CHAPTER XX.

DRAWING STRAWS FOR A CHANCE.

At any rate Bumpus was manly enough to do the right thing. He walked

straight up to Step-hen, and held out his hand.

"I was a fool, and that's all there is about it, Step-hen," he said,

frankly. "Will you shake hands with me, and excuse the blunder I made

when I felt sure you had hooked the old bag, just to bother me?"

"Sure I will, Bumpus," said the other, gripping the fat hand extended so

confidingly toward him, and giving it a squeeze that brought tears to

the eyes of poor Bumpus. "And after all, I don't hardly blame you for

thinking I had a hand in gettin' away with the bag; because, you know,

I've wanted to look through it this long time. Don't you think you might

let me have it now, Bumpus?"

"But I tell you I haven't got anything that belongs to you, Step-hen,

and you ought to believe me," protested the fat boy, firmly.

Step-hen looked at him queerly, as though he might be still a little

undecided. Then with a sigh he turned away; and Bumpus knew that he had

not been convinced.

"Here, you c'n tumble out everything I've got in the haversack, if you

want to, Step-hen," added the other, giving in finally.

"Never mind, I take your word it ain't there," said the other, over his

shoulder; but somehow Bumpus knew that the feeling of suspicion was only

"scotched," not killed; and that Step-hen fancied that he, Bumpus, had

only changed the hiding-place of the lost compass.

Thad had considerable to think about as he sat there, looking into the

fire, and listening to the talk that was going the rounds. His mind was

fixed upon the mystery that seemed to be hovering over the island; and

in various ways he found himself trying to connect the coming of the two

men and the bear, with the presence of those tracks across on the wooded

territory beyond the water.

He even got up, and went across to the other side of the fire, to stoop

down and examine the plain footprints left by their late guest. Then he

shook his head as though the result failed to tell him what he sought.

To make absolutely sure, he took a pine knot that had been thrust into

the fire; and using this as a torch, made his way to the tree where the

bear had been chained ever since coming among them.

It was no great task to discover the imprint made by the heavy shoes

worn by the Russian. They were marked all around by hobnails such as are

used by the lower classes across the water, in order to save the leather

soles, for leather costs more money than a few nails.

Apparently Thad found little satisfaction in his labors, for he was

frowning when he returned to the circle.

"Not the same parties, eh, Thad?" asked Davy, who had kept a wondering

eye on the movements of the young scout-master, and could give a shrewd

guess as to the reason for his action, as well as the disappointing

result.

"I'm dead sure of that," replied Thad.

"Different shoes make different trails, eh?" went on Davy.

"Oh!" Thad replied quietly, but conclusively; "that spluttering

foreigner has hobnails in his soles; and I saw none like that over on

the island. And this other man wears a shoe with a square toe; but

pretty good material in it. There was no print like that either."

"Well, then, that proves them innocent, don't it?" asked Smithy. "For my

part now, fellows, I rather took to that man who sat here, and drank his

coffee. He's no hobo, I give you my word. His hands may look soiled, but

under it all they're decent enough to belong to a gentleman."

"Hey! listen to Smithy, would you?" exclaimed Step-hen, as if surprised.

"Now, I never knew he had such a way of figgering out things. If he

keeps on like that, he'll leave us all in the lurch, fellers."

"To tell the truth," admitted the other, smilingly; "time was when I

wouldn't have thought of noticing a single thing about such a man; but

you see, I've been studying up the rules and suggestions our

scout-master loaned me, and it keeps on telling greenhorns and

tenderfeet to always be on the lookout, so as to remember what they see.

And when he sat there, I just thought it would be a fine chance to make

a mental note of anything queer about him I could detect."

"Good for you, Number Five," said Thad, warmly. "I said you were going

to make your mark yet, once you got into the fever of things; and

already you're proving a credit to the Silver Fox Patrol."

"Then you saw the same things, did you, Thad?" asked Smithy, eagerly,

and with a really happy look on his delicate face; because this practice

of "doing things" was a new experience for him, and success made him

feel proud indeed.

"Partly so; though you went me one better when you made out that his

hands were white under the grime," answered the scout-master.

"That sounds like you think he took on all that dirt on purpose?"

remarked Bumpus.

"Perhaps he did," replied Thad; "perhaps the man is playing some sort of

part, for a reason of his own."

"Bunking with an ignorant foreigner just to get a chance to sneak into

camps, and run off with the haversacks that have been carelessly left

lying around loose?" suggested Step-hen, still harping on his wrongs.

"Well, I don't agree with you there, Step-hen," remarked Allan. "Like

Smithy here, I found something about that man that interested me. If

asked me point-blank now, possibly I couldn't tell you what it was that

attracted me--his eyes, his smile, or his whole manner. But I'd be badly

mistaken if he would turn out to be a rascal."

"And I say the same," observed Thad, vigorously.

"Oh! well, you fellows may be right," remarked Giraffe; "but to my mind

there's something mighty suspicious about the way they came snooping

around here. Reckon that party might know more about how certain kinds

of wild game find their way to the New York hotels in the close season,

than he'd like to own up to. And I tell you right now what I mean to

do."

"Go on, we all want to know," urged Thad.

"While I'm up here," Giraffe continued, loftily, "I expect to keep my

eyes open to find evidences of traps and snares set in the woods to

catch partridges, rabbits and the like. And some time, if anybody wants

to paddle for me, I'm agoin' to go all the way around this here lake,

lookin' for nets, set to haul in the game bass."

"You ought to be wearing the badge of a game warden, Giraffe," declared

Davy, with a mock bow in the direction of the speaker; "but they'd have

to watch you right smart now, because some of that game would go to keep

you from starving."

They continued to talk until a late hour, and every boy was given a

chance to air his opinion. Still, no wonderfully new ideas seemed to be

in evidence; and when the patrol sought the blankets, leaving the

camp-fire dying down, they were about evenly divided on the question as

to whether the educated tramp keeping company with the foreign owner of

the bear was a smart man, or just a scamp.

But a night of peace followed all these thrills. The skies above showed

no sign of storm; and from the neighboring forest there issued no more

bears, or any other savage beast, to raid the camp, and produce another

mad scamper of the scouts to places of refuge among the branches of the

friendly trees.

Once or twice Allan came out to take a look around. It seems to be the

habit of all old campers to do this, whenever they happen to awaken; not

that he suspected that there would be any peril hovering around; but

then possibly the fire might have worked its way through a line of dead

grass, and threaten to extend; or it perhaps needed another small log to

keep the blaze going, and ward off the chill of night.

Over the water came a weird cry at the time Allan last performed this

vigil; and the Maine boy smiled as he listened for a repetition; because

it was a familiar sound in his ears, and reminded him of his former home

further north.

"Was that a loon, Allan," asked a quiet voice near him; and turning, the

Maine boy saw the acting scout-master poking his head out from under the

canvas of the second tent.

"Just what it was, Thad," replied the other, when the last speaker

crawled out to join him; "I think he must have just dropped down here,

for I heard a splash before he gave tongue; and we know there wasn't

any such bird around up to sunset. If any of the others wake up and hear

that cry, they'll think it's the ghost of the island, sure."

As it was too cool to sit around with such a scanty amount of clothes

on, both scouts soon vanished again. The fish were jumping as on the

previous night; and in the eastern sky the battered old moon had thrust

her remnant of a circle above the horizon for a little peep at the world

below.

Morning came along in due time, and of course the usual swim was first

in order. Giraffe was apparently in high spirits. The others saw him

taking stock of what stores they had left, and evidently the big eater

found that there would be an abundance to see them through. That sort of

thing always pleased Giraffe. He was gloomy only when he feared for the

worst; and in his mind that consisted of short rations.

After breakfast the question came up as to which one of the other scouts

Thad was to take with him. As he had stated he would do, in order to be

quite fair, and keep the others from feeling that any favoritism had

been shown, Thad took a number of short blades of grass, each of a

different length. These he mixed up in his hand, so that no one could

know which was the long, and which the short ones. Then he invited the

boys with the exception of the second in command, Allan, to draw as they

pleased, the shortest straw to win out.

Of course there was more or less joking as the operation was carried

out; for boys can hardly do so simple a thing as draw lots without a

certain amount of fun being injected into the game.

"Now, the last belongs to Smithy, because he didn't draw," said Thad.

"Hold up the one you got, Bumpus, and see if you go along with me."

Bumpus actually shook a little when he compared his "straw" and finding

that it was longer than the other, he laughed with glee. That island did

not have much drawing power for Bumpus; in fact, he hoped never to set

foot on it again.

Each one tried to show that he had a shorter straw than the one that

fell to Smithy, but without success.

"It's Smithy who goes," observed Thad; and possibly he looked pleased;

for he was beginning to take a great interest in the boy who had been

wrongly raised by his mother and maiden aunts, to be what is known as a

"sissy;" and hoped to see him turn out to be a manly, self-reliant and

brave scout.

The Boy Scouts' First Camp Fire; or, Scouting with the Silver Fox Patrol · 第 20 / 30 章