Strange Treatment
There was a moment of silence after Kent had spoken. The boys were not
afraid of the Wolf boy and his companions, but they had no desire to
camp too close to them. Carter possessed a mean spirit, and they felt it
best to avoid him wherever possible.
“I hardly believe that they will camp out in the woods,” Tim said. “I’ll
bet they will go to a cabin or some more comfortable place. If it is
Wolf, he won’t give us any coffee.”
“Or sell us any, either,” Mac added.
“We wouldn’t need to walk right into that other camp,” Barry advised.
“It ought to be easy to approach the place without making any noise. I
think we should find out who is camping there.”
“Tim and I will go over and scout around,” Mac offered.
“All right,” Barry nodded. “We’ll get supper ready. If anything goes
wrong, just sing out and we’ll come hopping over.”
“Nothing will happen if we get running first,” Tim grinned. “Shall we
offer to pay for the coffee?”
“Sure,” nodded Kent. “They may have a small supply, and we wouldn’t want
to take it away from them. If they give it to you, that will be all
right, but we should offer to buy it.”
Tim pushed his camping ax down into his belt case. “Come on, Mac. Let’s
see where you spotted that fire.”
Leaving Barry and Kent at the campfire, the two brothers hiked off into
the woods to the knoll where Mac had been cutting wood. It was an uphill
climb, and their breath showed in little, frosty clouds before they got
to the place. Finally Mac pointed off through the spruce trees.
“There it is. See that fire down there?”
Following the direction of Mac’s mittened finger, Tim saw a small point
of light down in a hollow. It came evidently from a small fire and
appeared to be less than a half-mile away. They were unable to see
anything else except the little flame.
“Somebody down there, all right,” Tim nodded. “Well, let’s go calling.”
“And we’ll look before we knock,” Mac chuckled. “It might be the wrong
house!”
They descended the other side of the knoll and tramped on toward the
lone campfire. Underfoot the snow crunched and broke with a cold,
snapping sound and the rocks were slippery. The stars stood out
brilliantly overhead, and they had no difficulty in making their way
through the Vermont forest. They rounded a ragged bluff of rock, and the
fire was now very near.
“Slow up now and let’s get a good look at this outfit,” Mac whispered.
Tim nodded silently, and they began to approach the camp as noiselessly
as possible. Keeping behind friendly trees, they slipped closer and
closer until they could see around the clear space in the center of
which a small fire burned fitfully.
“It isn’t Wolf and his bunch,” Mac whispered.
“No, only a man and a woman,” Tim returned, in an equally low tone.
The camp was occupied by a man and a woman. Close beside the fire could
be seen some camping equipment, a frying pan which had apparently been
placed in the snow while hot, a knapsack, and a brightly colored blanket
and a pair of gloves. Against a near-by stump leaned a rifle, and the
man had a hunting knife at his belt. They had just finished supper, and
the smell of fish lingered on the air. The woman was placing chunks of
snow in a pan, and when this was finished she put the pan on the fire.
There was a sizzling sound as the snow on the outside of the pot slid
into the fire.
Before advancing any further, the boys studied the man and woman
closely. They were dark-skinned and looked to be French. Both of them
were warmly dressed for winter travel, and their camping equipment was
battered and blackened, indicating much use. The woman wore a coat with
a rich fur collar, and both of them seemed perfectly at home in the
woods. They exchanged no words and were engrossed in their tasks. The
man was cleaning scraps from a plate while the woman waited for the snow
to melt.
Tim reached over and pushed Mac. “Might as well go to it,” he said, and
the brothers left the shelter of the trees and approached the camp.
They had advanced several steps before the campers heard them coming.
They had left the trees and were crossing the clearing. The woman was
the first to hear them, and she lifted her head with a swift motion, and
her black eyes seemed to glitter like those of an animal who was
trapped. She spoke sharply in French to her companion, who dropped a
plate and rose to his feet, his hand running backward toward his hunting
knife. The woman looked around at the rifle.
“Hi!” greeted Mac, not very well impressed with the manner of the two
campers. “May we come into your camp?”
“Look like you in ze camp now,” said the man, without a smile. “What you
want?”
“We’re camping just over the hill,” Mac explained, his eyes on the
woman, who had picked up the rifle. She was holding it muzzle down in
the crook of her arm, but her eyes stared at them in a way that neither
of the boys relished. “We found that we had forgotten to bring any
coffee with us, so we saw your fire and came to ask if you could sell us
any.”
“Sorry if we startled you,” Tim added.
“What you want?” the man asked again. The boys looked at him with some
astonishment.
“I just told you,” Mac answered. “We came to buy some coffee.”
“You not come to buy coffee,” the man said, his chin coming forward in a
way that was far from comforting. “You want somet’ing else, eh? You
follow us, eh?”
“We did not,” Tim denied, indignantly. “We’re camping up here and we saw
your fire, that is all.”
The woman spoke to her companion. “Pierre, listen!” She launched into
rapid French, and when she had finished he shrugged his shoulders. She
turned to the boys suddenly. “We not got coffee. We not got anyt’ing.
You go back to your camp. Go back!”
She made a quick motion with the rifle, though she did not lift the
muzzle, which still pointed downward. There was no mistaking the implied
threat or the fact that the boys were not wanted. Mac felt angry at
their unfriendly reception, but he felt it best to retreat at once.
“All right,” he said. “We only wanted to buy a little coffee. We weren’t
going to ask you to give it to us. Come along, Tim.”
“We got no coffee. We got not’ing,” the woman repeated, and the twins
turned and walked off, their eyes on the alert for any sudden move. But
the woodsman and his wife stood by the flickering fire motionless.
No word was spoken until they were around the rock bluff, and then the
boys looked at each other. “What do you make of that?” Tim asked.
“Well, I’ll be hanged if I know,” Mac cried. “Wasn’t that the limit?
They acted as if we were a couple of criminals.”
“That’s probably what they are,” Tim advanced. Mac came to a halt.
“Why, of course! He said something about following them. I’ll bet those
two are a couple of bad eggs. Maybe we’re lucky we got away from them.”
Tim urged him on. “Let’s get back to the camp,” he said, looking over
his shoulder. “See what the other boys think about it.”
When they stalked into camp a delightful smell of pork and beans greeted
them. Kent was piling fresh wood on the fire, and Barry was stirring a
fork around among the beans. The sled had been cleaned off and was ready
to serve as a table.
“Hello, what luck?” Barry hailed. “Get any coffee?”
“All we got was an order to get out of the camp pronto,” Mac answered.
“Almost got ordered off with a rifle,” Tim added, stooping down and
warming his hands over the cook fire.
“What’s that?” Barry asked, sharply.
“Was it Wolf’s camp?” Kent inquired.
“No, it wasn’t. This is what happened.” Mac related the story, and the
other two boys listened with interest and astonishment.
“Well, you certainly got a cool reception,” was Kent’s comment.
“Cool!” exploded Tim. “It almost froze us!”
Barry gazed off in the timber in the direction of the hostile camp.
“That’s a mighty queer way for anyone to act when you just go and ask
them to sell you coffee.”
“Yes, and they had coffee, too,” Mac avowed. “I saw the jar of it. Did
you, Tim?”
His brother nodded. “As plain as day, right there beside the fire. But
they acted as though we were poison.”
They were still discussing it when they sat down to eat, and it
furnished the main topic until bedtime. Gradually they drifted to other
things and forgot the incident. They did not stay up long after supper.
The cold was severe and did not encourage sitting around for more than
an hour after the meal. After cutting a big supply of firewood they
decided to turn in.
“The good old sleeping bags will serve us well tonight,” Kent said, as
they prepared to turn in.
Barry brought a pan of melted snow from the fire. “Here is warm water to
wash in,” he announced. “Hurry up and get at it, or it will freeze.”
Tim was the first one to wash, and he toweled his face and neck with
chattering teeth. “Good night, but this is cold business,” he
ejaculated. “Too icy to wash behind the ears tonight.”
Mac pulled off his shoes and shirt and sat on the sleeping bag while he
washed. Then with a yell he slipped inside the warm lining of the bag,
doubling up. “Boy, doesn’t this feel good!”
It did not take the others long to get into their bags. Barry and Kent
shared one tent, and the twins had the other. After a few words they
went to sleep, and utter stillness settled over the winter camp.
Several hours later Barry awoke and crawled out of the bag, shivering in
the cold air. The fire was low, and he wanted to keep it going so that
they could make a quick blaze in the morning. He pulled on his shoes and
slipped into his Mackinaw. His hat followed, and then he stepped up and
out of the tent, rubbing his hands.
He halted with a little shock. A short man in corduroy trousers and
woodsman’s boots stood at the edge of the clearing, looking around the
camp. At sight of Barry he crouched and fairly sprang into the bushes,
beating a retreat from the place. His form had been shadowy and
indistinct. Barry roused from his state of surprise.
“Here!” he called out, sharply. “What do you want? Who are you?”
There was no answer from the one who had been watching the camp. All was
profoundly silent.