Boy Scouts in the Maine Woods; Or, The New Test for the Silver Fox Patrol, Page 4

  CHAPTER IV.

  A TERROR THAT CAME IN THE NIGHT.

  Why, the second tent had utterly left the place where Thad rememberedthey had erected it. He had just a fleeting glimpse of something dingywhite careering along over the ground among the trees, and then itvanished.

  But there was a high time going on near by, where the contents of theinterior of the late tent were scattered around. Blankets heaved, andlegs were thrust out, while the owners of the same were screaming at thetop of their voices.

  "Oh! what is this?" bellowed Bumpus, who seemed to be almost smotheredunder the folds of his blanket, which he must have had up over his headat the time the catastrophe came upon them.

  "It's a hurricane, that's what, and our bally old tent has been carriedaway!" shouted Giraffe. "Hang on to anything you can grab, fellers, oryou may be taken next! Whoop! let her come! I've got hold of a treenow!"

  "Not much you have," remarked Thad, "that's my leg you're hanging on to.Let go, and we'll soon find out what happened."

  "Ain't it a storm after all then?" demanded Step Hen, as he camecreeping out under the canvas of the back of the one tent that had beenleft standing, with most of his clothes hugged tightly in his grip, asthough he did not mean to be utterly left without something to keep himwarm, if the worst had befallen them.

  Thad had by now gleaned an inkling of the truth. And it was so utterlyridiculous that he felt as though he must soon burst into peals oflaughter.

  "First tell me if anybody was hurt?" he demanded, feeling that it wouldbe wrong to show any merriment if such should prove to be the case.

  "I don't know," remarked Giraffe; "seemed to me something heavy camesquash down on top of me like a thousand of bricks. Mebbe it was onlythe tent pole falling. Guess I ain't hurt much."

  "How about you, Allan?" asked Thad, hardly thinking it worth while toask Bumpus, who seemed to be all right; though he was already beginningto dance around, as the nipping fingers of Jack Frost got busy with histhinly covered shanks, about which he had only his flimsy pajamas overhis underclothes.

  "Never happened to step on me, though he came within three inches of myback!" replied the Maine boy; and there was something about his words totell that Allan must already have guessed what had been the cause forall this commotion, and the stealing of their tent.

  Bumpus caught at the words.

  "What's all that?" he demanded quickly; "was it the work of some meanfeller, after all? Hey, is that the way your old Cale Martin gets in hiswork, sneakin' up in the dead of night, when we're all sleepin' asinnocent as the babes in the woods, and snatchin' off our covers beforeyou could wink an eye, or say Jack Robinson? Well, I like his nerve,that's what; and he'd better look out how he keeps on tryin' tricks ontravelers. Say, he switched our tent, too!" and Bumpus gave a whistle,as well as his trembling lips would allow, to emphasize his disgust.

  "You can thank your lucky stars old fellow," said Allan, "that he didn'tplant one of his hoofs square on your stomach."

  "Hoofs!" echoed Bumpus, aghast; "say, then it wasn't that old poacherafter all, was it? Hoofs? That must mean it was an animal. Looky here,somebody get the fire started again, so we won't shake to pieces whilewe're hunting our clothes, and listening to the explanation of thislatest outrage."

  "Oh! let Davy do it," said Giraffe; "I'm nearly frozen stiff myselfright now; and besides," he added as a brilliant after-thought, "youknow I don't carry matches with me any more. And of course you wouldn'twant to wait while I swung my little bow."

  "Where's my left shoe?" shouted Step Hen just then; for there never wasa time when he could find _all_ his belongings; and in a case ofexcitement like this it was a certainty that his customary complaintwould soon be heard in the land. "Who's gone and took my left shoe? I'mdead certain I had both of 'em when I started to crawl under the canvas.Somebody thinks it smart to keep playin' jokes on _me_ all thetime. Why can't they let _my_ things be, Thad?"

  "What's that sticking out of the pocket of your coat?" asked Allan, asDavy managed to strike a match, and apply the fire to the only lanternthey carried with them on the trip.

  "Why, whoever stuck that in there?" Step Hen went on, unblushingly."Thinks it smart to do such silly things, and have me guessing all thetime. Just switch off, and try it on one of the others, won't you?"

  Knowing that he must have undoubtedly placed the shoe in that pockethimself in the haste of his departure from the tent that remained, StepHen did not dare accuse any one in particular; but glared around atvacancy when thus addressing his supposed-to-be enemy.

  But they were so accustomed to his failings by now that no one paid muchattention to what he was saying. In fact, it would have been a cause forastonishment if twenty-four hours ever slipped past without an outburstfrom Step Hen in connection with some of his personal belongings, thatseemed to have taken wings in the most mysterious fashion, and vanished,although they always turned up again.

  "But what sort of an animal was it, Thad?" asked Bumpus, still dancingabout, and slapping himself in every conceivable place in order to keephis blood in circulation.

  "Ask Jim, or Eli," replied the patrol leader, who was really too busyjust then getting some of his own clothes, to bother answering.

  So the others turned to the two guides, who, not having removed any oftheir ordinary garments, did not feel the chilly night air as much asthe lads.

  "What was it banged us over, Eli?" asked Bumpus.

  "Moose bull on the rampage!" replied the Maine woodsman, readily enough.

  "A great big moose like that one we shot a while ago!" echoed Bumpus,showing great excitement. "Just my luck. Why, if he'd heard that I had anew gun, and was waiting to see what it could do, he couldn't have beenkinder. Just knocked at our door; and when nobody answered him he wentaway again, and by jinks! carried the door and the rest of the housewith him. However in the wide world do you suppose that happened, Eli? Iguess you ought to know, because you're acquainted with the queer waysof these woods' critters."

  "Never knew such a thing before in all my experience in woods," assertedthe older guide, shaking his head. "Fire was out, wind blowing wrong wayfor moose to smell human critters; and he must a thought he heard'nother bull on the edge o' ther water, wantin' to fight him. Anyhow hejest natchrally tore right through that tent. It got fast to his horns,and he's been an' kerried it off."

  "Oh! what tough luck. If I'd only been on the watch I'd have the honorof shooting the first moose that took to wearin' clothes human way,"groaned Bumpus.

  "D'ye suppose, then, he's keepin' our bally tent; and won't we ever seteyes on the same again?" asked Giraffe, holding his chilled hands outtoward the fire that in Davy's charge had been revived again until itsent out a genial warmth.

  "Soon know," remarked Jim, who had a personal interest in the matter,seeing that the purloined canvas belonged to him; though of course heknew that his employers would stand for any loss he incurred whileworking in their service.

  He took the lantern, and started away. Thad had managed to get some ofhis clothes on by this time, and he hurried after the shorter guide, whoseemed to know exactly in which direction to pursue his investigations.

  "I can see something ahead there," Thad remarked, presently.

  "That's the tent, all right," remarked Jim. "I only hopes as how sheain't too bad cut up now. 'Twas nearly new, and good, and stout; so Iguess the ole chap he had some trouble gettin' loose from the same."

  They found the tent where it had caught on a sprout, and torn free fromthe branching antlers of the moose, commonly called his horns.

  "Not so bad after all," remarked Jim, when he had examined the extent ofthe damage made by the tent's being so forcibly carried off. "I kinpatch it up easy, when I gits a chance in the boat, to-morry. Guess ashaow we gut off right smart, all things considerin', Thad."

  And the young scoutmaster was ready to echo these words, when he got tothinking how one of a dozen things might have accompanied the mad rushof the moose through the camp.


  They never did know what had really caused his charge; whether somevindictive spirit of rage provoked the huge beast; or that he fancied arival bull were challenging him to mortal combat, just as in the case ofthe fellow, whom Sebattis had previously lured within gunshot, with hisseductive moose call.

  The balance of the night gave them only broken sleep; because of thesudden and rude shock of this awakening. Bumpus hugged his new gun closeto his side; and raised his head so often to listen, that both Giraffeand Allan vowed they would be compelled to chase him outside if hedidn't get busy, and capture some sleep right away.

  Morning came in due time, and they found that little damage had beendone by the rush of the moose, beyond some rents in the canvas of thetent.

  Once more they started forth, and all that day plodded on, making manymiles, and by evening reaching the spot where Jim said they could havetheir canoes and luggage carried over to Portage Lake by a man he knew,who owned a team and a wagon.

  "How far is it across from here?" asked Thad, seeking information.

  "Depends on what way yuh go thar," replied Jim, "but I guesses as Nickhe likes the three mile carry best. Start fresh in the mornin' sure."

  After they had partaken of an early supper Jim went off to find hisfriend who owned the team, while the others busied themselves gettingtheir belongings in as small a compass as possible, looking forward towhat was expected to happen on the following morning.

  Later, when Jim came back, he reported that he had interviewed Nick, andmade all necessary arrangements with him to take the three canoes, andthe stuff that went with them, across the carry in the morning. The boyswere expected to walk and if necessary push at the wheels of the wagon,should it get stuck in a creek bed of soft quicksand.

  The night passed quietly, and all hands managed to put in plenty of timesleeping, to make up for the loss of the previous one. In the morningthe loud "whoa" of a stentorian voice announced the arrival of theexpected team. They proved to be oxen instead of horses, and once thecanoes, and other stuff, had been loaded on the big low wagon, thejourney commenced.

  Slow progress was the order of the day. Giraffe grumbled, but it did nogood. And it was really noon when they finally came in sight of thelake.

  The canoes were gladly launched, a light lunch eaten, the teamster paidoff, and then again the voyage was resumed under a favoring sky; for theair was bracing, and so far not a sign of the first snow storm had madeits appearance, though the guides warned their charges to be preparedfor the worst, as a downfall was nearly due.

  A cold wind was blowing from the northwest so that the wise guideshugged the sheltered shore of Portage Lake, since the waves were ofpretty good size, and the flying spray would be far from pleasant insuch weather.

  Finally they reached the place where the lake had its outlet into asmall stream, that, after flowing for a number of miles, emptied intothe Lower Lake of the great and famous Eagle chain.

  On the shore of this lake then, they made their next camp. From thegrave manner of Jim, the scoutmaster easily guessed that they must bynow have entered the territory where Cale Martin, the slippery oldpoacher, held forth. Jim seemed to look about him more than before. Healso started at the least unusual sound, showing that while he might tryto disguise the fact, he was really nervous. Still, he did not give theslightest indication of showing the white feather, or backing down,before a dozen like Cale Martin.

  Davy had purchased a little snapshot camera at the town below, and alsosome flashlight cartridges with which he wished to get some views of thegroup around the camp-fire at night. No one had made any effort toperpetuate such scenes which Davy declared were the very best part ofthe whole trip. And now that they had become fairly launched upon thejourney he was aching to start into business with his new outfit.

  Davy knew a little about taking pictures, although far from being anexpert. He had never used flashlight powders, or cartridges before; andafter reading all the directions carefully, he declared he felt preparedto take a picture that would be viewed with the greatest satisfaction inthe world by all his chums, when this great Maine vacation were only amemory of the past.

  So Davy warned his campmates not to be alarmed if there suddenly flashedupon them a great light.

  "I'd like to get you all in characteristic attitudes, if I could--thatwas the way the feller who sold me the camera called it; and he said thebest pictures were the natural ones. What I mean is, that if I couldgrab Step Hen here, for instance, with that silly look of his on hisface, saying: 'Anybody seen my camp hatchet around? Funny how it'salways _my_ things that get carried off! The jinx never hidesanything belonging to _you_ fellers!' I'd have something worthwhile."

  "Oh! come off, will you, Davy; if I thought I looked like you say, I'dlet all my traps disappear every day but what I'd kick up a row," andStep Hen assumed an air of indignation with these words that caused ageneral laugh to go around.

  Of course it had to be explained to the two guides, for they were to bein the picture, smoking their pipes contentedly; and apparently Elitelling a story, to which the rest of the scouts were listening eagerly,possibly laughing.

  Having fixed things to his satisfaction, Davy disappeared, slipping awayfrom the camp-fire on the side he had decided upon as offering the bestnatural advantages for a flashlight view.

  They could not see him, but guessed that he was working his way towardthem as slily as he could; since he had announced that he meant to playthe part of an enemy, stealing up to spy upon the camp.

  Presently they did manage to get Eli started telling a story; for Thadknew it would be better for the picture if the guides seemed natural,and not on parade.

  Meanwhile Davy was creeping forward, intent on reaching the place he hadpicked out beforehand, and where, without exposing himself, he could sethis camera, and then fire the cartridge.

  When to his uneducated mind--in the line of photography--Davy had thingsjust about to his liking, he held himself in readiness for what hedeemed an extra fine view, when the boys were laughing heartily at theclimax of Eli's queer story of a scrape he once found himself in thatwas really humorous, though at the time it may have appeared anythingbut that to the actor.

  "Now!" said Davy, partly to himself, as he fired his cartridge.

  There was a sudden brilliant and dazzling flash, that must have been asfierce as the display of lightning when the bolt hits close at hand. Andwhile those at the fire were schooled to repress their natural alarm,evidently the same could not be said of a looker-on not counted in thebill; for there was a hoarse cry of alarm from the bushes across theway, and the sound of crashing seemed to tell of a precipitate flight.