The leader of the Wolf Patrol laughed
when he heard Lil Artha make this remark.
“Every word that you are saying,
Lil Artha, is the truth,” he announced.
“I’ve been watching those ragged edges
of bushes myself. You see, the time might come
after a while when I’d get mixed on the directions
given by Johnny Spreen. Then I’d want to
have some other scheme so as to find my way.”
“But after a bit, Elmer, we’ll
get to a spot where Johnny changed his course from
one day to another, as he went to different traps;
how’re we meaning to regulate our hunt then?”
asked Toby.
“We’ve got to search the
best way we can for the missing skiff,” Elmer
explained. “If only we can find it hauled
up somewhere on the bank we’ll know they went
ashore at that point, don’t you see?”
“Why, how eathy!” declared
Ted, evidently lost in admiration for the simplicity
of the scheme, that could never have occurred to him
before.
“Oh! then, if that’s the
case I reckon we’d better not be making quite
so much racket as we go along,” said Mark.
“I was just going to remark
about that,” the patrol leader added. “If
all of a sudden we found the boat, and had been talking
loud, or laughing, the chances are the game would
give us the slip. So after this whoever is doing
the pushing try not to splash more than you can help;
and when you talk do it in whispers.”
Perhaps all this mystery added to
the pleasure of such a fellow as Lil Artha; at least
his eyes were sparkling much more than their wont as
he continued to ply his pole with the air of a Venetian
gondolier along the Grand Canal.
Once, however, he must have rammed
it too hard into the yielding ooze, for when he tried
to pull it out there was considerable resistance.
Lil Artha managed to stop the moving skiff in time
to save himself; even then he might have been pulled
overboard only that watchful Mark, anticipating something
of the sort, threw his arms around the long legs of
the pusher, and held on grimly until the pole could
be extricated.
An hour, two of them had slipped by
since parting from Johnny Spreen. They were now
in the heart of the swamp. All around them lay
a solemn silence broken only by the splash of a bullfrog
leaping from a bank, the gurgle of some water snake
or the solemn croak of a bittern fishing near by,
followed by the flap of its wings as it flew away,
alarmed by their approach.
All of the boys were more or less
impressed by this strange silence. It seemed
as though some heavy weight were pressing down upon
them. Toby even whispered to one of his mates
that it could hardly be worse if they were passing
through a country graveyard at midnight.
At the same time, all of them being
bright, wide-awake fellows, there were plenty of interesting
things continually cropping up to arouse their interest
as scouts. Every minute or so someone was calling
attention to this or that thing, though never forgetting
the need of caution.
If at any time a voice was raised
more than Elmer deemed wise, a single “hist”
from his lips caused the speaker to moderate his tones
instantly.
By now they were not so much concerned
about where they went as the possibility of finding
the missing skiff. Eager eyes were ever on the
alert. A number of times Lil Artha, or it might
be Toby or Chatz, felt a sudden thrill as some object
caught their attention ahead, which at first glance
seemed to open up great possibilities. Then as
they moved closer and a better chance came to investigate,
deep disappointment and chagrin would follow; for
after all it turned out to be only the end of a log,
or some such simple thing, and not the stern of the
old skiff at all.
Elmer happened to be a little ahead
of the other boat at the time Chatz, consulting his
nickel watch, found it was just ten o’clock.
When he showed this to Toby the latter grinned as though
very much pleased.
“I nominated ten, didn’t
I, Chatz?” he remarked in a low tone; “when
you asked me to take a squint up at the sun, and say
what the hour might be?”
“You certainly hit it that time
in the bull’s-eye, suh,” admitted the
Southern lad; “and I confess that I thought it
half an hour later. I’m still some shy,
it seems, on telling time by the sun and stars.”
A low hiss from Elmer just then, as
he wielded the pole, caused the two scouts to stop
talking, and turn their attention to what was going
on. The first thing they discovered was that
the skiff was now heading for the near shore.
Then looking further the boys could see that evidently
someone must have camped there, for to the practiced
eye many things indicated as much.
When the prow of the flat-bottomed
boat ran gently up on the shore, at a low order from
the skipper, Ted, who happened to be further up in
the bow than any of the others, jumped to the land
and began to draw the skiff up.
There was a bank several feet high
just beyond, but Ted waited until the others had also
disembarked before attempting to ascend this.
By now the other boat had also reached shore, with
its crew tumbling out, though avoiding any sign of
confusion, for they were pretty well drilled in the
elements of obedience to orders, as all true scouts
should be.
No sooner had the boys gained the
higher ground than they readily discovered that it
had been the site of a camp at some time in the not
far-distant past.
A number of things told them this,
chief of which might be mentioned the little pile
of dead ashes that lay in plain sight. They could
even see the sticks that the unknown party had used
when cooking some sort of meat close to the red coals.
All of them gathered around.
Elmer gravely examined the ashes, while the others
eagerly waited to hear his decision.
“Quite some time old,”
said the leader at last, having figured out the solution
by means of certain rules well known to those who have
made woodcraft a study. “At least a couple
of rains have passed over since this fire was left.
There are no footprints that I can see. That
also goes to show it was some time ago; but I think
it was only one person who camped here.”
He pointed as he spoke to where soft
hemlock browse had been gathered as if for the purpose
of forming a couch; and there being but a single bed
even Landy could guess Elmer was correct when he said
one party had made the temporary camp.
“Then it must have been the
unknown man,” said Lil Artha, “and our
chum Hen wasn’t along at the time.”
They moved around as if looking for
further signs, because scouts are always keen to find
tell-tale marks that will add to the size of the edifice
they are building up, founded partly on conjecture
and also on “give-away” facts.
Lil Artha it was who emitted a low
whistle, and the others glancing up, well knowing
that he must have made some sort of important discovery,
saw him waving one of his hands to them-he
held the Marlin double-barrel with the other, of course.
“See that?” he told them
when they reached his side amidst the bushes adjacent
to the little opening where the long-cold fire ashes
lay.
“Feathers, for a cookey!”
exclaimed Toby, “and a heap of the same, too.”
“Now we know what he cooked
on the ends of those sticks!” observed Mark.
“Yeth, and now we know where
one of Farmer Trotter’s henth went to,”
added Ted.
“This is more than Johnny ever
ran across,” remarked Lil Artha, “because
he only guessed the chicken thief was hiding in the
swamp, for he’d seen tracks. Hold on,
he did say there was ashes, too, at the place he picked
up that filed half-circle of steel, but it must have
been in a different place from this.”
“Well, it’s only a little
incident after all,” said Elmer, “and doesn’t
tell us much that we didn’t know before.”
“Only that we’re on the
track of those lost chickens, you know,” chuckled
the tall scout. “But see here, Elmer, if
they made a fizzle of their raid last night, how d’ye
suppose they’re going to keep from starving
to death in here?”
“Ask me something easy, please,”
retorted the other; “though if I was in their
place I think I could manage to keep alive. There
are lots of ways for doing that, if you only stop
to think.”
“Sure there are,” spoke
up Toby, eager to show that he had learned his lesson
fairly well, even though not claiming to be as expert
at some things as were Elmer and Lil Artha.
“Now, with some cord and a bait I reckon rabbits
could be trapped or snared. Then gray squirrels
are plenty in here, if only you found a nest of the
same in a hollow tree.”
“And,” added Landy with
a yearning vein in his voice, “haven’t
we seen whopping big green-back bullfrogs aplenty?
If there’s one dish I’m fond of more
than any other, that’s fried frogs’ legs.
Yum! yum, don’t I wish we could spare the time
to knock over a dozen of those bullies.”
“Not while we’re on such
a duty as we started out to fulfill, Landy,”
Elmer advised the fat scout.
“Then there are fish in these
waters, too, fat sunfish as big as any I ever set
eyes on,” continued Toby; “and when you’re
hungry they taste prime, though I hate the bones,
and came near choking to death once on a sunny.
Worse than pickerel, according to my mind, and that’s
saying a lot. Oh! I guess a smart fellow
with matches to make fires, could manage to keep the
wolf from his door in here all right.”
“But all men are not up to one-tenth
of the resources known to Boy Scouts,” ventured
Elmer, “which is why they generally have to rely
on staving off hunger by raiding the chicken roosts
of poor farmers. That’ll be enough for
this time. Suppose we get aboard again, and
continue our exploration of Sassafras Swamp.”
“It’s a sure-enough big
patch of mud and water and brush and mystery,”
admitted Mark, as they began to climb into the boats
again as before.
“And from what Johnny told me
we haven’t seen as much as a tenth of the place
yet,” Elmer assured them; whereat there were
all sorts of incredulous looks to the right and to
the left, as though the magnitude of their task might
by this time be making a stronger impression on the
boys’ minds.
A change was made in pushers as they
started off once more. It turned out to be no
child’s play handling that long, heavy pole which
had a faculty for clinging to the ooze below the surface
of the water, and necessitating more or less exertion
in order to drag it loose each time it was used.
Landy had not taken his turn as yet.
It really looked as though Lil Artha was a little
afraid of the fat scout, for he and Mark had alternated
in doing the work. Landy was not complaining
at all. Indeed, Lil Artha felt sure he could
see a satisfied grin upon the rubicund face of the
happy-go-lucky, fat scout from time to time as he
heard the one at the pole puffing with the exertion.
Perhaps in the end it would prove
to be a case of the “last straw on the camel’s
back,” and Lil Artha, casting discretion to the
winds, would feel impelled to thrust the push-pole
into the inexperienced hands of Landy Smith.
He was evidently putting off the evil hour as long
as he could, fearful of consequences.
So noon came and found them well into
the depths of Sassafras Swamp.
They went ashore to eat their lunch,
Lil Artha begging that they have a small fire and
make a pot of coffee.
“I c’n pick up aplenty
of real dry wood, you know, Elmer,” he went on
to say in his wheedling way, “so that there ain’t
going to be hardly a whiff of smoke that anybody could
see with a field glass. And say, when you’re
all tuckered out with pushing a boat through the grass
and lily-pads, nothing makes you feel so fine as a
brimming cup of coffee. So please say yes, Mister
Scout Master!”
Of course, Elmer could not resist
such a piteous plea as that.
“You could wring tears from
a stone, Lil Artha,” he told the other, laughingly,
“when you put on a face like that. I reckon
we might have a small cooking fire and a pot of coffee.
None of us would object to it, and sandwiches are
dry eating all by themselves, even when you’re
hungry. So go ahead; but no chopping, mind; break
all the small stuff you gather over your knee.”
Landy eagerly assisted, though Lil
Artha kept a watchful eye on what he gathered lest
he mix in green stuff that would make a black smoke
when it burned. Another scout managed to find
a stick with a crotch that would hold the coffee-pot
over the blaze until it had boiled.
The scouts were not in the habit of
putting up with such apologies for comfort as these;
as a rule, when they camped out they had tents, blankets,
and a little spider contraption that folded up in small
compass, and which served as a gridiron stove, being
placed over the red coals, with cooking utensils resting
on the bars.
The coffee was thoroughly enjoyed
by everyone, and a vote of thanks taken for Lil Artha,
who had first suggested making it. Resting for
a short time afterwards, the boys felt refreshed when
once more the task was taken up.
Lil Artha looked at Landy tumbling
contentedly into the middle of the old skiff, and
seemed on the point of saying something; then he shook
his head and picked up the push-pole himself.
“Not yet, but soon it’s
just got to be; only I hope he won’t upset us
all,” Mark heard the tall scout mutter to himself,
nor did he need a further hint to know what was passing
through Lil Artha’s mind; Landy was not going
to evade his share of the arduous labor forever.
It, doubtless, took considerable thinking
and planning on the part of Elmer to make sure they
did not “repeat.” So far, none of
the boys could say as they moved along that they had
ever before seen the stretch of water and scrubby
shore, covered with trees and vines.
This spoke volumes for the smartness
of the young patrol leader, though somehow his chums
did not seem to consider it such a wonderful feat for
Elmer. That is the penalty for being successful;
others expect great things from such a comrade, so
that he is constantly put to his best efforts to satisfy
them.
It must have been quite some time,
perhaps as much as two hours after they had stopped
to eat their lunch when without warning the swamp
explorers met with a surprise that gave them a new
thrill.
At the time, Lil Artha happened to
have passed a little in the lead, though he would
soon be dropping back again, especially when there
came a chance to make a mistake in direction, for
he wanted Elmer to decide such puzzles.
The tall scout must have forgotten
his warning from Elmer, for he cried out:
“Hey! everybody look what we’re
up against! A bear, Elmer, that’s what
it is!”