Thad understood it all now, and the
knowledge gave him a thrill. He thrust out his
hand to the young guide, with boyish enthusiasm.
“Shake, Jim!” he exclaimed.
“I just know you did what any decent man would
have done. And so you managed to run away with
the old man’s daughter, did you? Was she
all he had?”
“On’y Little Lina; an’
he believed the sun rose an’ set in her, like.
They cud all say as Cale Martin war a bad man, an’
he war rough as they make ’em, sumtimes;
but he’d a laid down his life fur thet gal,
any day. I was dead sorry tuh hev tuh do hit;
but I knowed he’d never give in, an’ I
jest cudn’t live without her. We gut outen
this deestrict while Cale war off on a hunt, an’
I hain’t never seen hide nor hair o’ him
sense. But he sent me word thet ef so be I ever
kim back tuh the old stampin’ grounds, he hed
it in fuh me, all right.”
“How long ago was that, Jim?”
“Nigh a yeah an’ er half now,” the
other replied.
“And of course your wife has
often wished she could see her father again, Jim?”
The guide groaned.
“Cried her putty eyes out, awantin’
tuh see her dad,” he admitted; “but what
cud a man do ’bout hit, if Cale, he wudn’t
forgive me? He sent word as haow Lina cud kim
back, but me, never; an’ in course she wudn’t
quit me.”
“But now, Jim; tell me about
who gave you the orders you were saying something
about a while ago?” pursued Thad.
“She done hit, in course,”
answered the other, heaving a sigh. “I knowed
the risk I war takin’, but I’d do a right
smart more fur my Lina.”
“Then as I take it, Jim, you
don’t really want to avoid Old Cale, this fiery
father-in-law of yours; in fact, you mean to see him
face to face?”
“Got ter,” replied the
other, laconically; “’cause she sez so.
Hit may be I kin do hit on the way up to the lakes;
but if not then I’m acomin’ back with
Eli an’ the canoes thisaways, arter yuh gits
aboard ther train; an’ I’ll hang around
this deestrict till we meets. Never’d dar’
show myself tuh her, ‘less I done everything
agoin’ tuh kerry it out.”
“And don’t you feel a
little uneasy about your ears, Jim?”
“Wall, it wudn’t be jest
the nicest thing agoin’ tuh lose ’em; but
she sez as haow Olé Cale, he’s bound tuh
cave when he hears what I gotter tuh tell him.”
Evidently Jim had said all he meant
to, and Thad took the hint.
“Well, all I want to say is
that I admire your nerve, Jim; and the lot of us will
stand back of you if you get in any trouble,”
he remarked, earnestly.
“Hit’s right nice in yuh
tuh say thet, sir, an’ sure I ’predate
hit,” the guide went on to say, with a tremor
in his voice; “but arter all, I guess thar hain’t
goin’ tuh be any row, if me’n Cale, we
kims tergether. I’m willin’ tuh resk
it. But I must say as haow I don’t like
the ijee o’ him asettin’ thar in them
bushes, aimin’ his gun at me. But Cale
Martin’s a squar man, as wudn’t shoot daown
another without givin’ him a show. An’
I guess he jest done it fur fun.”
So Thad went back to the fire, and
sat down. But he did not join in the merry talk
that was going around. His thoughts were wholly
given up to Jim and his story. He liked the short
guide more than ever; and in the same proportion detested
the big Maine backwoodsman whose daughter Jim had
run away with.
Presently some of the boys complained
of feeling sleepy, and arrangements were made for
passing the night.
Both Jim and Eli declared that it
would be only the part of wisdom to keep watch.
There could be no telling what deviltry Cale Martin,
assisted by his two congenial spirits, Si Kedge and
Ed Harkness, might attempt to do. Perhaps, thinking
that it would reflect on the guides if they annoyed
the party whom Eli and Jim were convoying into the
Maine woods, they might even try to set fire to the
camp, and thus spoil the entire trip.
When morning came Thad and Allan had
taken their turn at standing sentry; but none of the
other scouts were called upon, because the leader
did not have the greatest of confidence in their ability
to remain awake, not to mention hearing, and comprehending,
any sounds that might arise, and which spelled danger.
A consultation in the morning showed
that only once had there been heard suspicious sounds.
It was while Allan held the fort; and he declared
that to the best of his knowledge they were far distant
voices on the river. But although he listened
carefully, and was prepared to give the alarm if necessary,
nothing further developed that might be considered
a peril to the camp.
The boys were feeling pretty good
that morning. They had most of them enjoyed a
fine sleep, and were as active as young colts.
Davy in particular seemed to be full
of animal spirits; and when he felt like it, there
was no end of the capers the athletic gymnast could
do. One minute he was hanging from his toes from
a high limb, looking like a monkey; and the next he
had let go, whirled over three times in the air, and
landed lightly on his feet on the soft ground; after
which he would make his little bow, just like the
celebrated performer in the great and only Barnum’s
Circus, after he has thrilled the audience with one
of his marvelous acts.
Bumpus sat and watched all these performances
with open mouth. Secretly the fat boy aspired
to imitate Davy in some of his antics; though Giraffe
always scoffed loudly at the absurd idea of a heavy
weight like Bumpus trying to play the part of a nimble
ape.
Several times had the ambition of
Bumpus got the better of his judgment, and he had
endeavored to follow in the wake of the active member
of the party; but always with disastrous results;
so that for some time now he had taken it out in gaping,
and wishing, and longing for the time to come when
he could get rid of his surplus fat, so that he might
be nimble like Davy.
Giraffe during breakfast was unusually
silent and sober. Thad guessed where his thoughts
were straying, and consequently it did not surprise
him in the least to overhear the tall boy muttering
to himself, while he shook his head stubbornly:
“I c’n do it all right; I just know
I can!”
Step Hen amused himself watching a
sharp-eyed little striped chipmunk stealing some bits
thrown aside from the camp meal. Time was when
Step Hen might have been guilty of trying to hit such
a fair mark with a club or a stone; but that was in
the past. He would not have lifted a finger now
to injure that innocent little creature for worlds;
but sat there, deeply interested in observing every
movement it made, just as if it were a pet.
Jim seemed to be himself again; at
least when Thad looked toward him inquiringly, the
guide nodded his head, and smiled. Evidently Jim
had slept over his trouble, and decided that he was
doing the right thing. For the sake of Little
Lina he was ready to go right along, taking big chances
of losing his precious ears; for only too well did
he know that Old Cale was a man of his word; and that
he must have meant everything he said to the messenger
who bore the threat to Jim.
Davy was wild to develop the film
upon which he had taken that snapshot picture on the
preceding night; but there were a number of obstacles
in the way of doing that. First of all, there
were five other exposures on that roll, as yet untouched;
and as a clinching argument, Davy had not bothered
bringing a developing tank, or printing outfit along
with him, fearing that they would take up too much
room.
And so he would have to be content
to wait until they reached some place where a photographer
held forth, who would undertake to do the job, for
a consideration.
Of course the picture of that breakfast
would hardly be complete without Step Hen suddenly
breaking forth in his customary strain:
“Where’s my oh,
here it is, on my head, of course! How queer that
I should forget I put it there,” and he had
to actually take his hat off, and look at it, as if
hardly able to believe his eyes, and that for once
his anticipated difficulty had been smoothed over so
easily.
Davy joined in the general laugh that
greeted this outbreak; then he walked gravely over,
and insisted on feeling of Step Hen’s neck.
“Hey! what you up to, now, you
Jones boy? Keep your paws off me!” exclaimed
the object of this solicitude, suspiciously dodging.
“I only wanted to make sure
that the connection was sound still,” retorted
the other; “because some fine day, all of us
expect you to lose your head.”
“Well, I’ve seen you lose
yours more’n a few times, when you got flustrated
and excited; and it didn’t seem to hurt much,”
Step Hen retorted.
“There’s a big difference in heads,”
remarked Davy.
“I should say there was,”
replied the other, meaningly; “and the gray
stuff that’s in ’em, too. Some are
hollow, like a punkin; while others, mine for instance,
are just crammed full of thinks.”
“Well, I’d advise you
to use a few of the thinks trying to remember where
you put your belongings; and quit accusing the rest
of us of playing tricks on you; or a silly little
jinx of stealing things.” Davy went on,
shaking his finger at the careless scout.
“If all you fellows are done
eating, perhaps we’d better get a move on us,”
suggested the scoutmaster; of course Thad was really
only the assistant, for according to the regulations
governing all troops of Boy Scouts connected with
the parent organization, there had to be a grown-up
acting in the capacity of scoutmaster; though Thad
had passed an examination that entitled him to receive
his commission as assistant, from the headquarters
in New York City.
As this gentleman, a Dr. Philander
Hobbs, had been unable to get away with them on this
trip to Maine, he had relegated his authority to the
shoulders of Thad; a proceeding that was greatly relished
by the other five scouts, because they liked to feel
that they were depending on themselves, with no grown-up
along.
Accordingly there was a movement among
the campers. Tents had to come down, and be stowed
away; and all the material connected with the cooking
department made into as small a compass as possible.
All of them worked but Giraffe, who
was on his knees near by, doing something that Thad
could easily guess the nature of. Knowing the
stubborn qualities in the angular scout Thad felt sure
that none of them would know any peace until Giraffe
had finally managed to strike a clue, and effect the
end he had in view, of making an actual boni-fide
fire after the way known to the South Sea Islanders,
with his little bow, his sharp-pointed stick set in
a hole made in a block of wood, and his inflammable
tinder, backed by indomitable energy, and “get
there” spirit.
And for the sake of harmony in the
camp, Thad really wished Giraffe would hurry up, and
solve the knotty problem.
Inside of half an hour they were all
packed, and ready to make another start in the direction
of the Eagle chain of lakes to the north.