bass!” he
called out as the other four piled into the big car, ready to start
forth.
“I heard you call that young chap, who was filling the gas tank,
Peleg; is he one of the workmen on the farm, Ralph?” Rob asked after
they had gotten fairly started, for he chanced to be sitting
alongside the driver at the time, the other boys occupying the rear
seat.
He saw that Ralph had a slight frown on his face, as though
something unpleasant had come into his mind just then, possibly
induced by mention of the name.
“Yes, his name is Peleg Pinder,” he replied in jerky sentences. “His
father was a sort of hard case in Wyoming, and the family seemed to
be always in a peck of trouble. Some folks said the children’d all
be worthless, just like their good-for-nothing dad. Then there was a
fire, and Peleg’s father was burned trying to save an old crippled
woman. Somehow people thought better of him after he died. The
children scattered. One girl is working for a farmer seven miles
away. My father took Peleg in, and gave him a home. Been with us six
months or so now.”
“How about his work--he seems lively enough, and good-natured. In
fact,” continued Rob, “I rather like the sparkle in his eyes.”
“Yes, he fooled me right along, too,” said Ralph, with a trace of a
sneer in his tone. “He does his work so you couldn’t really find any
fault; but then it’s hard to shake off a bad name, and the Pinders
always were shiftless and deceitful, Wyoming folks believe.”
Rob was interested at once, and for a reason. He hated to see any
one “picked on” simply because “people” chose to believe no good
could come out of a family that had a shirker for a father. Why, the
very fact that poor Pinder had died while performing an act of
heroism ought to be enough to prove that such a wholesale
condemnation was utterly wrong.
“You’ve got some sort of reason for saying that, I imagine, Ralph?”
he continued, bent on discovering the truth now that he was at it.
“Well, I have, though I didn’t mean to mention it to any of you,
because for one thing I wanted you to have a jolly time of it here,
and without bothering about any of my troubles. Then, again, I hate
to speak ill of anybody, even Peleg Pinder.”
“What has he been doing, then, to make you suspect him?” demanded
Rob.
After hesitating for a brief interval, as though he hardly knew just
how much to say, Ralph went on to explain.
“Hang it all,” he commenced, “I hate to say a word about it, because
it makes me feel mean, just as if I might be picking on a poor chap
who hadn’t any other friends but my folks, and who’s got a heavy
enough load as it is. Believe me, I haven’t so much as breathed a
word of this to dad. He’d fire Peleg if he knew, and then I might be
sorry. But I’m honestly up a stump trying to decide what I ought to
do.”
“Tell me about it then, Ralph; perhaps I might be able to help you
out?” suggested the other.
“All right, then, I will!” declared the driver, as he skillfully
avoided a hole in the road ahead. “About three days ago I made a
little discovery that bothered me. It seemed that some one was
helping themselves to some things I kept in that room out in the
barn, a place I had fitted up a long while ago as a sort of boy’s
den, you know, where I kept all my treasures, books, games, stamp
collection and coins, as well as a lot of other things.”
“Yes, I remember you showing us, though you didn’t stay in there
long, I noticed,” Rob went on to remark, significantly.
“That was because I felt bad about something,” explained Ralph.
“Fact is, I had just made an unpleasant discovery, which was to the
effect that some one had for the second time been poking around
among my things, and carried off a number of packets of valuable
stamps that I knew positively I had left there on the desk, meaning
to return them to the dealer.”
“But if this happened once before,” said Rob, “how did it come you
neglected to put a padlock on the door?”
“I had my reasons,” answered Ralph stoutly, and with a flash of fire
in his eyes. “First, because I hated to think that anything had to
be locked up so as to keep employees about the place from helping
themselves. Second, I wasn’t quite sure that my first loss was a
certainty. Then again, Rob, I was figuring on laying some sort of
trap so as to catch the rascal in the act, and settle the business.”
“But now you are sure a light-handed fellow has taken your things,
what do you expect to do about it?” queried Rob.
“I ought to warn my father,” said the other, regretfully. “He hates
a thief above all things. I’m sure he would discharge Peleg in a
hurry. You see, Peleg has always been allowed to enter my den as he
pleased; in fact, anybody could, because I trust the men who work
for us.”
“Well,” Rob continued, significantly, “I hope before you tell your
father you let me try to identify the thief, because I don’t believe
it can be Peleg Pinder.”