LOST IN THE WOODS.
“I suppose you don’t know who the robbers were?” said George, as soon as
he had recovered his power of speech.
“No, we don’t,” answered Bob Howard. “They wore masks, as I told you;
and, besides, the night was so dark that we could not have recognized
our most intimate friends at the distance we were from them.”
“The most provoking part of the whole business was this,” said Dick
Langdon. “After Bob and I became satisfied that the masked parties,
whoever they were, had come there for no good purpose, we opened fire on
them and drove them away. And what did the old miser do to repay us for
the assistance we rendered him?”
“Did he ask you in to breakfast?” inquired George, who knew very well
that he had done nothing of the kind.
“Not much!” was Dick’s reply. “If he had, we wouldn’t be as hungry as we
are now. We went to sleep on the hay, after we had frightened the
robbers away from the house, and the first thing we heard this morning
was a war-whoop, and the first thing we saw, after we had got our eyes
open, was old Stebbins, who was standing in the barn door, with a
shotgun in his hands.”
“It was pointed straight at my head, too,” said Bob; “and I really
thought, by the way the old fellow talked and acted, that he was going
to turn loose on me. I believe he would, too, if it hadn’t been for
Dick, who—You don’t understand it, do you?” he added, seeing that George
was greatly surprised and bewildered. “Sit down here, and I will begin
at the beginning, and tell you all about it. Breakfast can wait.”
Bob settled back into an easy position on the bench, while George seated
himself by his side, and listened with much interest to the story of his
friends’ adventure, which was related substantially as follows:
When Dick and Bob returned to the village, with the fine string of bass
they had caught on the preceding Saturday, they quickly found themselves
surrounded by a crowd of their schoolmates, who asked a thousand and one
questions regarding their experience in the woods, and demanded the
privilege of accompanying them on their next excursion.
There were some in the crowd whom the lucky fishermen would not have
taken out to the lake with them under any consideration whatever—mean,
overbearing fellows, who always wanted their own way in everything, and
who would not have seen any pleasure in the trip themselves, or allowed
their companions to see any.
Others there were, whose presence would have added to everybody’s
enjoyment; but George’s quarters were small, and, as he had not told
them to bring any of their friends with them when they came again, the
boys did not feel authorized to issue any invitations. They gave away
the most of their bass, the principal, of course, coming in for the
lion’s share.
It is probable that the good man enjoyed his Sunday morning breakfast,
or else Dick and Bob behaved themselves better and gained a greater
number of credit marks than the rest of the students, for they were the
only ones among a dozen or more applicants who received permission to
spend the next Saturday at the lake.
They packed their baskets on Friday morning, gave their guns and
fishing-rods a good rubbing up, and at a quarter-past four in the
afternoon they were on their way to the woods; but they got lost before
they were fairly out of sight of the village.
They were quite certain they had taken the right road, but it did not
seem at all familiar to them. When Bob said this, George broke in with:
“When you were traveling that same road last Saturday, did you stop
every now and then to look behind you?”
No, Bob couldn’t say that they did. In fact, he couldn’t see that there
was any need of it, for they were going toward the village, and not
toward the lake.
“That was the very reason why you ought to have taken your bearings
occasionally,” said George. “Hereafter, when you are traveling through a
piece of woods with which you are not acquainted, make it a point to
stop every quarter of a mile or so and look back, being careful to note
the shape of the trees and the lay of the land. If you will do that you
will never get lost, for your eye will be sure to rest on some landmark
that you will recognize when you return.”
Bob remarked that he would bear that in mind, and went on with his
story.
They must have strayed away from the main thoroughfare, he said, for all
of a sudden the road they were following came to an end in a brush-heap.
They tried to retrace their steps but found they couldn’t do it; and the
longer they walked, the more hopelessly bewildered did they become.
Knowing that the lake lay somewhere to the north of them, they took the
points of the compass from the sun, which had by this time sunk so low
in the west that his beams just touched the tops of the tallest trees,
and, making no further effort to find the road they had lost, they drew
a bee-line through the woods, scrambling over fallen logs and forcing
their way with difficulty through the dense thickets of trees and bushes
that lay in their path.
For a time, they held their course with tolerable accuracy, but when the
sun set and the woods became so dark that they could scarcely see each
other’s faces, Dick Langdon, who was a city boy and entirely
unaccustomed to severe and long-continued exertion, declared that he was
completely fagged out, and that he could not possibly go any further.
“My back aches under this heavy pack, and my gun and rod seem to weigh a
ton,” said he, with a despairing groan. “We can’t find George’s cabin
to-night.”
“And I have my doubts about finding it in the morning,” said Bob,
cheerfully. “If you want to camp here all night, scrape some of these
dry leaves together and start a blaze, while I look around for some
firewood.”
“I wish now that we had shot some of the squirrels that had the
impudence to bark at us as we came along,” said Dick, depositing his
heavy basket at the foot of the nearest tree, and drawing together a
pile of leaves, as his companion had requested. “They would have made a
good supper for us; but, as it is, we shall have to be satisfied with
bread and butter and a cup of tea. Hand out the matches.”
“I have none. Didn’t you bring some with you?”
“No. I didn’t suppose we should need any.”
Bob uttered a low, long-drawn whistle.
“Here’s the mischief to pay, and nothing to pay it with,” said he.
“We’ve got a gloomy night before us, Dick, but that needn’t worry you
any. It’s nothing when you get used to it.”
“No matches!” exclaimed Dick, trying to pierce the almost impenetrable
darkness with eyes that must have been very badly frightened, for they
persisted in transforming every tree and bush into some dangerous beast
that was about to open hostilities. “No matches!” he repeated, shivering
all over as the mournful hoot of a distant owl came faintly to his ears.
“Bob, I wouldn’t stay here all night without fire for all the money
there is in America.”
“Why, what’s the matter?” asked Bob, who was very much surprised.
As it was nothing new for him to pass a night in the woods, he didn’t
care whether he had a fire to sit by or not, and he could not imagine
why his companion should exhibit so much timidity.
“There is nothing in this country bigger than a raccoon—”
“I know that,” interrupted Dick; “but I don’t want to stay here in the
dark. I would much rather go on, tired as I am.”
“All right,” replied Bob, who thought so much of Dick that he was
willing to do anything that would add to his comfort. “Grab hold of my
coat-tail, and I will lead you out of this, if I can. Keep your arm
before your face, so the bushes will not hit you when they fly back.”
“He’d make a good one to spend a night in the mountains, where grizzlies
and panthers are plenty, wouldn’t he?” added Bob to himself. “If he is
startled by the hoot of an owl, how would he act while listening to such
a serenade as a pack of gray wolves could give him?”
Bob was hungry and tired, too, and would have preferred a cold bite and
a sound sleep under the lee of some friendly log to a fatiguing tramp
through the woods that were almost pitch dark; but still, he did not
complain.
Using the butt of his fishing-rod as a cane, he felt his way through the
darkness, and presently, to his great surprise, as well as delight, he
found himself on solid ground, and saw the stars looking down at him
through an opening in the trees.
“I declare, Dick, we have stumbled upon the road at last,” he said; and
in order to make sure of it, he bent down and passed his hand over the
ground. “It is the road,” he repeated, “for I can feel the ruts made by
the wheels. Now, let’s hurry on, and we will soon find out how far we
are from Mr. Stebbins’ barn. I don’t suppose the old fellow will like
it—”
“We don’t care whether he likes it or not,” broke in Dick, who was so
weary that he could hardly drag one foot after the other. “We’ll sleep
there, all the same, and if we leave in the morning before he comes out,
he will never know that we have been near his old barn.”
Fortunately, the sheltering roof of which they were now in search was
not far away.
About half a mile further on, they came to the sheep pasture, and, when
they had crossed it, they found themselves standing in front of Mr.
Stebbins’ barn, which was no whit darker or gloomier than the
dwelling-house that was but a short distance away.
It was evident that the owner of the premises had gone to bed, and, as
they knew better than to arouse him in order to obtain permission to
sleep on the hay, they opened the door and entered without ceremony; but
they could not close the door behind them, for the only fastening that
had been provided for it was a wooden pin, which fitted into an auger
hole on the outside of the casing.
Having seen the inside of the barn in broad daylight, the boys knew just
how it was arranged, and consequently they had no difficulty in finding
a way to the hay-mow.
Dick threw himself down upon it with a sigh of relief, and prepared to
go to sleep; while Bob, whose empty stomach had long been calling for
something nourishing, thrust his hand into his basket and finally fished
out a sandwich.
“Better take a bite before you go off into the land of dreams,” he said
to his companion. “We shall have no breakfast until we reach George’s
cabin, and that is at least two miles from here.”
Dick was too sleepy to make any response; so Bob left off bothering him,
and sat there in the dark, munching his sandwich and wondering what the
academy fellows would say when they learned that he, a born
backwoodsman, had been lost in a little piece of timber that was
scarcely larger than one of his father’s sheep-farms.
He came very near falling asleep while he was thinking about it; but,
all on a sudden, he was aroused to full consciousness by the sound of
voices and footsteps outside the barn. An instant later, a head was
thrust in at the open door. Bob could see it very distinctly, because it
was between him and the light; but the eyes that belonged to the head
could not distinguish Bob’s form, for the barn was as dark as a pocket.
“It is a party of our fellows who have taken French leave, found their
way up here by accident, and who intend to have a day’s sport at
fishing, in spite of the principal’s prohibition,” thought Bob, as he
rested his elbows on his knees, and waited to see what the newcomers
were going to do. “As the owner of this hotel is not present, and Dick
is fast asleep, I think it nothing more than fair that I should act as
master of ceremonies and give them a hearty greeting.”
Before he could act on this resolution, the newcomers entered the barn.
There were three of them, and Bob saw at once that they had come there
with a well-defined object in view, for they said and did some things
that astonished and alarmed him.