THE 'COON PHOTOGRAPHER
"Lightning! Why, we're going to have a storm!" exclaimed X-Ray Tyson.
They were all beginning to feel somewhat tired, and Lub must have had as
many as six or seven little "cat-naps." The fire was burning cheerily
and the interior of the cabin pretty close, despite the fact that the
door had been left wide open.
"Well, let her rain," muttered Lub. "We haven't anything to get wet,
outside of our canoe, and it won't hurt that."
Phil had arisen to his feet. There was a peculiar smile on his face,
Ethan saw. He looked satisfied about something.
"I hope you fellows can spare me the lantern for a little while," he
said.
"Well, that's queer!" observed Lub, in bewilderment.
"What's doing, Phil?" demanded X-Ray Tyson.
"I think I'll go out and get my camera," the other returned.
Then Ethan chuckled.
"I thought that was what it must have been, Phil," he observed, dryly.
"Oh! I see," Lub went on to say; "afraid of the rain, of course. Well, I
suppose it would ruin the thing to get it wet."
"Too bad you've had all that work for nothing, Phil," yawning as he said
this X-Ray tried to look sympathetic; but was really too sleepy to be
anything but ridiculous.
"Oh! I don't know about that," Phil told him, as he picked up the
lantern; "I've got a hunch that the thing's been played to the end of
the string."
Ethan chuckled some more. Both Lub and X-Ray opened their eyes and began
to realize that there was something more to this thing than they had
grasped.
"Whatever can you mean by that?" asked Lub; while the fourth boy,
quicker to catch things, cried out:
"Oh! then that wasn't a flash of lightning after all, Phil?"
"After a kind, it was," Phil went on to say. "In fact, I believe my trap
has been sprung. Mr. 'Coon was early on the trail to-night. I'd better
go and see. If the thing's happened, no need of leaving the camera out
all night, and take chances of a shower. Coming along with me, Ethan?"
"Sure thing!" declared the other, who had only been waiting for an
invitation, as Phil very well knew from the eager look in his eyes.
They soon arrived on the spot.
"It's all right," observed Phil, immediately.
"Trap's sprung, you mean?" asked his comrade.
"Yes, you can see where the bait has been carried away from the place
where I fixed it," he was told, as Phil pointed out where the cord ran.
"I guess the flash gave the poor old 'coon the scare of his life," Ethan
went on to say, considerably amused.
It was an object with Phil to encourage this interest on the part of his
chum. Accordingly, after gathering up the camera and flashlight
apparatus he had Ethan closely examine the marks that were plainly seen
about the place where the bait had attracted the attention of the little
animal.
As has been said before, Ethan was a practical woodsman, and knew a
great deal about all things connected with outdoor life. Trailing had
long been one of his particular hobbies; hence, he was able to tell just
what must have happened there.
"Here's where the 'coon came along, just as he'd likely done on many
another night when he felt fish hungry. And about here, Phil, he began
to get a whiff of that green corn you fetched with you to use as bait."
"How do you make that out?" asked the other, partly for information, and
also with the idea of keeping up Ethan's interest, which he could easily
see was growing right along.
"Why, the marks have a different look," Ethan explained. "He stopped
right here to sniff, and then went forward on the run, all caution
thrown to the winds."
"That took him up to the bait?" suggested Phil.
"Yes, and you bet he didn't waste a single second laying hold of the
same," Ethan ventured, positively, just as though he might be watching
the entire performance with his own eyes, instead of figuring it out.
"Like as not it's been a long time since this particular 'coon had a
chance at an ear of juicy green corn," observed Phil. "Perhaps he never
even saw one before, but his instinct told him what a good thing was
when he ran across it."
"As he began to pull at the cob, meaning to carry it off to his den,
there came that dazzling white flash," Ethan continued.
"It petrified the 'coon for the instant," explained Phil, "that happens
in nearly every case. If you look close you'll find that the animal
always has a startled expression. I rather think any of us would if a
flash like that blinded us just when we'd started to pick up the biggest
watermelon in the patch."
"It frightened Mr. 'Coon away, of course," said Ethan.
"But he may sneak back here again before morning," laughed Phil. "You
can see where his teeth cut into the green corn, and the memory of that
one taste will make him ready to take chances again."
He dropped the half ear of corn on the ground as he spoke.
"You mean that the poor old chap isn't going to be cheated out of his
fine treat, eh, Phil?"
"He deserves something," was the reply, "because I reckon he's given me
a cracking good picture. I want him to know I appreciate his pull at my
latch string."
This closed the incident, but on the way back Ethan continued to ask
numerous questions. These the other always answered to the best of his
ability, for it was his desire to interest Ethan more and more.
And Phil felt satisfied when, just before they arrived at the cabin
Ethan gave expression to an admission:
"Well, I'm ready to own up, Phil, that if for any reason I couldn't have
a gun, or use one because the law was on all game, I _might_ take some
stock in hunting by flashlight, and with a camera."
"And the knowledge you have, Ethan, of wild animals' ways would make you
a master hand at the game, if ever you bothered taking it up."
"Think so?" remarked the other, naturally pleased at this sort of
appreciation on Phil's part.
"I'm sure of it," he was told.
Nothing more was said at the time. Phil felt positive, however, that he
could count on Ethan's cooperation so long as they remained at Birch
Bark Lodge.
It was not long before they all sought their bunks.
The night passed without any alarm. Lub had assured his comrades they
need have no fear of any unwelcome guest dropping down the chimney
again. He had insured against such an event happening; and apparently
felt the utmost confidence in his own invention, for he seemed to drop
asleep almost as soon as he settled down in his blanket.
Again in the morning they enjoyed their plunge in the lake, although Lub
had to be strongly urged before he consented to join them.
When he mentioned trout he was gently but firmly told that it was folly
to whip a willing horse.
"Don't let's have fish every meal," urged X-Ray Tyson, "or we'll all be
sprouting gills and dorsal fins and scales. Once a day after this ought
to satisfy the trout hunger. Now it seems to me that's a bully good fire
for camp flapjacks."
"Just what it is," agreed Ethan with enthusiasm.
"That suits me all right," Phil agreed, "and we all know the kind you
can make, Lub. If you want any help, call on me."
"Oh! it's only a pleasure to me, so long as I know my efforts are
appreciated," said Lub, just as they all knew he would.
The flapjacks must have been good, for not a piece of one was left after
the four boys had finished breakfast. And they even had the audacity to
bait Lub on top of it.
"Don't care how soon you repeat that mess, Lub," observed Phil.
"Never tasted their equal," confessed Ethan.
"And as for me," said the wicked X-Ray, "I'll sure dream of the treat
to-night, see if I don't."
Whereupon, of course, Lub set about figuring out just how the little
sack of self-raising flour would hold out, if he made flapjacks every
single morning of their stay in camp.
Lub was a lovable camp mate, and so easily imposed upon. But then his
chums were just as ready to do things for him in turn.
Later on in the morning, seeing that the rival fishermen had started out
again to depopulate the lake, and Lub was busy cleaning up around the
cabin, Phil took a notion to wander off.
He meant to cover quite some little territory this time, his object
being to see if he could catch a glimpse of a deer. Of course he carried
his camera along, because it was always possible that some good chance
might arise where he could use it to advantage.
Phil believed in being ready. He was a hunter, and knew how exasperating
it was to run across tempting game when one's gun had been left at home.
Half an hour later he found himself wandering through a section of woods
that looked very promising. He fancied he caught a sound, and it was of
such a peculiar nature that Phil stopped still to listen.
Yes, it was not the "whiff" of a startled deer or moose, but struck the
astonished boy more like the wailing cry of a distressed child.