TUBBY HAS AN ADVENTURE
Tubby was particularly interested in looking around. He had heard so
much about these hunting camps of his sport-loving relative that now he
had the chance to see for himself he kept prowling about. It was Tubby
who presently discovered a haunch of fresh venison. Andy immediately
announced that the keen-nosed wildcat was not in the same class with the
stout chum.
“Say, we can have a mess of _real_ venison for our camp supper
to-night,” added the delighted Tubby. “Haven’t we a warrant for taking
liberties in that Notice, where Uncle George invites the pilgrim to
enter, wait, and make merry? How can any one be merry without a feast?
I’ll take all the responsibility on my shoulders, boys, so make up your
minds the main dish to-night will be deer meat.”
Later in the afternoon Tubby wandered outside to look around.
“Don’t go too far away and get lost, Tubby!” called out Rob, who himself
was busily engaged.
“Oh, I don’t mean to more than stretch my legs,” came the reply. “Here’s
a bucket, and there must be a spring somewhere handy. I think I’d like a
drink of fresh water. I might as well fetch some back with me. Yes, now
I can see a beaten path leading from the door in this direction. Rob, I
won’t be gone long.”
“All right, Tubby,” Andy called out in turn. “If you don’t turn up
inside of half an hour we’ll send out a relief corps to look for you. Be
sure to fetch a supply of that spring water back with you. I’m getting a
bit dry myself.”
So Tubby walked off. He was feeling in the best of spirits. He believed
his troubles were mostly in the past, and the immediate future looked as
rosy as the sky at dawn. In another day or two Uncle George would surely
turn up, when the little operation of having that paper signed could be
carried out. Then for a week of unalloyed happiness, roving the pine
woods, feasting on royal game, and enjoying the society of the
world-wide sportsman at evening time, when sitting in front of a cheery
blaze inside that bunk-house the boys would be entertained with
wonderful stories of the amazing scenes Uncle George had run across
during his long and adventurous career.
Tubby had no difficulty in following that beaten path. In going to and
from the spring the guides had made such a plain track that even a worse
greenhorn than Tubby might have kept right. In fact, to stray would have
been unpardonable sin in the eyes of a scout.
It proved to be much longer than he had expected. Tubby fancied that
there was another water place closer to the camp, though Uncle George
for some reason of his own preferred this spring. The path turned this
way and that, passing around high barriers of lopped-off branches, now
dead, and beginning to decay as time passed. Tubby could not but shudder
as he contemplated the effect of a stray lighted match thrown into one
of these heaps of dead stuff, that would prove as so much tinder. He
hoped they would not have the ill luck to witness a forest fire.
Finally he came to the spring. It was a fine one, too, clear and
bubbling. Tubby lay as flat as he could, and managed after considerable
exertion to get a satisfying drink of that cold water.
“My, but that is good!” he told himself, after he had once more resumed
an upright position. “I don’t wonder at them coming all this distance to
get a supply of water. Now to fill my bucket, and trot back over the
trail; and by the same token it won’t be just as easy a job as coming
out was. But then the boys will thank me for my trouble, and that’s
quite enough.”
As Tubby started off, carrying the pail of water, he suddenly bethought
himself once again of that tremendous bobcat Andy had killed. It
occurred to Tubby that he had been informed such creatures were always
to be found in pairs. What if the mate to the defunct cat should bar his
way, and attack him, recognizing in him one of the party that had been
the means of making her a feline widow?
Tubby did not like the idea at all. He cast numerous nervous looks about
him, as he hastened his steps a little. As a rule he swept the lower
branches of the trees with those keen glances, for if the bobcat were
lying in wait to waylay him it would select some such roost for its
hiding place.
Then all at once Tubby plainly heard a sound behind him, that was
exactly like the swift patter of feet in the dead leaves and pine
needles. He whirled around and immediately experienced one of the
greatest shocks of his whole life!
In and out of the aisles of the forest a moving object came pattering
along. Tubby saw that it was about knee high and of a singular dun
color. To his eyes it looked terribly fierce!
“Oh, murder! It must be a savage wolf, come across from Canada!” was
what he told himself, remembering something he had heard a man say while
they were waiting at a little wayside station in Maine, about such
beasts of prey having been unusually plentiful up in Canada in the
preceding spring, and bolder than ever known before.
Tubby wanted to drop his water pail and run like mad. He also would have
liked to give a series of shouts, not that he was frightened, of course,
but to sort of alarm the animal and cause him to turn tail; but his
tongue seemed to be sticking to the roof of his mouth in the queerest
way ever, and which for the life of him he could not understand.
But while he still held on to the bucket Tubby did manage to get his
legs in motion once more; he was far from being paralyzed. The animal
kept advancing and stopping by turns. Tubby thought the wolf was laying
a plan to surround him, when the beast trotted to one side or the other.
Yes, and the cunning of the animal to wag his tail that way, and act as
though pleased to see him! Tubby thought of that ancient fairy story
about Little Red Riding Hood, and how she met a wolf on the way to her
grandmother’s home. They always were tricky creatures, no matter in what
country found; but Tubby was on his guard.
By now at least he had managed to regain his voice, and when the wolf
trotted closer than he thought was safe he would make violent gestures
with his arms, and try to shoo him away. Apparently the beast did not
know just how to catch Tubby napping, for he continued to trot along,
forcing himself to look as amiable, Tubby saw, as he possibly could,
although not deceiving the boy in the least.
“You can’t fool me with your making out to want to be friendly, you
miserable old scamp!” he chattered, after he had actually put down the
now only half filled bucket, the better to throw up both arms, and
pretend to be picking up stones, all of which hostile actions caused the
obstinate creature to dart away a short distance although quickly coming
on again. “Get out, I tell you! Oh, why didn’t I think to get the loan
of Rob’s gun! What if he tumbles me down in spite of all my fighting
like mad! But, thank goodness, there’s the cabin, and maybe I can make
it yet!”
He did in the end, and burst upon the other pair like a thunderbolt, so
that both boys scrambled to their feet, and Rob exclaimed:
“What ails you, Tubby? Have you seen that big bull moose again—and did
he attack you?”
“Oh, Rob! Andy! The wolf! The wolf!” stammered Tubby, now completely out
of breath; but he had said quite enough, for the two boys snatched up
their firearms and darted out of the cabin.
Tubby waited, fully expecting to hear shots, and perhaps wild yelping.
Instead he soon caught the sound of whistling, and then he heard the
boys laughing heartily. While Tubby stared and waited they came back
into the bunk-house. The panting fat boy was startled to see trotting
alongside, leaping up again and again, his terrible “wolf”!
“W-w-what’s all this mean, fellows?” he stammered in bewilderment, at
the same time dimly comprehending how his fears had magnified the evil.
“Only that your wolf turns out to be a poor dog that’s probably got lost
in the woods and was trying to make friends with you,” laughed Rob.
Tubby quickly recovered, and joined in the laugh. The joke was on him.
He no longer declined to make up with the four-footed stranger. His
heart was tender, and he repented having called the wretched beast so
many hard names. Tubby was really the first to discover that the dog
acted as though almost famished, sniffing around, and looking longingly
up toward the hams that hung from the rafter.
“Oh, you poor fellow!” said Tubby. “I bet you’re as hungry as can be.
Haven’t had a single bite for a whole day? I guess I know what that
means. I’ll fix you out in a jiffy, see if I don’t; Uncle George will
say I’m doing the decent thing by you, too. Here, Wolf, for I’m going to
call you that just for a joke, watch me get you a hunk of the poorest
part of that haunch of venison.”
Tubby was as good as his word, too. The stray dog had reason to rejoice
over the freak of fortune that had sent him in the way of these new
friends. Indeed, he gave promise of turning out to be quite a welcome
addition to the party, for all of the scouts were fond of pet animals
that could show affection. Wolf duly licked Tubby’s plump hand after
being fed, as his only way of displaying dog gratitude.
So the long afternoon wasted away. As evening approached the boys gave
up all hope of seeing Uncle George that day. But then none of them
worried, for things had turned out splendidly so far, and they could
find reason to hope for the return of the party within forty-eight hours
at most.
Tubby was as good as his word, too, and cut off quite a bountiful supply
of that nice fresh venison, which he cooked with some strips of bacon;
for all of them knew that this was the only proper way in which such
meat should be used, since it was too dry to be attractive otherwise.
They pronounced the supper “gilt-edged,” which in boyish language means
the acme of perfection. As every one, including even “Wolf,” whose
appetite seemed boundless, proved to be exceedingly hungry, the repast
was a royal feast. Then they sat around the fire, chatting and telling
stories. Tubby even started up one of their school songs, and being
joined by the other pair, the low rafters of that bunk-house resounded
with the glorious refrain. In days past sounds far less innocent, ribald
language and loud oaths, may have been heard within those walls, for as
a rule the sturdy lumber jacks are the roughest kind of men, as hard as
some of the knots they strike with their axes.
An hour or so later the boys settled down for a good sleep. Wolf had
been let out for a run, and did not come back again, so Rob said he must
be feeling so refreshed after his feed that he wanted to take a turn
around, possibly in hopes of finding his lost home; or again it might be
he was desirous of running a deer, for Wolf was a guide’s dog, they had
determined.
When they all retired the dog had not shown up again. Andy said he was
an ungrateful cur, deserting his friends in that fashion; but Tubby
stood up manfully for the dog, declaring that it was only right he
should want to find his own people.
The fire had been allowed to die down, and Rob meant to let it go out.
To shut the glow from their eyes he had made use of a rude screen
doubtless intended for this very purpose by Uncle George.
An hour, perhaps several, passed away. Then Rob felt some one clawing at
his arm, after which a low whisper sounded close to his ear. It was
Andy, and he had something to communicate that was quite enough to cause
a thrill to shoot through the heart of the aroused scout master.
“Listen, Rob, and keep very still,” said Andy softly. “There’s some one
outside the door trying to get in. I heard him try the latch and give a
push; and I think he’s gone to prowling around, trying each of the
wooden shutters over the windows in turn.”