The Boy Scouts Afoot in France; or, With the Red Cross Corps at the Marne

by Herbert Carter

  CHAPTER XII THE WANDERINGS OF BUMPUS

  Bumpus managed to find the spring all right, for he kept on the alert.After satisfying his thirst, and starting back, he must have lost hisbearings in some manner; perhaps on account of lying down on the side ofthe water that appealed most to him, and then making a mistake incommencing his return trip.

  He did not realize this until he had been following what seemed to bethe winding path for fully five minutes without coming to anything thatlooked familiar.

  Then Bumpus was overwhelmed with chagrin. He could already pictureGiraffe laughing at him if he raised his voice and called to the othersto let him know where the camp lay. So he grimly determined to keepstill, and find it for himself.

  “Sure, I can do that without much trouble,” he told himself in aconfident tone. “I know now where I made the mistake; and by turning tothe right sharply I’ll come in on them from the other side. If Giraffeasks me why I did that I’ll give him to understand I was only scoutingaround a bit to see what the ground looked like.”

  So with his mind temporarily relieved Bumpus once more commenced to pushon. He found it harder going, now that he had abandoned what he hadbelieved to be the trail to and from the spring. But Bumpus was verypersevering, as most stout fellows seem to be, once they get going. Helabored on until another ten minutes had slipped past. Still there wasno sign of the spot where he had left his three comrades.

  Again did he try to figure out where he had made a blunder. Why, thisthing was really getting to be a big joke, and Bumpus feared he wouldhave to face the music of Giraffe’s scorn after he did manage to findthe rest. For even then his confidence in ultimate success had not beenwholly chilled; it was only a matter of time, and figuring things out.

  He tried to determine if he could find the location of the road. This hemight easily have done had there been any travel over it just then; butunfortunately the guns were growling almost continuously, so that try ashe would he failed to discover any sound of moving vans or advancingbatteries going to the front, it might be Red Cross hospital ambulancesrapidly speeding toward Paris with their loads of grievously woundedpartisans.

  When a full half hour had slipped by, as near as Bumpus could gaugetime, he began to realize that after all he had actually lost himself, athing he had so loudly boasted could never happen again.

  Bumpus was thoroughly disgusted. He hated to lift his voice and try toattract the attention of his friends. It would make him feel like one ofthe helpless babes in the woods to cry for help, and wait there untilone of his chums came out to pilot him into camp.

  “Well,” he was saying to himself in a bitter vein, “of all the chumpsyou certainly take the cake, Bumpus Hawtree. Now if this were out thereamong the Rockies, or in one of the big Maine woods, there might be alittle excuse for your getting mixed in your bearings; but to think ofdoing it over here in a silly little French forest! After this I’dbetter get them to attach a horn to my neck, so I can blow a blastwhenever I step out of camp, and let them know where I’m at.”

  Although heartily ashamed at being compelled to do so, he even throttledhis chagrin enough to raise his voice and try to shout. Somehow or otherthe effort did not seem to be much of a success. His voice was husky, sothat he could not do himself justice; and then again those rival gunskept up such a constant booming sound that it muffled his cries to agreat extent.

  At any rate, after keeping this up for a stretch, Bumpus grewdisconsolate and determined not to bother any more.

  “I’ll just paddle around a while longer, hoping that something may turnup to give me a pointer,” he told himself, trying to appear careless asto results. “But if in the end I fail, why, me to curl up and put in therest of the night here. I guess it won’t rain on me; and once morningcomes I’ll find a road that’ll take me somewhere.”

  After that he pushed on again, trying a new tack, which seemed topromise better results. He could tell where the north lay easily enough;on account of all the firing that was going on; yes, and doubtless Pariswas in the opposite quarter, although he failed to discover signs in thesky to indicate this fact, such as may usually be found where there is abig electric-lighted city. The trouble with Bumpus was he could not tellfor the life of him whether his three chums might be found to the north,east, or west; and that made two chances to one that he was going wrong.

  He figured that much more than an hour must have elapsed since hebecame—he was going to say “bewildered,” but on second thoughtspronounced that disagreeable word, “lost.” For aught he knew his chumsmight be a mile or two away from him by that time. Bumpus was alsogetting pretty tired. His feet felt like clogs, since he was never anextra good walker.

  “Well, I’ve got to come to it, I guess,” he finally observed, as hewiped his streaming brow with his big red bandanna. “I’ll just push onabout five minutes longer, for it strikes me the woods seem lighterahead there. Now it would be a fine thing if after all I ran onto theroad.”

  Breaking his way through a jungle of creepers, he presently made adiscovery that started his heart to beating faster than its wont. Sureenough he had come upon a road. It did not seem to run from north tosouth, as that one had upon which they stood at the time they watchedthe fluctuations of the terrible battle. However, a road of any kindencouraged Bumpus.

  “I may find some sort of house on it,” he conjectured, sucking in freshhope; “where the folks would consent to take me in, give me a royalfeed, and even supply me with a cot for the night.”

  That delightful thought buoyed up his drooping spirits wonderfully, sothat he started along the road filled with high hopes. Ten minutesafterwards he made another pleasant discovery. There was a building toone side of the road. True, he failed to discover the first sign of anylight about it, but entering the lane leading amidst shrubs and trees,he approached the structure.

  His surprise increased as he drew closer. It was a very large building,and made of stone at that, as most houses in France seem to be, for woodis seldom ever used, being too expensive and not lasting enough.

  “Say, looks a heap like it might be some queer old rookery, with a towerup there in the centre,” Bumpus observed, as he stopped to stare again,having come close to the structure by this time. “I wonder if this issome sort of sanitarium like the one up there in Antwerp where motherstayed? Anyway, I guess it’s deserted, all right. Mebbe the militaryauthorities have ordered the folks to clear out, because it happens tointerfere with gun range. Now, I wonder had I better try to find a bedin here, or go on further?”

  His tired condition forced him to make a decision in favor of a stop.And once he had really decided, Bumpus lost no time in putting his planinto execution.

  There was no trouble about getting into the building, for the door stoodinvitingly open as though hospitality might be a leading featureconnected with the people who had formerly lived here.

  Bumpus had some matches with him, and once he found himself in a broadhall he struck one. This showed him that beyond lay a flight of stairsleading to the upper story. Still not a sign of anything moving. Bumpuswas more convinced than ever that he had the whole building to himself.

  “I’m too dead tired and sleepy now to prowl around looking for anygrub,” he observed, with a sigh; “and a bed is about the best thing Ican think of. When morning comes along, why, I’ll skirmish about, andsee if I can’t pick up a few bites; for sure there must be a kitchenconnected with such a big old establishment; and the cook may haveforgotten to clean it out entirely.”

  He dragged his heavy feet up the stone stairs. At the time he vaguelywondered why everything about him was so severe and cold and plain; andmade up his mind that living in such a sanitarium would be almost likebeing in prison. A tired boy, however, could hardly be expected tobother his head very much over such things. If only he could find somesort of bed, he would not be so very particular, for Bumpus believed hedid not “care whether school kept or not.”

  Once a
bove and he found that there was a long narrow, gloomy corridor,with numerous open doors on either side, all exactly alike. Othermatches were used to show him what lay inside the rooms.

  “Why!” he exclaimed, after he had investigated several of theseapartments, “I declare if they don’t look like regular prison cells. Buteach has got an iron cot in it, and I’m bound to keel over right soon ifI don’t find rest somewhere. So here goes.”

  There was really little choice when it came to selecting one of the“cells” for sleeping purposes. Bumpus tried the cot, and found thatwhile it was a bit hard he could easily accommodate himself to that.

  The last the tired boy remembered was chuckling over the thought ofGiraffe saying, “I knew he’d get lost.” Time passed away, and thensuddenly Bumpus sat up on the cot, awakened by a strange, thrilling andmost astonishing sound.