NEATLY DONE
As the scout master suddenly pressed the button of his little hand torch
and threw the expanding ray of light straight ahead, he called out in a
loud voice:
“Go to it, Tubby, Andy!”
There was a loud crash. Tubby had obediently thrown the wooden fire
screen over to the floor, and was trying to snatch up some of the fine
tinder that would burst into a brilliant flame almost as soon as it
reached the still hot embers on the hearth.
Andy, too, was equal to the emergency, and had his gun leveled directly
at the figure of the sprawling man. There was a grim suggestiveness
about the way in which all these things worked that must have staggered
any one thus taken completely by surprise.
“Lie just where you are, unless you want to get hurt!” cried Rob, in an
authoritative voice. “If you make any attempt to get up, or show fight,
you’ll have to take the consequences, and they’ll not be pleasant,
either. Understand that, Zeb Crooks?”
“Oh, that’s who it is, eh?” burst from Andy. Tubby too must have seen a
sudden light, though he was really a busy boy and did not bother to
express his astonishment; for no sooner had he seen those fine bits of
dry resinous wood begin to flash up than, remembering his instructions,
he waddled across the floor, much after the fashion of a fat duck, and,
securing Rob’s gun, hastened to join the group near by.
Already the resuscitated fire had begun to illuminate the interior of
the bunk-house. The glow disclosed a most singular scene, and one the
boys would often remember with a smile.
The big man on the floor was staring at the trio of lads with a strange
mixture of emotions depicted on his swarthy and bearded face. Evidently
he was sorely puzzled to account for their presence there, when he had
firmly believed the building to be wholly without occupants. He may have
struck a match and read the “Notice” which the boys had not removed from
the outside of the door.
“Who might the lot of you be?” he asked, still squatted there as he had
fallen after forcing his entrance, with his rifle alongside, though he
dared make no move toward regaining possession of the weapon with those
two guns wavering back and forth so close to his face.
Rob bent over and quietly secured possession of the repeating rifle. The
action showed him to be a diplomat of the first water, for in so doing
he cut the claws of the wild beast they had trapped.
“We’ll talk with you after we’ve made sure you’re not going to give us
any trouble, Zeb. Tubby, step over and fetch the piece of rope that’s
hanging from the peg yonder.”
Tubby obeyed with alacrity—for him. Rob, taking the gun from his hands,
gave another order.
“My friend, please accommodate us by rolling over on your face, and
holding both your hands behind you. We mean to tie them there, wrist to
wrist. It’ll do no good for you to grumble, because it’s just got to be
done.”
The intruder was a strong and bronzed fellow, who might easily have held
two of the scouts out from him could he have gotten his hands on them;
but then a boy in possession of a gun is as much to be respected as
though he measured up to the full stature of manhood, and evidently the
fellow appreciated this fact.
Still he did look disgusted as he proceeded with rather ill grace to do
as Rob had ordered. It was almost comical to see his huge figure
sprawled out there on the floor, with fat Tubby seated on his legs, and
endeavoring to do a neat job with the rope-end. Rob was watching to make
sure that there was no bungling; he did not believe in poor workmanship.
“Cross his hands so, Tubby, with the wrists together,” he directed. “Now
begin to wrap the rope around—draw it fairly tight. We don’t want him
getting loose on us, you understand. When Uncle George comes back from
the Tucker Pond he’ll know what he wants to do with a thief!”
There was a loud growl from the man whose face rested sideways against
the floor.
“Hold on, thar, kid,” he said savagely, “you don’t want to be so free
applying such langwidge as that, ’ca’se it cuts to the bone. I may have
been a fool to turn on Mr. Hopkins, and act stubborn-like, but I’m no
thief! Mebbe onct in a while in times gone by I’ve shot deer out o’
season, and busted the game laws, but I never in my life did take
anything as belonged to anybody else, never, so help me.”
Rob did not say anything until Tubby had finally completed his job,
puffing over it as though the effort required every atom of breath he
could command.
“Now, Tubby, help me get him over here, where he can rest against the
wall,” Rob said. “I know it’s going to be mighty uncomfortable for him,
fastened up this way, but nobody’s to blame but himself.”
“Huh, guess that’s correct, younker!” grunted the man. “I sartin sure
did make a fool o’ myself, and I oughtn’t to grumble if I have to pay up
for it. But I’m plumb up against it now, seems like.”
“Then you are Zeb Crooks?” asked Rob.
“Yep, that’s who I am,” came the unhesitating reply.
“Mr. Hopkins, who is the uncle of this boy here, discharged you only a
day or two ago, didn’t he?” continued the scout master, watching the
play of emotions on the swarthy face of the Maine guide and trying to
read what lay back of them.
“Waal, we had a little misunderstanding, you might say, and I was sorter
set in my way. Mr. Hopkins, he seen there wouldn’t be no sense o’ us
tryin’ to pull together, so he up and paid me a hull month’s wages and
told me my room was a heap sight more agreeable to him than my company.
I was that mad I jest up and cleared out o’ the camp, and started across
kentry toward my home, which is away back nigh Moosehead Lake.”
“But it seems you changed your mind some, and turned back,” remarked Rob
drily.
“Jest what I did, younker,” admitted Zeb contritely.
“You had a reason in doing that, of course?” continued the boy.
“Well, I guess so!” chuckled Andy scornfully, as though he considered
that a superfluous question when they had caught the discharged guide
creeping into the bunk-house and evidently meaning to purloin the best
of the stores left there by the hunting party.
“Keep still, Andy,” Rob hastily snapped, for he knew the other did not
look as deeply into things as he ought, but often judged them in a
superficial way.
Zeb glared at Andy as though he could give a pretty good guess what the
other had in mind. The guide did not feel as kindly toward Rob’s thin
companion as might be the case with regard to the scout leader himself.
“My reason was jest this,” he said firmly: “the more I got to thinkin’
about how good Mr. Hopkins had been to me and my fambly for the ten
years he’s been hiring me as his head guide up here, an’ over in Canada,
why, the more I felt ashamed o’ what I’d said an’ done. The stubborn
feelin’ died away, an’ I was plumb sorry. I jest stopped short on the
way to Wallace, an’ camped, so I could think it over some. An’ there I
stayed two days, a-wrestlin’ with the nasty streak that had got aholt o’
me. Then I guess I come to my senses, for I made up my mind I’d tramp
back here and eat humble pie. Once I’d got to that point, nothin’
couldn’t hold me in, an’ so I kim along. When I struck a match an’ read
that ’ere notice on the door, I figgered that Mr. Hopkins ought to be
back in a day or so, an’ that I made up my mind I’d wait here for him.
Then I couldn’t understand why the door was fast, but I remembered thar
was a loose shutter, an’—well, I kim in.”
Rob wondered whether the guide were telling the truth. He more than half
believed that it was a straight story, for the man looked penitent
enough, and was surely humiliating himself to thus acknowledge his
faults before boys who were strangers to him.
“Huh! Do you believe that yarn, Rob?” asked Andy, who it may as well be
admitted was rather skeptical by nature, and apt to think the worst of
any one whom he suspected not to be on the level.
“I don’t know what to think,” said Rob hastily. “It may be just as Zeb
tells us, but he will admit himself that his actions looked mighty
suspicious, and also agree that we are perfectly justified in keeping
him tied up until Tubby’s uncle comes. Safety first is often a good
motto for scouts to follow.”
“Oh, that’s all right, boys!” sang out the big guide, as cheerfully as a
man who faced a long and tiresome period of captivity might be expected
to appear. “’Course you couldn’t expect to take my simple word for it.
None o’ you knows me. Mr. Hopkins, he’s slept alongside o’ me for ten
years. I ain’t afraid o’ what he’ll say when he comes back from Tucker
Pond. Do jest as you think best. I’m goin’ to take my medicine—and grin.
I deserve the worst that could happen to me, arter treatin’ my best
friend like I done.”
Rob liked the way in which he said this; it drew him closer to the man
than anything else could have done. When any one has been foolish, and
committed an indiscretion, repentance and frank admission of the wrong
are after all the best signs of a return to reason.
“We’ll make you as comfortable as we can for the night, Zeb,” he told
the guide. “In the morning we’ll see what we can do about it.”
“Jest as you say, sir; I guess I kin stand it. So you youngsters are Boy
Scouts, be you? I got a nephew down at Waterville as belongs to the
organization. When I was thar I thought his troop a right smart bunch o’
kids. The stunts I showed ’em about things connected with the woods
pleased the boys a heap. If I had a son, he’d have to jine the scouts,
or I’d know the reason why, ’cause I believes in the things they stand
for, every time, but my kids is all three gals.”
“Well, he knows how to soft-soap, all right,” muttered Andy, still
suspicious.
Rob had a pretty firm conviction that Zeb Crooks belied his name, and
that he was as straight as a die. Still, it would hardly do to be too
hasty in freeing him; they had better wait until morning at least, when
all of them had cooled down and the matter might be properly debated and
settled, majority ruling as it generally did in such matters. Rob felt
pretty certain that he would have the backing of gentle-hearted Tubby,
in case he wished to remove Zeb’s bonds.
Rob said nothing further, though he undoubtedly did a heap of thinking.
With the assistance of his comrades he managed to get Zeb into one of
the lower bunks. The man said he was fairly comfortable, and would
doubtless manage to get some sleep, though his position was awkward, and
of course his hands would feel “dead” from lack of circulation.
“I sure hopes you’ll decide in the mornin’ to believe me, boys, and undo
these here cords,” he remarked, with unction, as they turned to leave
him.
“Perhaps we may; wait and see,” Rob told him.
Andy shook his head and looked unhappy. Plainly he could not get it off
his mind that the guide was what his name signified; and even though he
had served Uncle George for ten years, doubtless he had been deceiving
the good man all the time, only he had not been found out until now.
Andy meant to “keep one eye open” during the remainder of the night, as
he privately informed Tubby, thereupon causing that worthy further
uneasiness.
They had thought to throw more fuel on the fire before climbing back
into their bunks, so that the room would be lighted more or less during
the rest of the night. If Andy chose to remain on guard, he was welcome
to do so for all the others cared.
Tubby himself could not immediately get to sleep, for a wonder. Truth to
tell, he was busy trying to figure out whether Zeb Crooks was a clever
rascal or a blunt, honest backwoods guide, whose main faults possibly
might lie in the possession of an easily aroused temper and a stubborn
will.
Once or twice Tubby lifted himself on one elbow and stared hard toward
the bunk where they had stowed the prisoner. He wondered if Andy could
know better than Rob, and whether the big rough man right then might be
working his hands free. Suppose Zeb should get loose, would he be
tempted to turn the tables on them? Tubby tried to imagine how it would
feel to have his wrists triced up like the legs of a fowl bound for the
market. He did not believe he would fancy the sensation over well; and
perhaps he should feel grateful to Andy because that worthy had promised
to keep watch.
Then Tubby leaned forward and listened more carefully. Some one was
sleeping soundly, that was sure, and the heavy breathing certainly came
from the next bunk, where that alert guardian of their safety, Andy, had
taken up his lodging. Tubby gave a scornful snort.
“Huh, a nice sentry he’d make, if our lives depended on his keeping
awake! Guess I might as well drop off myself. If Zeb gets free while we
sleep, and skips out, why, it’s just as well.”
After that all was still in the bunk-house. Even the man whose hands
were so painfully fastened together must have made the best of a bad
bargain and managed to get a certain amount of sleep; from which fact it
would appear that Zeb’s mind was perfectly at ease, now that he had
decided to do the right thing.
The night passed away, and dawn came at length. It was about this time
that all of them were awakened by certain noises without. At first they
fancied that the hunting party must have returned and were beating at
the door demanding admittance.
Then suddenly Tubby was observed “making a bee-line” for the door as
fast as he could go. As Rob and Andy tumbled from their bunks they saw
him fumbling with the bar, which he dropped before either of the others
could call out. With that Tubby flung the door open, and in frisked an
active object that seemed to want to fairly devour the stout chum. Tubby
was crying:
“It’s Wolf come back to us again, don’t you see? Good boy, you didn’t
mean to desert your new friends, did you? Hey! Keep down there, and
don’t eat me alive, please.”