It must have been a long time after the noon hour when Step Hen did as
he had promised, called a halt in order that they might eat their lunch,
and take a rest.

As the cold was still with them, though the snow had thus far amounted
to but little, Step Hen insisted on starting a small fire, at which they
could sit, and be comfortable, while they devoured the food provided for
the midday meal.

"You make a fire as quick as the next one, Step Hen," admitted Thad,
really meaning what he said, and at the same time wishing to raise the
drooping spirits of his hunting mate, who was feeling very sore over the
loss of his game.

"Oh! I don't pretend to know much about starting a blaze in half a dozen
styles, the way Giraffe's got it down pat," observed the other, smiling
a little; "but if you pin me down to going at it the easiest way, with
matches, and dead pine cones, why I'm there every time. And say, it does
feel some handy, don't it, Thad?"

They sat there, and chatted for quite a long time after they had
consumed the last morsel of food. And during that resting spell Step Hen
picked up many a crumb of useful knowledge concerning the ways of the
woods. Thad did not know all that Allan Hollister had learned through
practical experience; but he had made the most of his opportunities when
belonging to that other troop of scouts; and never forgot what he
learned.

"Let's be agoin' on again," remarked Step Hen, finally, scrambling to
his feet, and picking up his little rifle with a new eagerness.

"Feel like another spell of it, eh?" asked the patrol leader, following
suit.

"That's what I do," replied the other. "Nothing like a rest, and a bite,
when you're pretty near played out. I'm feeling fine and dandy again,
and ready for several hours' hard tramping. But something just seems to
tell me we'll never again have such a chance to get a six-pronged buck
as that. And to think how it should a been just what the boys were
telling me to knock over. I wonder now----"

"What?" asked Thad, as his chum came to a sudden stop.

"P'raps you'll say I'm silly if I tell you; but anyhow, here goes, Thad.
It just struck me all of a sudden that we might go back to where we lost
our deer, and do a little trailing on our own account. Them three
fellers wouldn't bother trying to hide their tracks, and chances are
they've gone into camp to eat some of that venison by this time, if not
sooner."

Thad smiled; he could not help it, upon hearing Step Hen talk in this
strain; for only too plainly did he remember how white the other had
been, and how even his voice trembled when he spoke, while facing those
three poachers.

"And after we've managed to track them to their camp, what then?" he
demanded.

Step Hen looked wonderfully brave as he instantly replied:

"Why, we might catch 'em off their guard, and hold 'em up. That deer
belongs to _me_, and I'd just like to have it the worst kind,
especially that head, with the six-pronged antlers on it. But if you
thought that proposition a little too risky, Thad, why we might conclude
to wait around, keeping under cover, till it got plumb dark. Then we
could carry off as much of the buck as we could tote, including the
head; and them fellers not be any the wiser for it, till it was too late
to follow us! How's that?"

Thad nearly had his breath taken away by the boldness of Step Hen's
astonishing proposals. He looked at the other, and a smile spread
completely across his face. Then he puckered up his lips, and gave a
little whistle, that somehow caused Step Hen to turn a bit red in the
face.

"Whew!" ejaculated Thad, "I never before suspected what a fire-eater you
could be, Step Hen. Why, nothing fazes you, nowadays. I believe you'd be
ready to snap your fingers in the faces of a dozen of the worst rascals
that ever hid up here in the piney woods of Maine. But I'm afraid that's
too risky a job for me to back up, as the leader of the patrol. I feel
the burden of responsibility too much to allow it. What could I say to
your father and mother if there was no Step Hen to answer to the
roll-call, when we mustered out after this Maine hunt? So, on the whole,
Step Hen, much as I hate to disappoint you, I'm afraid I'll have to put
a damper on your scheme."

"Oh! all right, Thad," quickly remarked the other, with an evident vein
of relief in his voice; "I was only telling you what came into my head.
You see, that's the way with me; I'm always having these brilliant
plans, though my own good sense won't let me try to carry them out. So
we'll just continue our old hunt; and hope another buck may heave in
sight. But if one does, please let fly the same time I shoot, Thad;
because we hadn't ought to take any chances of his getting away. You
will, won't you, Thad?"

"Why, yes, I think I'm entitled to a shot by now, Step Hen," replied the
other; "seeing that I held back purposely, so as to let you have all the
glory of getting that first prize. But as you say, we need venison; and
the next time we'll shoot together so's to make sure."

"Good! Then let's be moving, Thad."

Since Step Hen was so set upon doing everything in their power to
retrieve the misfortune that had come upon them earlier in the day, by
means of which they had lost the first deer, Thad meant to try his level
best in order to run across another like prize.

Whenever he saw a piece of ground that looked more than ordinarily
promising he would head that way, regardless of distance or direction.
Little Thad cared as to whether they were able to return to camp that
night or not. He had spent too many nights in the open, not to feel
certain that he could manage to be at least fairly comfortable. And
then, too, Thad had the hunter's instinct pretty fully developed, and
thought little of fatigue when pursuing his favorite sport.

They kept moving in this way until the afternoon began to be pretty well
spent. Thad would not think of offering again to head toward the camp on
the shore of the lake, so long as Step Hen made no complaint. He could
not afford to be outdone by a tenderfoot, and he the patrol leader at
that.

Indeed, the gray of evening had commenced to spread around them when,
with no more warning than before, they came upon a second buck that had
possibly been lying down in the bushes.

The deer sprang away like lightning, and perhaps it was just as well
that Step Hen had asked his companion to shoot with him; for the
flitting buck made rather a difficult target to hit in that poor light.

So close together did the two lads fire that the reports blended, though
the louder bang of the smooth-bore partly drowned the sharper report of
the little repeating rifle.

Thad started to run forward, holding his gun in readiness for a second
discharge, if such were needed. Step Hen trailed along after him,
working desperately with his pump-gun; and like most excitable
greenhorns, trying every which way to work the simple mechanism but the
right way, in his eagerness to get the weapon in serviceable condition
again.

"Oh! _did_ we get him, Thad?" he cried; for possibly the smoke of
the double discharge had interfered with his vision, and he did not know
whether the deer had dropped, or sped unharmed out of sight, even before
the alert Thad could give him the contents of his second barrel.

"Looks like we'll have venison for supper to-night, anyway," laughed
Thad.

And then, Step Hen, looking more closely ahead, saw a slight movement on
the ground, which he realized must be the last expiring kick of their
quarry.

His spirits arose at once, and he gave a wild whoop of joy.

"Bully! bully!" he exclaimed, as he still ran forward after his chum;
"we did get him all right, didn't we, Thad? And I'd just like to see any
woods' thief try to hook _this_ deer away from us. Don't you let
'em do it, Thad, will you, even if we have to fight for it?"

"Don't worry," said Thad, as they came to a halt over the fallen buck;
"we're not going to have any trouble--not from that source, anyway."

If Step Hen had been less excited he might have noticed that the words
of his companion seemed to admit of their having trouble of another
kind; but just then the tenderfoot was too much wrapped up in other
things.

"Oh! that's too bad, Thad!" he remarked.

"What is?" asked the other; "both of us hit him, all right; for there's
the place your bullet went in; and these smaller holes show where my
buckshot struck."

"But look at his antlers, would you, Thad?" the other went on; "why,
this is only a two-year-old, I sure reckon, because he's got only two
prongs on his horns."

"Well so much the better for us, when we start to eat him," chuckled
Thad; "because the meat'll be just that much more tender, you see."

"Then let's get busy, and cut him up, Thad," Step Hen went on. "Seems to
me night's coming right along down on us; and the chances are we'll be
awful late getting back to camp."

What Thad really thought he did not take the trouble to mention; but no
doubt he had long before then made up his mind that they would never
make camp that evening, for he felt that Step Hen must be nearly all in.

He did start to work, however, and with the other to assist in various
ways, managed to get the deer cut up, after a fashion. The meat they
expected to carry with them, together with the head, which Step Hen
would not think of leaving behind, was made up into two packs, so that
each of them might carry a fair portion.

By that time it was pitch dark. Indeed, Step Hen had to kindle another
little fire of dry pine cones in order that the operation of getting the
meat secured might be brought to a finish.

"Wow! just look how dark it is!" exclaimed Step Hen, when finally Thad
announced that he was ready to go on, after getting his bearings, which
he did easily by sighting the North star, the clouds having very
conveniently disappeared, and all present danger of a heavy snowfall
vanishing with their going.

Step Hen was rather slow and clumsy about getting his load fastened, and
Thad had to assist him. He knew full well what was the matter. The other
was really dead tired, and could hardly put one foot before the other
without a great effort. He had been artificially kept up by the
excitement until the game was secured, and now the reaction was setting
in.

They had been slowly moving along for about ten minutes, when from a
little distance away there broke out a strange sound that, heard under
those peculiar conditions, struck Step Hen as more blood-curdling than
he had ever thought it before, when sitting safely in a camp beside a
cozy fire, and surrounded by comrades.

It was that same long-drawn howl of the Canada gray wolf; and as he
listened to a second answering cry from another quarter, somehow Step
Hen found himself shuddering.

CHAPTER XII.

BROUGHT TO BAY BY WOLVES.

"Ooh! how awfully queer them howls seem, Thad!" remarked Step Hen,
presently, just as the patrol leader expected he would; for he had a
pretty good idea as to what was just passing in the mind of the
tenderfoot.

"Well, they do sound different somehow, from what they did when we were
sitting around the cheery camp-fire, listening to stories told by the
guides," Thad admitted. "But then, wolves as a rule are cowardly brutes.
They may do a heap of howling, but they seldom show any bravery. Only
when in packs are they feared by hunters, away up in the frozen-up parts
of Canada, I'm told."

"But, say, don't you think there's a pack around here, right now?"
demanded Step Hen, apprehensively.

"What makes you ask that?" the other questioned.

"Why, in the first place, old Eli told us they never came away down here
unless in numbers; and then again, Thad, didn't you notice that when one
gave tongue over yonder to the right, a second answered him back from
the left; and by jinks! listen to that, would you, a third and a fourth,
as sure as you live! Say, they're all around us, Thad; they've got us
surrounded!"

"Let 'em surround, if it does 'em any good," laughed the other; and if
he felt the slightest bit of uneasiness himself on account of those
wolfish howls, Thad at least managed to conceal it; because he knew Step
Hen was feeling "creepy" enough as it was, without having his alarm
augmented by seeing his companion concerned.

"But don't you think they might be able to pull us down just by force of
numbers, Thad?" the other went on.

"Oh! there can't be any such bunch of the cowardly brutes around, as all
that, I guess, Step Hen. And don't forget, please, that we're armed with
weapons calculated to knock the spots out of any gray sneak that ever
tried to steal venison won by two husky hunters. Think how you have six
bullets in that little gun of yours; and each one ought to count for a
wolf, if it came to the worst."

"Oh! there's where I was a fool!" said Step Hen, in a disgusted tone.

"What's that?" demanded his chum, stopping short.

"Why, I never stuck a blessed cartridge in my pocket, you see. Thought
the six I had in the magazine of the gun would be good and plenty for
all the needs I'd run up against. Now I wish I had the whole hundred
along. Just my luck. I'm always losing things, and if it ain't anything
else, it must be chances. Think of a hundred dead wolves, and all killed
with this great little gun while I sat perched up in the crotch of a
nice tree! It makes me sick to think of it, that's what, Thad."

"Are you sure you did put six cartridges in the magazine before we
left?" asked the other.

"Well, that's what I meant to do, and I reckon I did, all right; though
Giraffe was joking me at the time, and he might have upset my
calculations," Step Hen admitted.

"Well, then, suppose you drop your bundle of meat, and take a look,"
advised Thad. "If it gets to warm quarters it's just as well that you
know how many wolves you can account for. Throw them out in one, two,
three order, now."

So Step Hen began working the mechanism of his little gun. Not being
excited, he was able to do this excellently. With the first cast a
cartridge flew out of the rejecting opening; but when he tried to
repeat, nothing happened. He looked at the gun blankly, and tried twice
more; but with the same result.

"No use," remarked Thad, grimly; "nothing doing, it seems. When you
_thought_ you put six cartridges in the magazine, you stopped at
three. And just such little mistakes have cost many a hunter his life
before now, let me tell you, Step Hen."

"Oh! mercy, what do you mean, Thad?" asked the other, alarmed.

"Why, suppose now, several wolves were rushing at you with open mouths;
and when you stood there, feeling able to take care of them all, your
gun missed fire, not because it went back on you, but through your silly
fault in not making sure it was fed to the limit when you started;
things would look kind of gloomy just then, wouldn't they?"

"I'll never go out without being dead sure my magazine is plumb full;
and a handful in my pocket besides, catch me again," said Step Hen,
solemnly.

"That's a good resolution to make, and see to it that you remember it.
But all the same, my boy, it isn't helping us any just now. You've got
one bullet, and I advise you to hang on to that to the bitter end. Let
me do most of the shooting, if it ever comes to it, which I hope it
won't; because I've got a belt full of all sorts of shells, from
buckshot to Number Sevens. Now, shall we go on again?"

"Sure," replied Step Hen, cheerfully.

But when he had managed to get his arms through the loops of his bundle,
and began to heave it up on his back, he groaned audibly, so that Thad
knew full well they would hardly make camp that night, at least not
without several rests by the way.

"How far d'ye think it is, Thad?" asked Step Hen a few minutes later, as
he dragged along behind the other.

"Well, I can't just tell," replied Thad. "It may be only three miles,
and then again perhaps it would tally up twice that. We're going to
strike the lake shore by keeping on as we are; but just how far away
from camp, gets me. Like as not we can sight their fire, and give the
boys a hail that will fetch a canoe for us."

"Whee! wish that blessed canoe was here right now," murmured poor Step
Hen.

"You're pretty near at the end of your rope, ain't you?" asked Thad.

"That's right, I acknowledge the corn, Thad. I never was so dead tired
in all my life. But I've still got the grit to keep along as far as I
c'n put one foot in front of the other."

"Good for you; we'll try it a little further, and see," Thad went on.

He was chuckling to himself even while he spoke; for he knew full well
that, although it pleased the tenderfoot to call it "grit," in truth it
was fear of those lurking, howling wolves that was driving Step Hen to
making these astonishing efforts. After all there is absolutely nothing
like fear to make a laggard run like a Marathon sprinter. It has even
effected cures in people supposed to be paralyzed, as Thad remembered
reading not a great while before.

They continued on for some time longer; but from the increasing puffing
and grunting that came from the region where Step Hen was staggering
along, it was evident that he was about ready to give up.

"Thad!" he gasped, presently.

"Yes, what is it, Step Hen?"

"Here's a tree," remarked the other; "I mean one that's got limbs near
the ground, and not like these other tall ghostly pines that I'd need a
lineman's spurs to shin up."

Thad stopped for a minute.

"Well, if you can't walk on any further, Step Hen, say so, and I'll get
up something that ought to keep the wolves away; but of course, if
you're ready to call quits, why I suppose we'll have to climb up here,
and squat like a couple of owls all night."

The prospect evidently did not please Step Hen any too well; besides, he
still retained a shred of his former pride. So he bristled up as he made
answer, saying:

"Why, of course I c'n go on for quite a distance yet, if you think
there's any use of it, Thad. Now, what was you agoin' to do, you said?"

"Under this pine tree, you see, that's been badly used in some storm,
there are a lot of branches lying. We can knock off a couple of the ones
that look like they might burn pretty well, and use 'em for torches.
Let's get busy and see if it'll work."

At any rate it gave Step Hen another chance to rest up, and get his
breath. He still clung to that heavy deer's head with its antlers. Step
Hen could be a most obstinate fellow when he chose; and having once made
up his mind, it was like trying to move the rock of Gibraltar to change
it.

After considerable effort, and the wasting of many matches, so as to get
the pine cones and needles started into a blaze, on account of the night
wind that kept blowing them out as fast as Step Hen lighted them, the
torches were finally made an accomplished fact.

"Wave it around some more, and the wind is going to keep it going,"
advised Thad; "besides, the swinging motion will warn the wolves to keep
away, if they don't want to get their old hides singed. Now, if you're
feeling fit, we'll make another stab at getting over the ground."

Still Thad knew they would not go far before something else would
happen; and he really expected that sooner or later they would have to
do battle with the hungry four-footed denizens of the pine woods that
had scented their fresh meat, and gave signs of meaning to possess some
of it, no matter at what cost.

So Thad bent his mind on figuring out what they had better do if it came
down to a halt. He knew that once they went into camp they could build
several fires, so as to virtually surround themselves with a circle of
flames, across which no wolf that ever lived would have the daring to
jump. And consequently Thad did not feel so deeply concerned about how
things would come out as his comrade did.

"Did you hear that and wasn't it a nasty snarl, though?" demanded Step
Hen after possibly five minutes more had passed.

"Yes, I heard it, and I suppose the beasts are closing in now," Thad
replied.

"Closing in! Oh! my gracious! Thad, we had ought to be finding a good
tree like that Jim dandy one I wanted to climb, when you said no. These
torches ain't agoin' to last much longer; and I don't believe the
critters care about 'em anyway. Hadn't we better change the programme,
Thad?"

"Well, one thing I object to," the other answered; "after going to all
this trouble to get venison, and losing our first deer to those woods'
pirates, I don't feel like letting these measly wolves share in this
second lot."

"Them's my sentiments exactly, Thad; but tell me how we're agoin' to
prevent 'em, won't you? If it comes right down to brass tacks we've just
got to think of saving our own lives, first of all, and let the precious
meat go. But then, if we found a tree, we might hang it up before
climbing among the branches ourselves. Then, while they were jumping,
and trying to snatch it down, we could be peppering the bunch like fun."

"Leave it to me, Step Hen; I've got a plan worth two of that; though we
might as well stop under this tree to try out; and if it comes to the
worst we can climb up. But I don't think it's going to be necessary.
Throw down your bundle, now, and get busy. We're going to have a fire,
two, three of 'em; and squatting in the middle of the string, we'll just
cook us some of this tender young buck, and snap our fingers at Mr.
Wolf. If he gets too brash, why, we'll give him a card with our
compliments. Hurry up, and get a fire going, while I stand guard over
you, Step Hen."

CHAPTER XIII.

THE FIRE CIRCLE.

"That's me, all right, Thad; I'll have a spark going the quickest ever,
if that old wind only holds up a bit. Here's aplenty of loose stuff, to
begin with, that I can kick together. Wait till I stick my torch in this
crotch of the tree. Just as well to have some light to work by," and as
he kept up this running fire of talk, Step Hen was busying himself right
swiftly.

For the moment he forgot all his aches and pains, and worked like a
Trojan; indeed, no defender of ancient Troy ever had more urgent reason
for getting things going than Step Hen thought he did just at that
minute.

He used his feet and hands to gather the loose pine needles in a heap;
and when he thought he had things fixed to suit him, the next business
that engaged his attention was getting the pile to take fire. After that
Step Hen said he would be "on Easy Street."

All this while the night wind had been moaning and whistling through the
tops of the tall pines, making a mournful kind of music, calculated to
add to the uneasiness caused by the savage howls of the hungry wolves
from the north. But Step Hen had learned a lesson while lighting his
torch, and knew that the wind came in gusts, with short intervals
between. By waiting a few seconds after it had started to blow at quite
a lively rate, he was able to find a lull; and making the most of his
opportunity, he hastily struck his match, and applied it to the dry
stuff he had made sure to keep underneath.

But after all he came very near spoiling it; for just at that very
second there was a loud howl, so close at hand that Step Hen was
impelled to look over his shoulder, under the impression that the wolf
pack was even then about to overwhelm him while he bent down, almost
defenseless, above the pile of dry stuff.

"It's all right; don't worry!" exclaimed Thad, who was standing guard,
with his faithful Marlin gripped tight in his hands; and any wolf that
attempted to try conclusions with that reliable little gun would surely
regret his temerity.

The flame managed to catch before the wind could come back again to blow
it out; and once the connection had been made, the draught only served
to make the fire burn the better.

"There, that's done; and now what?" asked Step Hen, whirling around to
pick up his own weapon, under the belief that he would feel easier in
his mind if in a position to defend himself.

"We've got to extend the fire belt, and make several more like the one
you've got going," replied Thad, laying his gun down, so that he might
busy himself. "Here are plenty of branches, and all sorts of good
burning stuff. If only Giraffe were with us now, wouldn't he be in his
glory, though?"

"Well," said Step Hen, slowly; "he might; and again, perhaps Giraffe
don't like wolves any better than I do. And he gets so rattled too,
whenever he's nervous. I try to take things as cool as anything. What's
the use getting excited, when it ain't agoin' to help a single bit. And
I know you'll say the same, eh, Thad?"

"You never spoke truer words, Step Hen," replied the scoutmaster,
gravely; and yet secretly he was shaking with laughter, because
everybody knew that Step Hen was the worst offender in that line the
patrol boasted; so that it seemed almost as "good as a circus," Thad
afterwards declared, to hear him talk in this way.

They worked diligently, and soon managed to not only extend the fire so
as to take in three more points, and thus completely surround the spot
where they had dumped the packs of venison; but to secure quite a supply
of fuel besides, with which to feed the flames from time to time.

"Now what?" again demanded Step Hen, when he saw that his companion
meant to call a halt upon these proceedings.

"Supper is the next thing on the programme," observed Thad. "I feel just
like enjoying some of that same venison. It will not only make us feel
stronger, but considerably lighten our loads when we take a notion to go
on again."

"Count me in on that deal; because, honest Injun now, I'm that empty my
stomach feels like it wanted to shake hands with my backbone. Say, this
must be a real hunter's feast, Thad. I never went through such an
experience as this before. And just listen to the nerve of them rascals,
ahowlin' themselves hoarse, just because we object to sharing our grub
pile with 'em. D'ye suppose, now, we'll have to knock over a few of the
pesky varmints, as old Eli calls 'em."

"I wouldn't be one bit surprised," replied Thad; and the other noticed
that he did not move in the least without making sure that his gun was
within reach; from which it was evident that Thad had no intention of
being caught unprepared, should the hungry wolves make a sudden dash.

Of course Step Hen was next to totally ignorant as to how to cook meat
without the frying-pan to which he had been accustomed. And he watched
just how Thad did it, closely imitating him.

Taking a stout and fairly long sliver of wood, a small piece of the meat
was secured to one end, after which the other point was thrust into the
ground in such a position that the meat came pretty near a place where
the embers burned red, and glowed invitingly. Presently the heat began
to make the meat sizzle, and then it slowly cooked, turning a delightful
brown color, and sending out odors that made the boys fairly shiver with
eagerness to start eating.

When one piece was considered done, it was quickly eaten by a hungry
hunter, and its place taken with a fresh supply.

So the good work went on. Both boys were ravenously hungry, and only
small bits could be cooked this way at a time, so that it was pretty
much a whole hour before they had fully satisfied their clamorous
appetites. And although the meal had been eaten under the strangest
conditions of any which he could remember, Step Hen was ready to declare
he had enjoyed it immensely.

"But they're gettin' madder and madder all the while, just because we
didn't send 'em an invite to our little feast!" declared Step Hen. "Just
listen to the critters yawp, would you, Thad? They're buttin' in closer
and closer, a foot at a time. And honest now, I reckon there must be all
the way from half a dozen to ten thousand of 'em around us."

"That's a pretty good and safe range," laughed the patrol leader; "and I
guess you've covered the ground, all right. There are surely half a
dozen of 'em, and how many more I wouldn't like to say, because I don't
know just how much noise one old wolf can kick up. But don't they sing
sweetly, though? Shall we be generous, and throw them out the balance of
the venison, to show them how we like their song?"

"Well, I should say, not any," returned Step Hen, after giving his
companion a quick glance, as if to see whether he really meant it, or
was only joking. "We had too much hard work getting our supply to throw
it to the dogs. Let the lazy curs run along, and find some for
themselves. Besides, it's too good to think of wasting it. I want the
rest of the fellers to taste _our_ venison. Mine went glimmering,
and I hope it half choked that villainous crowd. Anyway you vowed it was
a whole lot tougher than this haunch; and there's that comfort."

But it was evident that if the hungry animals around heard this decision
they refused to pay any attention to it; for instead of decreasing, the
howls actually became louder and more insistent, until finally Thad
picked up his gun.

"I begin to see that we're going to have a little target practice after
all, Step Hen," he remarked, quietly. "When things get so bad that you
can see the skulking beasts creeping about your camp, and even catch the
glitter of their yellow eyes, it's nearly time to begin to bowl a few of
them over, so as to inform the rest that we've got a dead line marked
around here."

"You don't say?" answered Step Hen, in an awed tone; "show me one, Thad,
please. I'd just like to say I'd seen a wolf, really and truly, for once
in my life, outside of a menagerie or a circus."

"All right, then," replied the other; "just follow the line of my
finger, and I give you my word that skulking thing in the shadows is a
real genuine, Canada wolf. I'm going to prove it to you in a minute or
two, by taking a crack at him."

"Oh! now there's two of 'em, Thad, crossing each other's trail. And see
there, if that ain't a third, and even a fourth. Why, I believe the
woods are full of 'em!"

"You're about right," replied the patrol leader, more seriously than
before, the alarmed Step Hen thought. "Here, let's throw a few blazing
brands around, to scare 'em off some, while we lift the bundles up among
the branches of this tree. Then, if anything should force us to take
refuge there, at any rate we wouldn't have to listen to the plaguey
things chewing at our grub."

This was accordingly done. When the burning bits of wood were hurled out
toward them, the wolves temporarily retreated; but Thad knew full well
they would soon crowd back, drawn by the scent of the fresh meat; and
besides, he did not like to take the chances of setting the woods afire;
just after he, and the balance of the Silver Fox Patrol, had accepted
this new test of their abilities in the line of doing a good act as fire
wardens.

The two packages of venison were easily hoisted into the tree, Step Hen
readily climbing up himself in order to lift them still higher; so that
by no possibility could a leaping wolf manage to get his teeth in either
bundle.

Step Hen came down again a little unwillingly, Thad saw. It must have
seemed good and safe up there, so far removed from the fangs of the
encircling wolves; but after the fires had burned completely out, it
would prove a pretty cold perch; and for one the young scoutmaster did
not yearn to try it, unless every other resort failed them.

"Now watch what happens!" remarked Thad, as the other joined him again,
gun in hand; "and remember, only shoot if you have to. I'll hold one
barrel in reserve all the time. After I shoot you'll see me get a new
shell in the chamber as quick as I can work it. Be ready, now; and watch
sharp!"

No need to tell Step Hen that. He was already keyed up to top-notch
condition by the excitement that caused his nerves to quiver, and his
breath to come in gasps. And yet, if any one had accused the boy of
being afraid, he would have at once indignantly denied the imputation.
Perhaps he was holding himself sternly in hand; Thad hoped as much; but
then some persons have a queer way of showing that they are cool and
collected. Step Hen was one, for instance; but if all of us could
realize just how we look to our neighbors, we might not feel quite so
proud.

Thad had his gun ready for quick work. He only waited until he could
glimpse one of those skulking, shadowy forms on the outside border of
the light cast by the fire circle. Then he glanced along the barrels of
his gun, though instinct enabled him to cover the target better than all
this aiming; after which his finger pressed the trigger.

The boom of the gun was instantly succeeded by a series of alarming
howls; and then Step Hen was heard shouting exultantly:

"You got him then, Thad! I saw him turn a back somersault. He's a dead
one, all right, I tell you, whoop!"

CHAPTER XIV.

STEP HEN HAS VISIONS OF A FUR COAT.

Thad was already hastily inserting a fresh shell in the left chamber of
his little shotgun. He felt fully satisfied that he had done just what
Step Hen so vociferously proclaimed, knocked over one of the skulking
wolves; but there were more of the same breed around, and presently they
would get over the temporary fright caused by the flash of fire,
together with the heavy crash, when possibly they might show themselves
bolder than ever.

And like a true Boy Scout, Thad Brewster believed in always being
prepared. He had really taken that for his motto long before he thought
of joining a troop of the scouts; so that much of what he agreed to do
when signing the muster roll, lay directly in a line with his own ideas
of what a wide-awake boy should be.

"They backed off after that hot reception, Thad," Step Hen went on. "Oh!
I hope I'll get a chance to pop over just one of the sneaky beasts. I'd
like to say I'd shot a real wolf. Think of me, Step Hen Bingham, who up
to a year ago had never gone off camping or hunting, with a bear to my
credit, a buck actually knocked over, even if it was stole away from me;
and now, as the crowning event of all, I want to get a savage wolf, a
real Canada wolf."

"Oh!" said Thad, laughingly; "I don't know that they're different from
any other kind they have out on the plains; though perhaps they may be a
little larger, and ready to attack a man quicker. But perhaps you'd
better take the next good chance then, Step Hen."

"May I, Thad? That's kind of you. Suppose you give me pointers, then,
and tell me just when to blaze away. I want to make a dead sure thing of
it."

"Of the wolf, you mean, I guess," Thad went on, keeping a bright lookout
while he talked. "Well, watch that place where I got my fellow, and I
think you'll soon see something moving."

"You must mean the rest will be wanting to make a supper off the critter
you killed; is that it, Thad? Are they such cannibals as all that?"
asked Step Hen.

"Always said to be," the patrol leader returned, and then quickly added.
"Keep on the lookout, and if you see anything moving, tell me. Above all
don't waste ammunition by firing recklessly. We're not trying to scare
'em off by noise; every shot ought to count for a wolf."

They lapsed into silence for some little time, during which both boys
used their eyes to the best advantage. Several times Step Hen's
eagerness caused him to imagine he had caught a glimpse of a moving
object; but upon calling the attention of his more experienced comrade
to the spot, in every instance Thad had pronounced it a false alarm.

But in the end there came a time when Thad himself saw something move,
and as he watched more closely he made positive that it was another wolf
creeping up in the direction of the spot where his first victim probably
lay.

"Are you all ready, Step Hen?" he asked, quietly.

"Just try me, that's all," came the whispered reply, as the other scout
clutched his rifle nervously, and strained his eyes to see what had
caught the attention of his chum.

"Then watch that spot where my game kicked the bucket; one of his mates
is right now coming to drag the body away, to give it a wolf burial. See
him, Step Hen?"

"Yes, yes, and be sure and tell me just when to let him have it, Thad,"
replied the other, beginning to cover the indistinct moving figure with
his ready gun.

"Now, hold on for a bit," Thad cautioned. "I'm going to give the fire
here a kick that will make it spring up. Then, when you can be sure
you're getting a bead on the slinker, give him Hail Columbia. Watch out,
now, old fellow. It's going to be your only chance to bag a genuine wolf
from the Canada bush."

Just as Thad had said, the fire burned briskly after he had used the toe
of his boot to give it new life; and sure enough, Step Hen could see the
outlines of a long, dim figure that seemed to be hugging the ground. He
could even catch the odd gleam of the wicked yellow eyes that were
doubtless watching their every movement.

With the sharp report of his rifle there was another howl, this time of
pain.

"Did I get him, Thad?" cried the marksman, eagerly.

"You hit him, that's certain, because I saw him flop over," replied the
other; "and that yelp meant sudden pain, as sure as it stood for
anything. But he managed to get off, though possibly he will fall within
twenty feet."

"Oh! that's too bad, because his chums'll chew him all up, and I'll
never have my nice wolf-skin to get a coat made out of for winter,"
exclaimed Step Hen; and then, as he was seized by a new thought, he went
on: "But Thad, suppose I took a torch and went out there, d'ye think I'd
be apt to find him lying on his back? I'd like the worst kind to get
hold of him before the rest of the bunch muster up courage enough to
come back."

"Well, since you haven't even a load in your gun, that would be too
risky a game for you to play, Step Hen, and just for an old wolf-skin at
that. Perhaps we've given 'em such a bad scare now that the rest of the
pack may skip out, and leave us in peace. Then in the morning you'd find
your chap, all right."

"Listen! there's something crashing through the bushes right back of us,
Thad!" exclaimed Step Hen, a minute later, though his companion knew it
before he spoke. "Sounds like an elephant might be coming down on us;
but they don't have such animals up here in the Maine woods, do they?
Just hear the racket he keeps making Thad; whatever do you suppose we're
up against now?"

Thad laughed.

"That's a two-legged elephant, then, Step Hen," he remarked. "Fact is,
we're going to have company, for that's a man pushing through the brush,
and making all the noise he can, so as to scare the wolves away, and at
the same time keep us from firing on him." Then raising his voice, Thad
called out: "Hello, there!"

"Thet you, Thad?" came an answering call.

"Hurrah! it's Old Eli!" exclaimed Step Hen, readily recognizing the
voice of the guide. "This way, Eli; we're having a healthy old time
knocking over some of your Canada wolves. Each got one so far, but I
reckon the rest of the pack must a lit out when they heard you coming. I
see you now, Eli; and mighty glad you dropped in on us. Where did you
spring from anyway; don't tell me we're as near the camp as that."

Eli came up, with a wide grin on his face.

"Oh! camp about mile and a half down lake," he remarked, as he gravely
shook hands with each hunter in turn. "We saw light of fire over point,
and think it might be you boys; so I paddled canoe across here. It ain't
jest five minits walk 'cross this strip ter the lake. So ye got sum o'
the critters, did ye?"

"Thad, can't we look up that one I shot now; I'd just hate to lose him,
you know?" begged Step Hen.

"Why, I suppose it would be safe for all of us to go out," returned the
patrol leader. "Here, pick up something that will burn, and come along."

They found Thad's victim without any trouble, but the second one was not
within range of the light from their torches. But poor anxious Step Hen
begged so piteously to be allowed to extend the search "just a little
further," that Thad did not have the heart to say no. And a minute
later, after they had gone forward twice as far as Thad had at first
intended, Step Hen gave a gurgling cry.

"Looky there, Thad, what's that thing lying over yonder? Seems to me
mighty like a dead one. Yes, sir, that's what it is, as sure as I'm Step
Hen Bingham. Oh! how terrible he looks, even when stretched out there,
and gone up the flue. _My_ wolf, too. What a fine coat he's got,
and as gray as they make 'em. Say, won't I just cut a swell when I wear
that out in a sleigh with Sue Baker; and every time she rubs the sleeve
she'll say: 'And just to think that _you_ shot this savage old wolf
all by yourself, Step Hen; oh! what a brave fellow you are!'"

It was a second dead wolf, sure enough. The little repeating rifle had,
as usual, given a good account of itself, and the stricken beast had
only been able to drag himself a little distance away, before giving up.

Both animals were dragged over to the fires, and then Eli set to work
taking off the skins with a rapidity that told of long experience along
the trapping line.

"No use aluggin' these critters over ter the canoe, and then ter camp,"
Eli had announced. "Ther two skins'll make a purty good coat, I guess
naow. An' so ye gut a pack o' prime venison to tote home as well, hev
ye? Thet's good. My mouth's jes' made up fur a steak; an' the boys'll
feel tickled ter death when they sees yer."

Step Hen was a little nervous at leaving the fire zone, especially since
Eli and Thad insisted on putting out every spark before departing,
according to the law of the State; but then he managed to carry one
torch, and with that to serve them, they took up their line of march.

It was not so very far to the edge of the lake. Thad laughed, and said
the joke was on him; because, when they halted he really believed they
were a couple of miles away from water. If he had known the shore was so
near by he would have managed to coax the tired Step Hen to trudge on
just a little further, so as to camp with the water covering one side,
and bringing that much security; not to speak of the chances for
signaling to the home camp by means of the code which he and Allan, as
Boy Scouts, understood.

But it was all right now, and Step Hen felt quite merry over the chance
of being taken comfortably to the camp by means of the canoe.

Eli did the paddling, and the two weary lads just snuggled down in the
boat, feeling that they had had a great day of it, all told. The
presence of the venison, as well as the wolf-skins, would be positive
proof as to the reliability of their astonishing story; should there be
any skeptic around. And then Thad had the wonderful mushroomed bullet
that had killed that six-pronged buck; so that as they narrated the
first adventure that had come their way, they could produce evidence to
back up the story.

Their coming was greeted by more or less enthusiasm, although the boys
had evidently been coached by Allan not to be too vociferous, as they
were in a country where timid game abounded, and it was poor policy to
frighten away the quarry they had come so far to secure.

Step Hen forgot all his weariness as he found himself being shaken by
the hand again and again, while he and Thad told the tale of their day's
outing. It was nice to play the hero part once in a while, and more than
ever did Step Hen feel that life had become more worth living than ever,
since he joined the Cranford troop of Boy Scouts. But for that he would
never have discovered what splendid things there were to be met with in
the great forests; and the spirit of the hunter and the fisherman, which
had lain dormant in his nature, might never have been awakened.

And while the hour was rather late, all of the boys insisted on tasting
a small piece of the deer meat brought in by the two successful Nimrods.

CHAPTER XV.

THE FOX FARMER.

"Say, this is the greatest venison I ever tasted!" declared Bumpus,
after he had disposed of his share, and sighed to think that the rules
of the game debarred him from having a second piece; because they had
had a bumper supper only a few hours before.

"Just dandy!" added Giraffe, who was in the same class as his fat
campmate, and would have been only too glad for an invitation to "cut,
and come again."

"Oh!" exclaimed Step Hen, suddenly, "I reckon we've got to congratulate
you, Giraffe."

"Me? Er, what d'ye mean, Step Hen?" replied the tall scout, at the same
time beginning to look a trifle confused.

"Why, you know you told us we'd be _surprised_ when we got back,"
the other went on to say, a little maliciously; "and I reckon you've
gone and done it at last; and now you're ready to show us just how easy
it works."

Bumpus could not refrain for the life of him from giving a sarcastic
chuckle, which of course added to the evident embarrassment of Giraffe;
who, however assumed a serious air upon making his reply.

"Well,--er--not exactly, Step Hen. I've got her figgered out all right,
in my mind, so that in the morning I c'n go ahead, and work out the
details. I calculate a short half hour ought to see me wind up in just a
blaze of glory. But just yet it's a toss-up who the ice-cream's going to
be on, Bumpus or me."

"Oh! I ain't worrying even a little mite," asserted the confident
Bumpus.

"Well, you wait and see!" declared Giraffe, defiantly. "You don't all
know what I've got up my sleeve. The feller that laughs last laughs
loudest, they say. And I give you all fair warning that's going to be
me."

Meanwhile Thad managed to get in close touch with Jim Hasty. When the
others were joking, and having a merry time, he was wondering how the
guide's little affair had been working out.

Many hours had passed since he had seen Jim, and he wondered whether the
latter could have had any further communication from Old Cale, or even
run across the father of his wife in the pine woods.

Jim was looking a little more serious than ever; but so far as Thad
could discover there was nothing about him to indicate that he had been
in violent collision with an enemy. And there were both his ears in
their proper places; which fact might be taken as positive proof that
the giant poacher had at least so far not attempted to carry out his
terrible threat.

Jim seemed to know what was passing through the boy's mind; for he
smiled faintly, and shook his head in the negative.

"Nothing new happened, then, Jim?" questioned the patrol leader.

"Naw. I hain't been far from camp the hull blessed day; an' consequently
never had no chanct tew run up against Pa Martin," replied the other.
"But I'm more sot than ever tew see him face tew face, afore I quits
this here region. It's jest _gut_ tew be done, else I wudn't hev
ther nerve tew face Little Lina agin. She made me promise; an' by
thunder! nawthin' hain't agoin' tew skeer me off. If he doan't hunt me
out, by ding! I'll take a turn at hit, an' find Cale Martin myself, ef
so be I gotter tramp all the way tew his shack, wich I knows on'y tew
well."

"Good for you, Jim!" said Thad, admiringly; "but I suppose you
understand what risk you're taking in trying that game? From all I've
heard about Cale Martin, he's surely a terror; and then the threat he
made about your ears would be enough to scare most men away."

Jim drew a long breath as he answered this.

"Lot's o' people doan't know Ole Cale like I does. He hain't so black
nor they jes' paints him. Them game wardens is afeerd o' him, and they
piles all kinds o' things on his shoulders thet he hain't no business to
kerry."

"Yes, I've heard before about giving a dog a bad name, and then he has
to bear the sins of the whole neighborhood," remarked Thad. "There is
never a sheep killed but that Dog Tray is the guilty one. And so you
think Cale isn't altogether so bad as we've heard?"

"He's a big man, and he's gut an' _orful_ temper; but it's them tew
critters he goes with thet's the wust cases. They jest draw him inter
slick games, Cale, he'd never think o' tryin', left by hisself. But we
heerd as haow he's struck a new thing, if so be he on'y knows enuff ter
keep it agoin', an' shakes them other fellers. An' if anybody kin make a
success o' fox raisin', I jest guess Cale is ther man, 'cause he knows
all erbout the slick little varmints from A ter Z."

"Fox raising?" exclaimed Thad, at once deeply interested. "Tell me about
that, Jim. Seems like it ought to be worth while listening to."

"Why," said Jim, apparently only too well pleased to say something in
favor of the big and reckless parent of his little wife; "yer see,
thar's a company as hes been formed away daown in Bosting, tew raise
foxes o' all kinds, jest tew git the pelts. I s'pose yew knows as haow
them skins air agittin' more valerable every blessed year. More people
tew wear furs, an' less animals tew give 'em. Why, thar was twelve
hundred dollars paid fur a black fox pelt jest last Spring; an' I seen
the check with my own eyes."

"Yes," Thad went on, deeply interested. "I've understood that tremendous
prices were being paid out for that scarce skin; but is Cale meaning to
try and raise black or silver foxes for the market? I was told by
several people that they considered the silver fox only a freak, and
that they would never breed true to species. How about that, Jim?"

"I've allers hed an ijee thet way myself," returned the short guide,
scratching his head in a reflective manner; "but Cale, he thinks the
other way; an' Cale, he sure knows more about foxes in a day than I wud
in a year. Wall, we done heard as haow he hed made a contrack with this
company fur a number o' years, tew act as manager o' ther farm. It's in
another part o' ther State; an' when Cale, he leaves here arter a leetle
while, he never 'spects tew come back again. Wouldn't be surprised naow
if he hed a few foxes over tew ther old shack as he means tew kerry away
with him when he quits up here."

"But do you suppose he'll stick to those two tough characters, and keep
them with him in his new job? Won' they queer his game with the company,
Jim?"

"Wall, I doan't know, of course, what his plans be, but Cale, he's a
great feller tew keep his word; an' if so be he's told this company as
he'll run things straight jest believe me they ain't agoin' tew be no
place for them two poachers around _his_ fox farm. He'd run 'em off
with his gun mighty quick. Yes, Cale keeps his word; an' thet's what
makes me a leetle bit shy 'bout bein' able tew convince him tew leave my
ears whar they belongs. But Lina, bless her, sez as haow he jest cain't
hold aout, when he hears what I gotter tell him; an' Lina, she orter
know."

Thad admired the man more than ever. Just because of his faith in Lina,
here was Jim ready to put his head in the lion's mouth, so to speak.
Thad suspected that he might be carrying some very important
intelligence to the bearded giant of the pine woods; but whatever it
was, Jim did not take the trouble to enlighten him; and Thad did not
really think he had any business to ask.

After that Jim seemed to lapse into silence, and seeing that he did not
appear anxious to continue the talk along lines that concerned his
personal matters, the scoutmaster turned to the others again.

The hour was now getting rather late, and while those who had remained
in camp during much of the day might not be unusually tired, Step Hen
gave signs of falling asleep by the fire. Several times his head gave a
lurch to one side, so that presently Giraffe caught him roughly by the
arm.

"See here, d'ye want to take a header square into the blaze, Step Hen?"
he demanded, as the other opened his eyes, and looked sleepily at him.
"I like fires as well as anybody, but excuse me from getting roasted in
one. Don't you think he ought to be sent to bed, Mr. Scoutmaster? He's
so logy right now, that the chances are ten to one he'll climb in, and
wrap the blanket around his head instead of his feet. Seems like you'll
have to appoint a dry-nurse to look after the poor baby, or else he may
freeze to death in the night."

But Step Hen did not wait for any permission to retire. He just crept
away, and vanished under the folds of the second tent, which he shared
with Thad and Davy Jones.

Indeed, the others were that sleepy they declared they would not be long
in following his example. Thad himself was the first to get up and
stretch.

"It's late, fellows, and we ought to be turning in, if we want to be
good for anything to-morrow. And remember, that if this sort of thing
keeps up, we're going to change the programme, and let every scout have
a share in keeping sentry duty, working in couples. It doesn't seem
exactly fair that when Eli and Jim have to work all day with the
paddles, or in any other way, they ought to spend half the night
standing guard. Hello! there's Eli right now, coming in on the trot, as
if he had some news for us. What's up, Eli?"

The old guide had been down to the shore of the lake to take a look at
the canoes; and he was plainly bringing some sort of news, if they could
judge from his hasty steps; and the look of concern on his dark face.

"Canoe comin' along daown yonder; mout be Cale's agoin' ter pay us a
visit," he remarked; and his words aroused the sleepy boys as thoroughly
as though they had been ducked with a bucket of ice-water.

They all hastened to step off toward the shore. Bumpus even picked up
his gun, possibly under the belief that there might be a speck of war on
the horizon. Jim looked a trifle uneasy, but there was a grimness in the
way he shut his jaws together that told of his set purpose to face the
music somehow or other, before leaving this country of the Eagle Lakes.

"There it comes!" announced Giraffe, in a half whisper, as he pointed to
the left.

They could soon all make out the dim, shadowy canoe that was stealing
along, some little distance from the shore, and evidently bent on
passing the camp.

"I kin jest make out two fellers in her," said Eli, who had sharp eyes.

"I reckon one of them must be Old Cale, then; he seems to be shadin' his
eyes with his hand, alookin' toward our fire, and us astandin' here,"
Giraffe went on to say, though no one could be really positive, because
the light was so poor.

The canoe passed by in this spectral fashion. There was no hail from
those who sat in the boat, one using the paddle with the usual dexterity
of a Maine guide; and of course none of the scouts thought of calling
out, knowing who and what the voyagers were.

"I suppose that was Old Cale in the bow?" remarked Thad, after the canoe
had faded away.

"An' he was alookin' fur me, I kinder guess," said Jim, mournfully; at
the same time, as if mechanically raising a hand to feel of his ears.

CHAPTER XVI.

A STARTLING AWAKENING.

It was about four o'clock on the following afternoon when the three
canoes containing the boys of the Silver Fox Patrol, accompanied by
their two guides, drew up once more on the lake shore, and preparations
for going into camp were hastily commenced, since night would soon be
upon them.

Jim had selected this site for their last camp on this lake. When they
left it, they intended going through the rest of the chain, and then
seeking the railroad, with the idea of starting homeward again.

And Thad wondered whether, in picking out this camp, Jim might not have
had an eye to his own affairs. Perhaps it was not many miles away from
the shack of Cale Martin, the man who had been logger, trapper, guide,
and was now about to turn his superior knowledge concerning foxes into a
profitable channel, and raise them for their valuable furs.

Thad hoped that for the sake of Jim's peace of mind he might carry out
his plan before they broke camp here. And secretly he was determined
that, should the guide decide to take a chance at finding Old Cale at
home, he would not be averse to accompanying Jim across country to the
place where Little Lina used to live, before she ran away with Jim.

Despite his positive conviction that he was really on the eve of
succeeding with his fire-making, by the aid of his little bow, and the
twirling stick, Giraffe had failed to accomplish what he expected that
morning. Why, he hardly ate any breakfast, so engrossed had he been in
his "fiddling" as Bumpus contemptuously called it, whenever he saw the
tall scout working that clumsy little bow. But as usual, some little
thing went wrong that spoiled the whole combination; and of course fire
did not reward the hard labor Giraffe put in.

He looked so bitterly disappointed that even Bumpus did not have the
heart to taunt him; though as a rule the fat boy could be depended on to
do his share of such.

But then, it had been arranged that Giraffe and Bumpus were to go out on
a hunt on the following day, all by themselves, and without even a guide
along. Giraffe had boasted so often now, that he felt himself fully
competent to look after himself when adrift in the woods, that Thad
thought it might be a good thing to give him the chance. And there was
Bumpus, eager to make use of his new gun; nothing would please him
better than to accompany the tall scout.

Of course neither Thad, nor any one else for that matter, ever suspected
that they would bag any game, unless it might be a few half-tame
partridges, that would sit on a limb, and wait to be knocked over.
Indeed, Thad was of the opinion that in the end the two bold Nimrods
might even get lost, and have to be searched for.

But then, they would unquestionably leave a plain trail that the guides
could pick up without great trouble; and the experience would be worth
much to both Giraffe and Bumpus. They were really getting too "scrappy"
in their dealings with each other; and a little spice, such as must
accompany losing themselves in the woods, and being dependent on each
other entirely, might draw them together, Thad thought, and make them
appreciate each other more.

As they sat around the blaze that night, after they had partaken of a
generous supper, Thad purposely led the conversation to the subject of
fires in the woods. Allan had told of some experiences he met with some
years back, and of course both guides were able to supplement this with
stirring yarns that thrilled the blood of the young listeners.

"And I reckon, now, Eli?" Thad went on, after the guide had finished
what he had to tell; "that you never saw the pine woods in better
condition for a fire than they are right now?"

"Thet air a fact," replied the other, emphatically. "Dry as tinder, an'
ef we doan't git sum snow mighty soon, I guess as haow ther'll be
thousands o' acres o' vallerable land burned over afore Thanksgivin'
time."

"Yeou must a seen sum lands thet hed be'n burned, on ther way up on ther
train," interjected Jim, breaking his long silence; "an' yeou kin
understan' jest how lonesum they 'pears like, with ther tall pines
astandin' thar like flagpoles, black, and withaout ary limb; er else
alayin' in windrows on ther ground. Allers makes me feel bad tew see
sech things."

"And the game deserts a burned tract, too," declared Allan.

"It sure dew," Jim went on, with a shake of the head. "Yew never seen a
more desolate region than sech a burned territory. Everybody moves aout
quick as they can; fact is, most on 'em hes gut ther houses burned, an'
doan't hev ter kerry much away with 'em. I hopes as haow it'll snow er
rain right soon, so's tew save miles an' miles o' woodland."

"And the fire wardens have their work cut out for them at this season of
the year, you can easily believe," observed Allan.

"Wonder now if we'll see a real genuine forest fire while we're up
here," remarked Giraffe, with considerable interest. "My! but she must
look great to see them pines aflamin' up like big torches. Now, you
needn't give me that look, Thad, because I haven't forgot my promise,
an' I ain't acarryin' a single match along with me day after day. But if
_somebody else_ sets fire to the woods, I have as good a right to
look as the next one, ain't I?"

"Of course you have, Giraffe," replied the scoutmaster, relieved,
because this overpowering passion on the part of the tall boy had given
him many anxious minutes since coming into Maine.

"Lots of these fires come after the loggers have done their work," Allan
volunteered. "You see, they leave a tremendous amount of stuff behind;
all the limbs and branches of the trees they have cut down, as they are
only after the main stem; so when this gets nice and dry, after a year
or so, and a fire starts, with a brisk wind to whip it, what follows is
more than I can describe. I saw one such fire, and we only escaped with
our lives by the quick wit of a logger along with the party."

"What did you do, Allan?" asked Bumpus, eagerly. "You know, I'm goin'
out with Giraffe to-morrow, and if we did meet up with a forest on fire,
I couldn't run like he can, with his long legs; so I'd like to know
another way to give the old fire the go-by. Please explain how you
cheated it. Why, Allan, it might save my life too, for all you know."

"Glad to hear that you're interested, Bumpus," answered the other
readily. "And I think every one of you ought to know about it. When
you're out hunting, try and keep the location of any stream you happen
to pass, in your mind. Then in case of being beset by fire, make your
way there, and get in, up to your neck. You're going to be safe there,
every time. If it gets hot, duck under, and cool off. I'll sure never
forget the time I had; but then I hope none of you will ever have to
hunt for a stream, or that you'll even see a forest fire when up here,
no matter how much Giraffe wants to look on one."

Giraffe had dropped out of the circle, and apparently some idea had just
flashed into his mind connected with his pursuit of that slippery
contract, whereby he expected sooner or later to make fire come, after
the fashion of the far away islanders of the Pacific.

No one paid much attention, for they were heartily sick of seeing him
sawing away with his little bow, wasting so much time, most of them
thought; though Thad for his part was secretly pleased to see that the
tall scout stuck at his apparently hopeless job; with a persistence that
must win out in the end.

Thad had been explaining just what the new system of standing sentry was
to be. Each of the scouts would have his turn, even Bumpus being called
on, though his partner was to be old Eli. There being eight of them,
their fixed posts would not run much over an hour and a half each; and
it was to be expected that the boys might receive more or less benefit
from having to assume some of the responsibility of the camp's security.

Bumpus had been yawning for some time; and presently, taking advantage
of a lull in the conversation the fat boy clumsily gained his feet, and
made a lunge for the nearest tent, in which he was supposed to sleep.

No one was really surprised to see Bumpus trip, and go floundering to
the earth, for he frequently got his legs twisted, and did that; but
when there was a shout of consternation, and the tall form of Giraffe
bounded erect they realized that Bumpus had actually fallen over his
chum, not noticing him, because his eyes were so heavy with sleep.

"Oh! Giraffe, excuse me, please!" he remarked, as he rolled over, and
sat up. "I give you my word I didn't know you were there. I was rubbing
my eyes, because they felt so hot and tired, lookin' into the fire so
long. Hope I didn't hurt you any?"

"Hurt me," grumbled Giraffe; "I wouldn't care for that so much, even if
you'd broken a rib or two in my side; but to think that you'd upset me
just when I was agoin' to make it burst out into a nice little flame!
Why, she was smokin' to beat the band when you knocked it all into a
cocked hat by bustin' my bow; an' now I'll have to sit up another hour
makin' a new one. It's always the way. I'm havin' the toughest luck ever
was, about that business; but I can hang on, like a bulldog to the seat
of your trousers when you're gettin' over the fence. I'm game, all
right. I'm agoin' to get that, if it takes a leg."

But his bow, he found, could be easily repaired, as it was only the cord
that had been broken. And half an hour later everybody in camp was sound
asleep, saving Thad and Allan, who had taken the first watch, so as to
sit there, and talk in whispers; for the patrol leader wanted to tell
his chum all about Jim's case, because he felt so great an admiration
for the short guide.

When their turn had expired, according to the little nickel watch Thad
carried, they woke up Eli, who, with Bumpus was to take the next spell;
in turn they were expected to arouse Step Hen and Davy Jones, to be
followed by Jim and Giraffe; and this would finish the night, as
daylight must arrive while the last named were on duty.

Thad was a good sleeper, although as a rule the slightest thing of an
unusual nature aroused him. He believed that the camp would be well
watched, and when he lay down did not allow himself to get to thinking
of anything to the contrary, for fear that if his brain once got to
working, he might lie awake for a long time.

He had a dim recollection of the two boys who occupied the tent with
him, Step Hen and Davy, creeping out, when Eli summoned them. Then came
an uncertain length of time, which Thad could never measure; for he was
sound asleep when it seemed to him some one was shouting something in
his dreams. He sat up, and bumped his head on some object that had
fallen out of place; but he was now fully awake, and felt a thrill when
he heard real shouts outside, in the voices of Step Hen and Davy Jones:

"Hey, everybody get busy here! The whole camp's on fire, and the wind
driving it into the woods like hot-cakes! Hurry up! Hurry up,
everybody!"

CHAPTER XVII.

FIGHTING THE FLAMES.

Out of the tent crawled Thad, utterly regardless of the fact that he was
not altogether warmly clad for a cold night. And what met his eyes when
he reached the open was enough to excite him still further.

The wind was blowing pretty stiffly, and the fire had already jumped
into the brush surrounding the camp. If given its head for even a short
time it seemed bound to get started in the dead pine needles; and once
it spread there, all the desperate efforts of a dozen fire-fighters
would be wasted.

Several figures could be seen, bounding here and there, and slashing at
the red flames with anything they could get hold of that would answer to
bring about a halt in their spread.

Of course these must be the late guardians of the sleeping camp, who
were now shouting so strenuously, and begging the rest of the campers to
come to their aid--Step Hen and Davy Jones; besides, there were the
guides, hard at work, having been aroused with the first cries; for they
still persisted in sleeping under a rude shelter they had made out of
branches and weeds.

Thad rushed into the fray, and began to do his very utmost to keep the
dreaded fire in check. He saw that the others were also crawling forth,
Bumpus, Giraffe and Allan, all occupants of the first tent. And
realizing the importance of concerted action, they lost not a second in
getting busy.

Bumpus, in particular, was a sight to behold, and had he been less busy
Thad felt that he must have doubled up with laughter to see him. He
persisted in donning a most stunning red-checked suit of pajamas; for
being so stout he did not suffer from the cold as much as some of the
others. And as his simple heart was wrapped up in the business that just
then engaged his full attention, Bumpus was prancing around, looking
more like a clown from the circus than anything Thad could think of. But
all the same the fat boy fought, tooth and nail, at the spreading fire.
He had on his shoes, as had the others, so that he could jump on the
creeping flames when all else failed; and using an extra piece of canvas
that sometimes had done duty as a tent floor, Bumpus sailed into the
fray like a hurricane.

Indeed, they were all as busy as beavers for a short time. Every scout
seemed to feel that it would be a lasting disgrace on the name of the
Silver Fox Patrol if that fire got away into the woods. They had assumed
the responsibilities of assistant fire wardens; and it would be a sorry
joke indeed if, instead of putting out a conflagration they themselves
were the cause of one that swept the whole adjacent territory.

"Give it thunder!" shouted Giraffe, as he threshed wildly at every head
of fire he could see near his boundary of action.

"Hit him again, boys!" shrilled Bumpus, as he continued to do his great
act of working with both hands and feet at the same time, all serving to
quench the threatening flames.

But Step Hen and Davy were strangely silent, though they worked as hard
as any one. They knew that they were to blame for all the trouble; for
they had slept on their post, and with this sad result.

Finally success came to the hard working scouts, and their allies, the
two guides. The fire was completely routed, bag and baggage, before it
managed to get a good foothold in the dry woods. And perspiring as
though it were the good old summer time, the boys hastened to get more
clothes on them, for fear of catching cold.

The fire was resurrected, and they sat down to have a powwow.

"Oh! you needn't all look at us that way," grunted Step Hen. "We're
guilty, all right. Knock us all you want to, because I just guess now we
deserve it. But we never meant to go to sleep there by the fire, did we,
Davy?"

"Well, I should say not," replied the other culprit, looking quite
dejected. "We kept atellin' each other that we mustn't sleep right
along; and then to think that after all we did drop off, and both
together."

"First thing I remember," said Step Hen, as if resolved, after pleading
guilty, to open up, and throw himself on the mercy of the court; "I
heard a queer crackling noise, and openin' my eyes, my stars! the whole
world seemed like it was afire. I gave Davy a punch in the side, and
then jumped for it. We thought at first we could get her under control;
then I saw it was no go, for the old fire kept extendin' all the while.
So I started to wake you all, and Davy, he joined in. After that Eli and
Jim joined us, and then the rest of you came. And believe me, fellers,
Davy and me'll never forget it. You did handsome by us, and we've been
saved from disgrace that would have sent us into an early grave, hey,
Davy?"

"Just so," grunted the other, who was licking several burns he had
received on his bare hands during the fierce little engagement just
ended, though he made no complaint, seeming to think he had gotten off
pretty easily, considering the serious offense of which he had been
guilty, that of sleeping on his post, and which might have cost him his
life in war times, had he been a soldier.

Thad noticed this fact, and quietly getting out some salve he carried
for just such occasions forced Davy to let him attend to his hurts,
though the other insisted that they "did not amount to much, anyway."

"How do you think it started?" Giraffe asked, and in so doing he really
voiced the thoughts of everybody.

"Huh! I reckon that's an easy one to answer," replied Step Hen,
promptly. "Anybody c'n see at just a single look that the wind must have
picked up a live coal from the fire, and carried it into a bunch of
stuff to leeward. After that it was fanned, till it spread wider and
wider. That was going on while Davy and me snoozed away like a pair of
sillies. No use talking, boys, I'm ashamed of myself; and let me tell
you, it'll be a long time before I ever go to sleep on duty again--not
if I have to keep jabbing a pin into my leg every minute or so, to make
me jump."

"Does that explanation go, Thad?" asked Bumpus, still breathing hard
after his recent violent exertions.

"Well, it looks that way, for the fire was actually to leeward of the
camp when I first saw it," answered the patrol leader; but there must
have been something in his manner rather than his speech that caught the
attention of Giraffe.

"But you ain't _quite_ satisfied, are you, Thad?" he remarked,
pointedly. "You just keep athinkin' that perhaps it _wasn't_ an
accident after all? Am I right, now?"

"Wow! what does that kind of talk stand for?" burst out Bumpus. "Are you
hinting that it was all a part of a dark scheme to burn us out of camp?"

"Wait till Eli and Jim come back," Thad went on. "You've noticed that
they're not with us right now. Fact is, they took the lantern, and went
off about the time we were finishing our dressing. But before they went,
Jim gave me to understand what they had some reason to suspect."

"The work of big Cale Martin and his crowd? Is that what you're aiming
to tell us, Thad?" demanded Giraffe.

"Here they come!" was all Thad said.

"Oh! my, I thought you meant the game poachers!" exclaimed Bumpus, who
had made a half movement in the direction of his gun, standing
conveniently near.

The two guides joined the circle around the fire. Eli held his hands out
to the blaze, as though they felt cold in that nipping night air. Jim
simply caught the inquiring eye of the scoutmaster, and immediately
nodded his head in the affirmative. And Thad knew from that they had
surely made some sort of important discovery.

"What is it, Jim?" he asked.

"They've been around here; we found ther tracks lots o' places," came
the reply.

"Do you mean Cale and Si and Ed?" asked the other.

"On'y Si and Ed," answered Jim. "Cale he wa'n't thar 'tall. We'd sized
up his big tracks ef he'd be'n. They was two men in thet canoe larst
night, ye seen; wall them must a be'n ther lot as fired the brush. I
guess as haow Cale, he muster gone back tew his shack by naow."

"But what on earth could they expect to get by burning us out?" demanded
Bumpus.

"Fust place they never oxpected tew burn ther camp," observed Jim; "ef
they hed, doan't yew believe they'd agone tew windward tew start thet
blaze? Wall, they hed a game wuth tew o' thet up ther sleeve."

"Tell us what it was, Jim," urged Thad, though he himself had already
jumped to a conclusion in the matter.

"I guess as haow they thort we'd hev tew make off a long distance away
frum the camp tew fight the fire; an' then they'd hev plenty o' time tew
clean her aout; but yeou see, we didn't get fur away 'tall, so they hed
all ther work fur nawthin'. But them tracks was as plain as anything,
wa'n't they, Eli?" Jim went on.

"They be," was the conclusive testimony of the older guide; and every
one of the scouts understood that Eli had set the seal of his approval
on all that Jim had said.

It was certainly very unpleasant to realize that they were objects of
desire on the part of even a pair of unscrupulous scamps, granting that
big Cale Martin had retired from the combination. The boys seemed to get
more indignant the longer they discussed the situation.

There was Bumpus, usually so mild and peaceful, fairly palpitating with
a desire to draw a bead upon those two unprincipled rascals.

"We don't stand for much nonsense from outsiders, do we fellers?" he
appealed to the other five. "Once before on this trip some bad men
thought to get fresh with the Silver Fox Patrol. You all know what
happened to Charley Barnes, the leader of that bunch of yeggs that broke
into the bank. Didn't we make the capture though, and astonish Sheriff
Green? And ain't we going to get ever so much money for recovering the
stolen stuff? Well, that's what's going to happen to those husky chaps
if they get too gay with us. They'd better go slow. If they can read,
they'll see we're marked 'dangerous, handle with care!'"

"Yes," said Giraffe, "we'll just have to get busy, and hand these
sillies over to the head game warden. They're trying to interfere with
our having the time of our lives up here in Maine; and we don't stand
for anything like that."

None of them felt like getting back to their blankets in a hurry, after
all that scare; so they just sat there around the fire, some of them
with the blankets thrown over their shoulders, and compared notes all
along the line; for what the guides had just told concerning the scheme
of the unprincipled poachers filled the scouts with both indignation and
anger.

And more than one of them resolved that when his time came to watch, he
would make sure to keep a loaded gun close to his hand, to be used to
give the prowlers the fright of their lives.

CHAPTER XVIII.

WHEN EVEN A COMPASS FAILED THEM.

"What would you do, Bumpus," said Step Hen, after a while, "if you
couldn't find a creek to wade in, with the fire all around you?"

"Well, d'ye know, I was just athinkin' about that same thing," replied
the fat scout, who had thrown a blanket around him, and not bothered
dressing; and as he sat there on a log he looked somewhat like a lazy
Indian.

"I hope you came to some conclusion," observed Giraffe; "because, if we
happen to run across a conflagration to-morrow, when we're out hunting,
it'll be some comfort to me to know, when I'm spinning along, that
you're snug and safe behind, and not being devoured by the flames."

"Well, the only thing I could think of," Bumpus went on, soberly;
"seeing that a feller can't sprout wings right away when he needs the
same; nor hatch up an aeroplane to carry him out of the danger zone--the
only thing for me to do would be to hunt around for a woodchuck's hole,
and push in, feet first."

There was a laugh at that remark, which seemed to surprise Bumpus, for
he looked with elevated eyebrows at each of the others in turn.

"You seem to think I'm joking," he remarked, as if offended by the
levity.

"Well," continued Giraffe, "in the first place you'd possibly find a
heap of trouble discovering a woodchuck's hole in these Maine woods,
especially when you were in a big hurry; and then again, fancy the kind
of woodchuck that had a hole of a size to accommodate _you_, Bumpus
Hawtree!"

The fat boy sighed.

"That's what I get all along the line," he declared. "There ain't no
place in all this world for a feller that's nearly as round as he is
tall. I tell you I'm goin' to find _some_ way of getting rid of all
this superabundance of flesh, if I have to walk it off by taking
tremendous tramps. Some people tell me it c'n be done by going hungry a
week or two at a time; but what's the use of living if you can't eat,
that's what? So I'm in a peck of trouble. Won't somebody tell me what to
do?"

Of course, with such an open invitation, they hastened to accomodate
him; and if poor Bumpus tried even a part of the numerous joking plans
offered for his consideration, he would soon have no need for either
food or energy, since they would, as he declared, be "putting his wooden
overcoat on him."

Finally, however, the boys began to slip back once more into the tents,
all but Giraffe, who was to finish the night with Jim; although there
was hardly another hour now before daylight.

"Just suits me, boys!" declared the tall scout, as he prepared to sit
out his turn as sentry; "you see, I can be thinking over that knotty
problem I've just _got_ to figure out before we leave this part of
the country. And I've an idea that I'm getting mighty warm on that
proposition now. Would sure had it dead to rights, only for clumsy
Bumpus tumbling over me."

But no one paid much attention to what Giraffe was saying; they had by
now grown so accustomed to hearing him always promising great things by
"to-morrow" that it "went in one ear, and came out of the other," Davy
Jones said.

When the morning came, the camp became a scene of activity. While some
of the party were busily engaged cooking a good breakfast--and it needed
a lot to satisfy the healthy appetites of six growing boys, not to
mention two husky guides,--others were examining the tracks that had
been found after the fire.

And it was the universal opinion that two prowlers had indeed started
the fire with the idea that the inmates of the camp, rushing out to
fight its spread, might get so far away that it would leave the way open
for the thieves to make a sweep of any valuables left unguarded in that
exciting hour.

Bumpus and Giraffe were making all their preparations looking to their
"sallying forth," as the latter termed it, "like Don Quixote and Sancho
Panza of old, determined to do wonderful things." Thad saw that they
felt as if they knew it all; and he realized that in such a case advice
was not desired, so he said nothing about what they ought to take. If
they forgot anything, they must do without, and next time think again.

Presently the two waved their hands merrily to their chums, and started
forth. Bumpus looked like a well-laden, led animal as he trotted along
at the heels of the tall scout, who was to do the piloting of the
expedition.

"Don't keep supper for us if we're late," airily called back Bumpus. "We
may get further away than we can manage in one day, and have to camp
alone, like Thad and Step Hen did. And if some of them old wolves pay us
a visit, they'll wish they hadn't. Giraffe is toting his old heavy
weight rifle; and here I am with my new double-barreled gun, and fifty
shells. Ketch me gettin' caught like Step Hen did, with a few charges
for my trusty weapon. Good-bye, fellers! See you later!"

"Good-bye, and good luck!" called out Davy Jones, waving his cap three
times to represent his idea as to the right kind of a send-off.

The hunters got along very well for several miles, though Giraffe was
forever forging protests from Bumpus.

"What d'ye take me for, Giraffe?" he would exclaim, as he caught up with
the waiting leader, and wiped the perspiration from his brow, despite
the fact that the day was pretty cold. "You know I ain't built on the
same lines as you; and in a case of this kind, the one that c'n go
faster just has to accommodate himself to the pace of the slow one.
You're the hare, and I'm like the poor old tortoise; but please remember
that the turtle came in winner after all in the race. Not always to the
swift, you know, does the race go. I may beat you out in the long run,
with the endurance test. If I've got anything at all, it's grit."

"Yes, you will," sneered Giraffe; but after the third stop he did
moderate his speed considerably; perhaps he was beginning to get a
little tired himself, and did not feel unwilling to draw in a peg or
two.

At noon they ate a cold lunch, for they had come upon certain tracks
that told Giraffe there had been an animal of some kind there--he wished
he knew how to tell what species it belonged to, and just how long ago
the tracks had been made.

"And mark me, Bumpus," he said impressively, "I'm going to learn all
those kind of things right away, as soon as I can take my mind off this
pesky fire puzzle. I c'n see how handy it is to be able to read signs
when you're off huntin'. Why, when we start to follerin' these here
tracks, after we've eaten our grub, how on earth do we know whether they
were made a week ago; or if some cow broke loose from a backwoods home
up here, and wandered this way. A nice pair of chumps we'd be, wouldn't
we, if we went and shot up a pet cow, and had to pay damages? I reckon
the boys'd never got over the joke."

"That's just what I was thinking myself, Giraffe," agreed the other, as
he sat down beside the tall scout on a fallen tree, and took out the
lunch from his haversack, for he had carried it all morning, and Giraffe
had let him, too; "if we're going in for this scouting business, we
ought to swallow the whole business. Now, as for learning things
connected with the woods, where could you find any fellers better
qualified to put us straight than we've got in Thad and Allan? What one
don't know, the other sure does. I'm bound to learn the game. Owning
this dandy gun has given me a new idea. I used to say 'oh! what's the
use of bothering, when you've got somebody else to do your thinking for
you?' But now I begin to see that you can't always depend on others.
Right here is a case in point."

As their minds ran about in the same channel the two boys managed to get
along splendidly. Their little differences of the past were, for the
time being at least, quite forgotten; and they seemed drawn toward each
other as two comrades should be.

But both began to complain because thus far neither of them had had
occasion to make use of their gun. If this was a game country, why was
it two such industrious hunters did not get a crack at something,
whether a deer, a moose, or even a fox--anything would have been welcome
as a change from the monotony.

Perhaps Giraffe would have been surprised if told that he and the
puffing Bumpus made quite too much noise to prevent any wary and timid
deer from staying within a quarter of a mile of them. And also that
often they were doing their hunting "down the wind," so that their scent
at such times was carried to the nostrils of the suspicious game long
before the hunters came in sight.

Finally they came across some partridges, and Bumpus managed to bag a
couple with two shots from his new gun. He was greatly elated by the
success attending his efforts, even though Giraffe did mention something
about the birds insisting on remaining on the branch of that tree so
long that they must either have been frozen there, or else wanted to
commit suicide.

"Well, they came to the right place, then," said Bumpus, sturdily, as he
crammed new shells in his gun; "I'm the feller to help every partridge
and deer pass over the divide, that feels like going. Bring on your
game; now we're going some!"

But as the afternoon began to wane they had a shot at nothing else,
though once Giraffe became excited, and declared he had caught a glimpse
of a deer making off in the distance.

"Now, ain't it a shame," he went on to say, "how that deer just knew we
were coming? Seems like somebody went ahead with a trumpet, and
announced that two hunters were on the trail. After that they all hike
out. But seems to me it's getting some cold right now, Bumpus. My
fingers begin to tingle."

"Told you to wear the old mitts Step Hen offered you, but you sneered at
the idea. I'm feeling pretty cold myself, considerin' that I'm on the
move all the time. Say, where are we anyhow, and how far from the camp?"

Giraffe looked blankly at Bumpus.

"Here's the compass, and we c'n see which way is north, all right. Then
east is off that way on the right, south around yonder, and west here.
But where in the dickens is that camp, south, north or east? Honest,
Bumpus, I don't know!"

"No more do I, Giraffe," replied the other. "And d'ye know, this makes
me think of that Injun that got lost, and was found, half starved, by
some white men; but he was too proud to admit his little shortcoming; so
when they asked him if he hadn't kinder managed to get twisted in his
bearings, he slaps his breast with his hand, take a pose like this, and
says he: 'Injun not lost; wigwam lost; Injun _here_!' And we're
like that Injun, Giraffe; oh! no, we're not lost one little bit, because
we know we're here. But I just can't amble on any longer. Suppose we
stop and camp. These partridges will taste prime. Yum! yum, can't get at
'em too soon to please me. Get busy, and light a fire, Giraffe; that's
your part of the contract always."

"I sure will, if you give me a few matches, Bumpus," replied the other,
wearily dropping his heavy rifle, that began to feel like a ton of lead.

"Matches! Why, you're the fire-maker; and I thought you'd take care of
that part of the business!" exclaimed Bumpus, looking a little alarmed.

"Why, what a silly you can be, Bumpus; don't you know I promised Thad
never to carry a single match around with me? And now, look what a fix
we're in, lost in the Maine woods, with night coming on, and gettin'
colder every minute; and not a single match to start a fire with. I see
our finish all right. When they find us some days from now, we'll be
just frozen stiff, that's what!"

The two tenderfeet looked at each other, but there was no smile on
either face now; for affairs had assumed too serious a phase to admit of
merriment.

CHAPTER XIX.

GIRAFFE TRIES FOR THE FOURTEENTH TIME.

"Whatever can we do, Giraffe?" asked Bumpus, presently, after he had
sighed several times, in a most forlorn way.

"Oh!" remarked the other, making out to be little concerned about the
matter, although his manner did not deceive the fat boy in the least,
for he knew Giraffe was worried greatly; "there are lots of things we
can do, all right; but you see the trouble is, Bumpus, they ain't agoin'
to help out much."

"We're in a tough hole, all right," grunted the other, disconsolately.

"Talk about Thad and Step Hen camping out;" Giraffe went on to say, "why
their troubles couldn't be mentioned in the same breath with ours, and
you know it. They had aplenty of matches along, and could get all the
blaze they wanted."

"And say, think of having the best part of a fine young buck to cook!"
burst out Bumpus, with another groan. "As for us, we've got the game all
right; but however can we get down to eating partridges that ain't ever
even been near a fire."

"Quit talkin' of eating, Bumpus; you fairly set me wild," declared the
tall boy, rubbing his empty stomach, as though its calls were growing
more insistent with a knowledge that they must pass unheeded now.

"Then you must be hungry?" suggested Bumpus.

"Hungry ain't no name for it," Giraffe replied. "That's always the way,
I've been told. When there ain't no water, a feller feels as if his
tongue was stickin' to the roof of his mouth. And Bumpus, bein' hungry
ain't the very worst of it, either!"

The fat boy sat up, and looked at his companion in misery as though
startled.

"What you mean, Giraffe, by slingin' that scare into me; I'd like to
know what's worse than starvin' to death in a single night?" he
demanded.

"Oh! shucks! don't you worry about that," the other went on, with a
sneer. "Not so much chance of our comin' to such an end in so short a
time. But there is real danger around us, Bumpus."

"Say, do you mean about them wolves?" exclaimed Bumpus, with a tremble
in his voice.

"That's just what I do mean," came the reply "When they tackled our
comrades, why they were bold as anything, even if the boys did have a
fire burning all the time. Think of how we're up against it, without a
single match to start a blaze."

"Then there's only one thing for us to do, Giraffe."

"Suppose you tell me what that is?" demanded the tall scout.

"Climb a tree," replied Bumpus, promptly.

Giraffe made an impatient gesture.

"Of course we could do that, as a last resort, Bumpus; but the chances
are, if we did, we'd freeze before morning!" he declared. "I've heard
old hunters say that of all the agony they ever endured, being kept in a
tree all night was the worst. Feel in your pockets again, Bumpus; try
everywhere, and see if you can only scare up _one_ single match. If
you did, we'd be mighty careful not to waste it, I tell you. This is a
case of 'my kingdom for a match!'"

So the fat scout commenced a systematic search, Every single pocket did
he feel in with trembling fingers, while his comrade watched his face
anxiously, knowing that it was likely to indicate the success or failure
of the search.

When he saw a sudden grin come upon that broad countenance Giraffe felt
like bursting out into a yell of joy.

"Got one, haven't you Bumpus?" he exclaimed, eagerly. "That was a bully
good idea of mine after all, you see, having you look again. Say, won't
we be careful of that one precious match, though? And won't we have the
fine dry stuff all ready to kindle, as soon as I strike it. You must let
me handle things, Bumpus, because, you know, I'm more used to--what's
the matter with you? Don't tell me it _ain't_ a match after all?
Oh! thunder!"

Bumpus had slowly drawn his hand out of his pocket, and held some object
up between his forefinger and his thumb. It was about the length of a
match, but had a sharpened point, instead of a blunt head.

"A--a miserable toothpick that I just dropped into my pocket when we ate
that dinner at the restaurant!" groaned the wretched Bumpus, staring
first at the offending object, and then turning a piteous face toward
his comrade.

Giraffe managed to rise to the occasion. Perhaps he remembered that Thad
had really committed the other into his charge; and that it was to him
the scoutmaster would look to give a good account of the expedition. And
then again, Bumpus was so shocked by the series of calamities which had
befallen them that he looked almost ready to collapse.

So Giraffe drew himself up, and assumed a confidence that he was far
from feeling.

"Don't take on so, Bumpus," he went on to say, almost cheerily. "It may
not be so very bad, after all. Don't let's forget that we're scouts; and
must keep a stiff upper lip whenever things turn out wrong. We'll just
do the best we can; and I reckon it'll all come out right in the end. It
nearly always does, you know."

At least his words and manner had some effect on the almost exhausted
fat boy, who brightened up more or less.

"Now, that's nice of you talking that way, Giraffe," he said. "You're
the right kind of a chum to have in time of trouble. But say, ain't it
gettin' cold though? Is that why you're slapping your arms around so?"

"Try it, and see how quick you feel warmer, Bumpus," replied the other,
with the patronizing air of one who is superior in knowledge, and
willing to impart all he knows; "you see, the violent action starts the
heart to beating nearly twice as fast as it does ordinarily; and that
pumps the blood harder, so it gets to the very end of your extremities.
That's what Thad says, anyhow; and it sure enough works."

So, for a minute or two both lads kept up a strenuous exercise, though
it was too much for poor Bumpus, who presently stopped.

"Feel better, don't you?" demanded Giraffe imperiously.

"A whole lot; but doin' that has one bad point, I find," said Bumpus.

"As how?" asked his companion.

"Why, it keeps on making you all the hungrier; exercise always has that
effect on me. Why, Giraffe, I feel like I could eat a whole ham right
now."

"Didn't I tell you to let up on that style of talk; you're just making
me groan inside every time you speak of eatin'. We ought to be tryin'
our level best to better our condition."

"But I don't know anything that would help us, Giraffe; so it's up to
you to get us out of this ugly hole. Perhaps we might use a shell from
my gun, and by taking out most of the powder, snap it off, and start a
fire going."

Strange to say, Giraffe did not seem to take to the idea, simple though
it was; and later on commended by Thad and Allan, when they heard about
the trouble. The fact was, Giraffe had suddenly remembered something.

"You leave it to me, and see if I don't pull out a trick worth while,"
he remarked mysteriously; and Bumpus saw him turn aside to get down on
his knees.

For some time the fat boy sat there, apparently lost in bitter
reflections. Now and then he would give a start, and look around him
hastily, after which he would heave a great sigh, or else groan
dismally. From this it might be assumed that Bumpus was allowing himself
to dwell upon many a glorious supper he had devoured in the company of
his Boy Scout chums; and just then he was enjoying things the best he
knew how, he would remember the desolation that confronted himself and
Giraffe.

Then he would pick up one of the two partridges that had fallen to his
new Marlin ten bore, look critically at it, feel the meat on the plump
breast; and then shake his head, as though the idea of having to turn
cannibal, and devour the game raw did not appeal at all to him.

On one occasion, when he aroused himself from this abstraction he became
conscious of a strange humming sound.

"What you doin' there, Giraffe?" he demanded, as the noise certainly
proceeded from the spot where his chum was down on his hands and knees.

"Why, you see," replied the other, slowly, "I fetched my little bow and
fire-makin' outfit along with me, thinkin' I might have a chance to try
a scheme I got in my head. I'm gettin' right into it now, because I want
to start business before it's real plumb dark!"

But far from reassuring the dejected Bumpus, these words only made him
grunt. Had he not watched Giraffe working away for dear life with that
miserable little outfit a dozen times, and always with the same
result--getting perilously near success, but always missing it by a
hair's breadth?

What chance did they have of securing the much desired fire, if all
depended on Giraffe succeeding in inducing that twirling stick to
generate enough heat to throw off a spark that would catch in the dry
tinder? None at all. It was only a hollow mockery. Some smart scouts
might be able to do the little trick; but up to now it had baffled the
skill of Giraffe. Why, even Thad had lost pretty much all hope of his
ever succeeding, Bumpus suspected; and believed that the only good thing
about the tall scout's labors was his persistence.

So, shaking his head again dolefully, Bumpus allowed himself to once
more figure out a bill of fare that he would like to commence on, if he
only had the good fortune to sit down at a table in a first-class
restaurant. It seemed to give him untold satisfaction just to imagine
the heaping platters that were being brought before him in rapid
succession. Why, in his vivid imagination he could almost get the
delicious odors of the various dishes that had long been favorites with
him; particularly the liver and bacon and fried onions. Oh! how
tantalizing to suddenly arouse himself with a start, to look around at
the rapidly darkening scene of those lonely pine woods, and hear,
instead of the waiter's cheery voice, only that continual grinding
sound, as the boy with the never-give-up nature kept sawing away with
his miserable little bow; and the poor stick kept whirling back and
forwards with a violent motion, in the socket that held one end.

In the estimation of Bumpus, that was coming down from the sublime to
the ridiculous. He had little confidence in all this labor of Giraffe;
though goodness knows, that if ever success would prove a boon to a
couple of stranded hunters caught in the darkness of a wintry night,
with not a match in their possession, it was then.

CHAPTER XX.

THE LONG VIGIL OF A SCOUT.

It really looked to Bumpus as though sooner or later they must come to
climbing a tree, no matter how cold they found it on such a perch. And
as it would presently be dark, since night was rapidly coming on, he
wondered whether he would not be showing good judgment in selecting the
proper kind of a tree, while there was enough light to see by.

But before he started to look around him, he thought it worth while to
ascertain how his companion was doing; although to tell the truth Bumpus
did not have the slightest hope of any good news.

"Ain't you gettin' anywhere yet, Giraffe?" he asked, as he rose
clumsily, and wearily to his feet; for his short legs felt very stiff
after resting so long.

The other gave a grunt as he replied:

"Oh! don't bother me with such silly questions, Bumpus. You make me
think of that story of Blue Beard, where the old feller's a waitin' for
his last wife to come down, and get her head taken off; and she keeps
callin' to her sister, who's in the lookout tower: 'Sister Ann, Sister
Ann, don't you see anything comin'?'"

"But I want to know before I--" began Bumpus, when the other interrupted
him.

"You _will_ know all right, if I get it. But you keep away from me,
Bumpus. Once before, you fell all over me, just when I was on the point
of grabbing a spark. If you know what's good for you, keep clear of me
now. I'm desperately in earnest, I tell you. So be warned, Bumpus!"

The fat scout realized that if he knew what was good for him he had
better give Giraffe a wide berth while he was strumming away with his
"old fiddle," as some of the boys sneeringly described the fire outfit
that continually refused to "fire" even a little bit.

"I'm going to look for a good tree," he said.

"All right, go, and climb up in it, good and hard," Giraffe answered
pettishly; "but unless you want to get lost, don't you dare go out of
sight of this place. Call if you lose sight of me, Bumpus, d'ye hear? I
don't want Thad to say I didn't keep an eye on you; but this is a
business that must be attended to."

All the while he was sawing away as if his very life depended upon
bringing the ordeal to a successful termination; and possibly Giraffe
thought it did.

So Bumpus began to look around him.

He realized that the tall pines were rather out of the question so far
as affording them a chance to climb up; and that he must find some tree
of a different type, with low branches.

It was not hard to find such a retreat in the shape of a thick hemlock,
with its glossy green foliage that had such a delightful scent. Bumpus
knew it well, because on numerous occasions the scouts had plucked
masses of similar "browse," to make the ground feel easier where they
slept.

If they had to climb a tree as a last resort, this hemlock would offer
all the advantages they wished. Why, Bumpus could even remember how Eli
had told of an adventure that had befallen him along somewhat similar
lines; and how in order not to fall from his perch in the crotch of a
tree, he tied himself there by means of some stout cord he happened to
have along.

Bumpus felt all through his pockets again, and was grievously
disappointed not to discover a hank of fishing cord.

"Seems like I'm just out of everything that a feller's apt to want when
he gets in a bad pickle like this," he grumbled. "Ketch me bein' in such
a hole again. Why, I'm goin' to make it the point of my life to always
carry a plenty of matches along; and a line that would be strong enough
to hold a feller, if I had to use it. How would Jim fished up his gun,
and shot them wolves, like he told us, if so be he didn't tear his shirt
into strips, an' made a rope, with a loop at the end, to slip over the
end of his rifle lyin' on the ground. Next time I get the chance I'm
goin' to fix a nice clothes line, and wrap it around me every time I go
out in the woods. Never know how handy such things might come in. Wonder
how Giraffe's gettin' along with his sawin'? But I don't dare say
another word, or he'll be so mad he might break his silly old bow on my
back."

He walked toward the spot where he could see the dim figure of the
industrious fire worshipper bending low over at his labor.

Again Bumpus sank down to the ground; although he was shivering with the
cold, he did not dare swing his arms around as before, lest it make him
remember how hungry he was.

Sitting there, he listened to the breeze sighing among the branches of
the pines; and to his excited mind it was actually laughing at the
predicament of the wretched chums.

Something else came stealing to his hearing, something that made Bumpus
suddenly sit up, hold his breath, and strain his senses trying to locate
the direction from which it seemed to spring, and at the same time guess
the nature of the sound.

"I wonder now, was that a wildcat growling?" he asked himself.

The thought was so disquieting, owing to the gathering gloom, that he
could not help reaching out his hand toward the heavy Marlin that he had
temporarily laid on the ground near by.

While the sound, whatever it may have been, was not repeated, so far as
Bumpus could tell, still he felt far from satisfied about it. What if
the sly old cat was at that very moment creeping up on them? For all
they knew, it might be close by just then, "inching" its way along, just
as he had watched a tame Tabby do at home, when trying to steal upon a
sparrow it wanted for its dinner.

Bumpus became quite nervous over the thought. He drew back the hammers
of his double-barrel, and began to look around him. All sorts of stories
that he had heard told from time to time about these bobtailed cats of
the pine woods, with their cousin, the lynx, that had tassels on its
ears, now floated before his mind. Naturally they did not tend to ease
the strain under which he was laboring; for where he had before only
imagined he could see one pair of yellow eyes staring at him from out
the gloom, he now began to see them everywhere.

Why, the woods must be full of the creatures, and they were going to set
upon the unfortunate scouts, to make a meal for that cold night. And
another thing gave Bumpus great uneasiness; there was no use of trying
to get away from this army of "yellow-eyes" by climbing that hemlock;
since cats were as much at home in any kind of tree as on the ground.

No wonder Bumpus shivered now, with something more than the cold air.
They were certainly up against it, good and hard; and if ever they saw
Thad and the rest of the scouts again, how happy they should be.

Why didn't Giraffe quit his fooling with that silly old bow, and take to
thinking up some scheme that was worth while? It seemed the height of
foolishness for him to be wasting all his time with that ridiculous
fire-making dodge, that never could be done anyway. Bumpus was almost
tempted to stumble forward, and pretend to fall over his kneeling
figure, just to upset things, and make Giraffe come to his proper
senses. He would, only he was a little afraid that the tall scout might
be so furious that he would do something violent; for he was getting
"awful touchy" on the subject of making a fire in that way.

"If I could only make dead sure of one of them yellow eyes, I'd like to
knock the beast over," Bumpus was muttering to himself; and then he
rubbed his eyes with his knuckles, as if trying to see better, after
which he said disconsolately: "It ain't no use, they just keep dancin'
all around me. P'raps there ain't any cats there at all. P'raps I'm just
imaginin' things, like my dad used to say I did, when they put me to bed
in the dark, tellin' me the angels was all around me, an' wouldn't let
anything hurt me; but pretty soon, when the skeeters got busy, I let out
a whoop, and told 'em the angels was bitin' me something awful. P'raps
if I shut my eyes I'd feel better."

But when he started to try this, Bumpus found that it would not work.
The agony of not being able to see created new fancies in his mind, much
more dreadful than those that had gone before.

And so the anxious scout crouched there, not far from his industrious
chum, gripping his gun tightly in both hands, and breathing stertorously
as he twisted his fat neck around from side to side. He was trying to
figure out a line of action to be followed in case the worst came to
pass; and be it said to his credit that Bumpus was resolved to die game,
as became a true scout.

At any rate, Giraffe could not keep up that silly business much longer.
Either he would just have to give over through complete exhaustion; or
else his "bally bow," as Bumpus liked to call it, would break, as it had
a faculty for doing when the cord became weakened from constant
friction.

Bumpus only wished that time would hurry along, for he wanted Giraffe to
forget about his fad, and turn his attention to a more sensible way of
getting fire. Now, there must be a way of snapping an emptied shell into
a little pile of tinder, and catching the spark in some manner.

He tried to figure out how it could be done; but Bumpus never was very
bright with regard to details, for they confused him; so that he was
soon floundering about like a fish out of water; or a boy who did not
know how to swim, when he gets beyond his depth.

Why, it was real dark, and he could just barely make out the crouching
figure of Giraffe; but that everlasting humming sound still kept up,
until Bumpus thought it would set him crazy.

Now Bumpus started on a new tack. He tried to imagine the delight of his
companion if only he could suddenly remember having thrust a little box
of safety matches into his haversack before starting out; but he knew it
was useless to look, for he had certainly done nothing of the sort.

Then, all of a sudden, Bumpus was given an electric shock, when Giraffe
let out a shrill whoop; for with his mind so filled by visions of armies
of wildcats all ready to pounce upon them by and by, Bumpus was in a
condition to be startled.

He scrambled to his knees, and half raised his gun to his shoulder,
under the full belief that the crisis so long dreaded was at last upon
them, and they would have to fight desperately for their very lives.

CHAPTER XXI.

THE LITTLE FIRE BOW DOES ITS WORK AT LAST.

"Oh! what is it, Giraffe?" exclaimed Bumpus, in a quavering voice.

"I _told_ you I c'd do it! On'y gimme time, and I'll figger the old
thing out, I said; _and I have_!" cried the exultant Giraffe.

"Why, it's burnin'!" gasped the other, staring at the tiny flame that
was playing hide-and-seek in the midst of the dry tinder that had so
long awaited its coming.

"Sure it is; anybody with one eye could see that!" Giraffe sent back,
about as happy a fellow as the sun ever shone on, because his long
endurance test had in the end met with such grand success. "Hey! what's
the matter, Bumpus? Get a move on, and collect some stuff to add to
this, before the thing goes out on me. Lively, boy, lively with you,
while I shield it with my hands!"

He hugged the little blaze with his body and hands while Bumpus,
dropping the now useless gun, eagerly gathered a lot of dry pine
needles, and made a pile of them close to his chum.

"Oh! glory! Bully for you, Giraffe! You're the scout who can stick to a
thing like a plaster. Don't it look good, though?" cried the shorter
lad; but the fire-maker would not let him loiter.

Presently there was no longer any dread of the fire burning out; and
both of the scouts could get busy collecting fuel. Dead branches were in
demand, and fortunately enough, there happened to be plenty of the same
close by, so that without much effort they were able to get quite a heap
near the fire.

"Now let's sit down, and warm up a bit," suggested Bumpus; although
truth to tell, he was at that moment perspiring from his recent
exertions.

"And if you want to talk about eating _now_, Bumpus, you're quite
welcome," the taller scout went on to say, with a grin; "because there's
something to it. We've got the birds, and we've got the fire to cook 'em
by. Who said I couldn't start a fire by sawin' at my fiddle till I burst
a blood vessel? Wasn't it Davy Jones? Well, you c'n just tell him for
me, next time you see him, Bumpus, that he was all wrong. Why, it's just
as easy as fallin' off a log; er, that is, after you know how."

"Shall we start in plucking the feathers off these birds, Giraffe?"

"Might as well, if we mean to eat 'em; and speakin' for my own feelings
I want to say that a partridge'd go mighty well about now. Yum! yum! get
busy with one, and I'll tackle the other."

Both boys knew how to do the job of plucking the birds, and soon had the
feathers flying.

Both of them were feeling a thousand per cent better than before; and
Bumpus even hummed as he worked. Giraffe's thoughts very naturally kept
along the line of his recent triumph. He had labored so long, and
against such a handicap, that he might well be excused for feeling proud
of his success.

"Good little bow!" he muttered; "you did the business, all right, didn't
you? The trouble was, I didn't just know how to handle you; but I've got
it down pat now, and I'll never forget again, never. Wonder what the
boys'll say when they hear about it? And Bumpus, it came in right pat,
didn't it?"

"I should say it did, Giraffe," replied the other, enthusiastically;
"when we didn't have a single match, night here, cold as the dickens,
wolves howling pretty soon, and no way of cooking these plump
partridges. Why, if you'd gone and arranged all the particulars, I don't
believe you could a had it hit us at a better time. It's just great,
that's what."

"And the cream is on you, Bumpus."

"Shucks! who cares for that? Why, a little while ago I'd given all the
spending money I expect to get as my share of the rewards for returnin'
those lost bank papers, for just one little penny box of matches. Why,
I'll be only too happy to treat the whole crowd six times over, after
this. There, my bird's done, Giraffe."

"Same here; and now how are we agoin' to cook 'em?" the other scout
remarked.

Bumpus looked at him rather blankly.

"That's so," he observed, "we ain't got a sign of a frying-pan, have
we?"

"But there must be a way of cooking 'em by keeping the birds close to
the fire. All old hunters cook their game that way. And don't you
remember, Bumpus, Thad and Step Hen took sticks, and stuck 'em in the
ground, with chunks of venison on the other end. Step said it was just
prime. Well, what's to hinder our trying that same old game?"

"But the partridges are too big and heavy; they won't ever cook
through?" objected the fat scout, doubtfully.

"All right; I guess now we can manage to slice the same in half,"
Giraffe continued, hopefully. "I've done the job for my folks at home,
more'n a few times, when they wanted to broil a Spring chicken for some
sick person. We'll have our game broiled, Bumpus, see?"

"Sure we will; and while you're about it, with that big-bladed knife of
yours, Giraffe, give mine a rip down the back, so I c'n split it open.
It's easy to see you know how. Thad and Allan ain't got so very much on
you, when it comes to doin' things."

By this artful flattery did Bumpus manage to get his bird divided. He
spread it out carefully, and then started a hunt for the long sticks, by
means of which the bird was to be held in a proper position before the
hot fire.

After considerable waste of energy, they finally managed, after a
fashion, to get the birds placed so that they received a fair portion of
the heat that came out of the fire. Several times the sticks either
broke, or else failed to hold properly, so that the game fell into the
ashes, to be hastily rescued, and wiped off before again being put over
the fire.

The minutes dragged, and to the hungry scouts it seemed as though the
two partridges had tantalized them long enough. They gave forth an odor
that was positively appetizing; and finally Giraffe just could not stand
it another minute.

"Say, they must be done by now," he remarked, eying his bird ravenously.

"They look pretty brown," remarked Bumpus, "though that may come from
the scorching they got each time they dipped in the red-hot ashes. But I
feel just like you do, Giraffe; and if you say the word, it's a go."

At that the tall scout started to savagely tear at one-half of his bird;
and not to be outdone the other boy copied his example. Perhaps at home
they would have complained long and loudly because the cook had sent
food to the table only half done; but then circumstances alter cases;
and sitting there by their lonely camp-fire under the pines and
hemlocks, those two boys munched away, and nodded toward each other in a
suggestive way, that told how much they were enjoying it.

What if the meat was far from being well cooked, did not those who knew
say that game should never be browned; and as for the gray ash that
still clung to the outside of each bird, why, the wood was sweet and
clean that it came from; and every fellow has to eat his peck of dirt
sometime or other, they understood.

And so they kept persistently at it until nothing but the bones remained
of the two partridges; and each boy was sighing because, like Alexander
of old, there were no more worlds to conquer.

"That was just prime!" declared Bumpus; "and to think that I shot the
dandy birds too; so you owe your fine supper to me, Giraffe."

"I do, eh?" chuckled the other. "How about the fire, tell me that? How'd
them same birds tasted raw? You wouldn't have liked 'em as much, I
reckon. So, you see, after all, Bumpus, honors are about even; you
supplied the game, and I fixed up the fire. Better call it a drawn
battle, and end it."

"All right, just as you say; but the only trouble I can see is they
wasn't near big enough to fit in with my capacity. There's a vacuum
still under my belt; even if I don't feel faint any longer."

"Oh! I guess we can hold out now till morning," said Giraffe. "Then
we'll take our bearings again, and make another start for the camp. And
p'raps some of them might just be out looking for us right now; and
seeing this bright fire, they'll head this way. So we'll act like we're
havin' the time of our lives; and don't you ever go and let on that we
felt scared even a little bit, hear now?"

Bumpus, having a little pride of his own, readily promised. Besides, now
that they had partaken of a very good supper, and had that bright and
cheery fire to keep them company during the remainder of the cold night,
things looked vastly different; so that it was hard to believe he had
ever shivered and groaned as he contemplated their forlorn condition.

They sat there, talking about various things, for quite a little time.
Once or twice Bumpus fancied he heard some sort of sound in the woods
that caused him to send a quick glance toward where he had laid his
"trusty Marlin" down; but then, as Giraffe did not seem to pay any
attention to the noise, he soon forgot it.

But there came a time when both of them plainly heard a cough.

Giraffe grinned, and nodded his head.

"The boys are comin' all right," he said, as if pleased; "just like I
said they'd be apt to do. Now, just sit where you are, Bumpus, and make
out to be as happy as a king. We'll make 'em believe we're quite at home
at this sort of thing; and the only thing we're sorry for is that we
can't offer 'em a nice hot bird apiece. Look pleasant, now."

Presently they caught what sounded like the low murmur of voices, and
they seemed to be approaching too. It did not occur to the two scouts
that the parties were coming from a direction opposite to the camp where
their chums had been left; partly because they had not the remotest idea
where that same camp lay.

Now they could hear the swishing of bushes, as though the newcomers were
not very particular about how they walked. Then it must be Step Hen or
Davy Jones who made all the noise, because they were greenhorns, and did
not know how to walk noiselessly.

"I c'n see 'em comin'," remarked Bumpus, who happened to be sitting in a
position that allowed of his using his eyes.

"Remember, now, what I told you; just be feelin' as fine as silk, as if
this camp business was an old story with us," and to further the
deception Giraffe started to stretch his arms, and yawn at a tremendous
rate.

Bumpus did not answer; and thinking this a little strange the tall scout
turned his eyes that way. He discovered that Bumpus was staring as
though his eyes would almost pop out of his head. That, of course, made
Giraffe twist his long neck half way around, so that he might share in
what had aroused his companion to such a state of excitement.

And Giraffe also experienced a decided thrill when he saw two men come
half staggering into camp, who from their looks he knew must be Si Kedge
and Ed Harkness, the rough and lawless game poachers and bullies of the
pine woods.

CHAPTER XXII.

"BE PREPARED!"

The two poachers were undoubtedly partly under the influence of liquor;
for the boys could see that they did not walk as straight as they should
have done. Besides, their eyes looked red, and there were other
evidences of drunkeness, familiar to Giraffe and Bumpus, who had often
seen drunken men.

This made the situation the more critical, because in this condition men
often do things that they might hesitate to attempt if not under the
influence of strong drink.

They halted not far from the fire, and looked at the two scouts sitting
there.

"On'y two boys arter all, Si," remarked the one they supposed was Ed
Harkness, as he swayed slightly to and fro, while coming to a halt. "I
guessed as haow yuh must a be'n mistook w'en yuh said it mout be ther
hull outfit. Les sit down, Si, an' make us tuh hum."

Fitting the action with his words he dropped on the ground, and held out
a pair of red and trembling hands to the fire. His companion still stood
there, glaring at the two boys, just as though they had done something
to offend him. Plainly Si Kedge was something of a pine wood's bully;
and he thought it good policy to cow Giraffe and Bumpus right at the
start, so as to take the spirit out of them.

Indeed, Bumpus looked so white and frightened that it encouraged the man
to follow up his half-conceived idea.

"Say, whaz yuh doin' here? Where's the rest o' the bunch? Know me? I'm
Si Kedge, an' I'm a bad man to rile; so don't get gay now. Got anythin'
to eat 'raound here?"

Bumpus cast a quick, apprehensive glance toward his companion. His one
prevailing idea just then was that they ought to get up, and skip out as
lively as they could, leaving their nice fire for the two rough woodmen
to enjoy. As far as he could see, neither of the men seemed to possess
any firearm; at least they certainly did not carry guns, as might be
expected.

But Bumpus saw something in the face of his chum that told him Giraffe
was not thinking of giving up that hard earned fire. He had worked too
long to get it, to desert the comfortable camp, just because two half
drunken fellows chanced to wander that way.

Bumpus saw more than that. Giraffe had his big old rifle across his
knees. He must have reached out his hand and secured it, while his chum
was still staring at the unpleasant couple who had invaded their camp.

That gave the fat boy an idea, following which he too reached for his
gun, though not making any show of it, for fear of arousing a storm.

"We've been hunting, and got twisted in our bearings; so we thought it
best to go into camp," Giraffe started to say, trying to keep his voice
from wabbling, as it seemed to be trying its best to do. "And as for
grub, we haven't got a single bite along with us."

"They lies, Si!" burst out the second man; "'case I kin see a heap o'
bones clost ter whar they is settin', like they'd be'n eatin' some
game."

"We have," replied Giraffe; "we knocked over a couple of birds, but they
wasn't half enough to satisfy us."

"Huh! got any licker?" went on Si, still eying the boys steadily with
that half threat in his bloodshot eyes, that Giraffe knew meant trouble,
sooner or later, so that he almost instinctively allowed his thumb to
draw back the hammer of his big bore rifle.

"We never use it; and on that account don't carry a drop along with us,"
he answered.

"I guess naow, ther foolin' yuh, Si!" broke in the fellow who was
sitting down. "And looky thar, d'ye see they gut guns? Them's w'at we
needs ther wust kind, sense Cale Martin took ours away, w'en he sez as
haow we're that drunk we'd git inter trouble with 'em. Bring me thet
double-barrel. Allers did say as haow I'd like tuh own a scattergun, tuh
use on pa'tridge. D'ye hear me?"

Bumpus looked to Giraffe. He was unable to grapple with the situation
himself; but perfectly willing to do whatever his chum directed. Had the
tall boy told him to step over, and present the poacher with his nice
new Marlin ten-bore, Bumpus no doubt would have done it without a
murmur.

"Get the hammers raised," was what Giraffe said instead.

"Gee! are you agoin' to fight?" muttered Bumpus; but obeying instantly.

The poacher who had made the demand made a move as though half tempted
to get up and enforce his words; but seemed to think better of it.

"I'll step over, an' tackle yuh arter I got my hands warm, see ef I
don't," he remarked.

Bumpus breathed again, for he had thought that the crisis was upon them.
He saw that Si Kedge had also stepped closer to the fire, and thrust out
his hands, as if not averse to taking some of the cold tingle out of
them by the application of warmth.

"What we goin' to do, Giraffe?" whispered Bumpus.

"Stand up for our rights, that's what," replied the other, in about the
same style of voice. "They ain't going to chase me out of this camp, not
if I know it."

"But they're ugly, and mean to give us trouble," urged the alarmed
Bumpus.

"You mean they think they are," returned Giraffe, grinding his teeth, as
if by that method he could infuse his soul with more of the fighting
spirit that was required to grapple with the situation. "When they start
to making a rough house here somebody's liable to get hurt. And as we
hold guns, and they ain't got any, you c'n easy see who it's apt to be."

"All right, Giraffe; tell me what to do, that's all; because you see,
I'm that rattled I just can't think for myself."

"Keep as cool as you can, Bumpus, and it'll all come out right. If we
can't handle a pair of fellers as unsteady as they are, it'll be some
queer."

"But if they keep right along comin' at us?" queried the other,
anxiously.

"Then shoot!" replied Giraffe, savagely, between his teeth.

"Right at 'em?" gasped the shorter scout.

"Oh! aim at their legs, like I'll do," returned Giraffe. "We'd hadn't
ought to do anything worse than that. But mark me, Bumpus, when they see
we mean business, they won't dare come far."

Giraffe was still very white, but his eyes shone with resolution. He had
made up his mind just how he ought to act under the circumstances; and
being exceedingly stubborn by nature it would require something little
short of an earthquake to make him change now.

Meanwhile the two men had been muttering between themselves on the other
side of the fire. What they were talking about the boys did not know;
but doubtless it must have had something to do with the nice guns which
they expected were so soon to fall into their possession; for neither of
them could imagine that these two city boys, as they deemed the scouts,
would dare defy them, once they ordered them to lay the guns on the
ground.

"Be ready!" whispered Giraffe again, and thus unconsciously repeating
the motto of the organization to which both of them belonged, for
preparedness is the cardinal virtue in every Boy Scout.

The two poachers had evidently managed to map out some scheme by means
of which they expected to overawe the lads, and secure everything they
chanced to have about them, which was worth taking.

Bumpus could see that they were about to get upon their feet, and this
must mean they intended to force conclusions. He shot one last look at
Giraffe, to imbibe some artificial courage, if such a thing were
possible; and he saw that while the thin face of his chum looked ghastly
white, it at the same time showed a pair of set jaws, and back of it
gleaming eyes that told of a resolute spirit. And somehow the very
realization that Giraffe could be brave gave the fat scout the
consolation he sought.

He had followed out the injunction of the other, and both hammers of his
Marlin ducking gun were drawn back, while his forefinger toyed with the
trigger of the right barrel.

Yes, the two men were about to start trouble, for already had the one
they knew to be Si Kedge gained his feet, as he seemed a little more
spry than his partner in wickedness.

Bumpus saw that he was starting to go around the fire in such a way that
it must be Giraffe who would have to look after him; while the second
scoundrel, Ed Harkness, fell to his lot.

He elevated his gun a little, so that he could throw it to his shoulder
in the wink of an eyelid, if necessary. Then he waited for the turn of
events.

"We're acomin' 'raound tuh see yuh, kids," called out Si Kedge, in a
thick and meant to be threatening tone; "an' see tuh it yuh don't give
us any trouble; er it'll be the wuss fur ye. Stand up, an' make us a
present o' them fine traps yer holdin'. It ain't right thet boys shud be
kerryin' guns, w'ile men goes without. Go on, Ed; what yuh standin' back
fur?"

Ed knew. He did not like the way that double-barreled gun was aiming in
his direction. The two boys had hastily climbed to their feet at the
proper instant; and both of them were now standing there, presenting
their guns, but not in the fashion Si had intended when he gave the
order, for they were "muzzle to the front."

"Just stand where you are, both of you!" said Giraffe, in a low but
threatening voice. "I've got a bead on you, Si Kedge, and if you want to
see how well I can shoot this big-bore gun, just take two more steps
forward. Bumpus, got that other coward covered, have you?"