Boy Scouts: Tenderfoot Squad; or, Camping at Raccoon Lodge
Page 6
CHAPTER VI
A LITTLE WOODS MINSTREL
NOTHING seemed to escape the trained eyes of the scout-master, as hewalked on through the woods, across open glades, and sometimes crossingravines where little brooks gurgled along in a happy care-free fashion,after the habit of wandering streamlets in general.
One of the first things that came to his attention was the unusualnumber of wild bees that seemed to be working in the flowers that dottedsome of these open places. This interested Elmer very much; and as hestopped to watch them going in and out of the flowers, busily adding totheir stores of sweets or pollen, he was rubbing his chin reflectivelywhile saying to himself:
"It looks as if there might be a hive or so around this region, away upin some hollow tree. I'd like mighty well to spend a morning trying tolocate it, and if nothing hinders I'll get one of the boys to help metrack these little chaps to their hiding-place. I've done it before, andought to be able to again, if I haven't forgotten the trick that oldwoodsman showed me. And I should think Alec, perhaps Rufus in thebargain, would be pleased to see how the thing is done."
Then as he went on a little further he discovered small tracks, plainlyoutlined in the hardening mud alongside one of the streams that trickleddown toward the lower levels.
"Hello! good morning, Mr. Mink!" said Elmer, as he bent over to examinethe tracks which he easily guessed were made by the fur-bearing animalhe had mentioned. "Been out late for a stroll, haven't you? Visitingaround, perhaps, to see how your relatives are getting on; and dodgingin and out of all these holes along the bank. Well, all I can hope isthat no bad trapper covets your sleek coat, and lies in wait for younext winter with his sharp-edged steel trap."
Next he discovered another track quite different in design.
"Why, how do you do, Brother Fox?" Elmer chattered, amusing himself bythis manner of monologue, just as though the animal might be withinsound of his voice. "You were also abroad during the night, I see, andcarrying home some sort of game in the bargain, for the little foxes inthe den, judging from the scratches alongside your own tracks. Let's seeif I can find out what it was you managed to grab."
He followed the trail fully fifty yards before making any discovery.Then the observant boy triumphantly snatched something up from theground.
"A fine, fat young partridge, I wager, you caught, old lady," hechuckled, as he twirled the feather between forefinger and thumb, andthen stuck it in the band of his campaign hat. "Well, it was a sorrynight for the poor bird; but those little foxes just had to havesomething to devour ever so often. Now, I'd like to find out whetherthis was a red fox; one of those dandy blacks like we took out of thetrap when we were up at Uncle Caleb's woods cabin;[A] or a gray rascal.I'll see if I can settle that part of it and satisfy my curiosity."
It did not take long for a boy of such wide experience as Elmer to finda clue on which to build his theory. Inside of three minutes he came toa place where the returning four-footed hunter had to pass through closequarters, in pushing under some brush. Elmer knew just where to look,and was speedily laughing as he held up several hairs he had foundcaught on a thorn.
"As red as any fox that ever crept up on a sleeping partridge, andsnatched her from her nest in the thicket!" Elmer declared, also placingthe evidence away, for he would want to show it to the tenderfoot squad,when telling the simple story of the wonderful things he had comeacross while just taking a little ramble through the woods.
And so it went on. One thing followed another in endless procession. Thered-headed woodpecker tapping the rotten top of a tree; the bluejayhunting worms or seeds amidst the dead grass; the chipmunk that switchedaround to the other side of a stump and then with sharp eyes watched thetwo-legged intruder on its haunts curiously; the harmless garter-snakethat glided from under his foot, though _giving_ him a certain thrill ashe remembered the stories about these deadly rattlers--all these, andmany other things arrested the attention of the boy who long ago hadbecome possessed of the magical key that unlocks the storehouse ofknowledge in Nature's own kingdom.
And yet Elmer did not forget to always pay attention to the course hewas taking. He placed numerous landmarks down in his memory, so that hewould know them again later on. Now it might be an odd freak in the wayof a bent-over tree, that had the appearance of a drawn bow, with someunseen giant of the woods standing back of it, drawing the cord taut;then again a cluster of white birches would be impressed on his mind, tobe readily recognized again in case the necessity arose.
All this time he was heading in a direct line toward that region wherethe blue spiral of smoke had been noticed in the still morning air.Elmer, too, fancied, when an hour had passed, that he must by now bedrawing well along toward the origin of the smoke column.
Possibly he may have questioned whether he was exactly wise in thinkingof invading the precincts of the camp, that might prove to be the homeof the man who possessed the evil reputation.
"But my motives are all right," Elmer told himself, when this arose toannoy him; "and I mean no harm to Jem or his people, if so be he _has_any family, which somehow no one ever bothered to tell me, even if theyknew. I guess Jem's been something of a mystery to the people up here.He seems to have no friends, and it may be nobody ever did penetrate tohis camp. Well, then, I'll be the pioneer in the game. I'm not afraid ofJem, for all his black looks. I'd just like to get to _know_ him, andfind out if he's as tough as they say."
And accordingly Elmer, instead of taking warning from his fears andturning back, continued resolutely along the course he had marked outfor himself. He would beard the lion in its den, and try to convincethis same poacher Jem that he had nothing to fear from a party of boysout on a holiday. Perhaps Elmer may have also had some little scheme inmind whereby they could do more or less good by utilizing some of thosesuperabundant stores which George had cleverly advised Rufus to lay in,under the possibility of their being storm-bound up in the woods, with agreat need for much provisions. A little present of excellent tea mightquite win the heart of Jem's wife, provided he had one; and Elmer hadeven known of a case where the fragrant odor of coffee had entirelydisarmed a woods bully, who had been half inclined to clean out the campprevious to his inhaling that delicious perfume.
Now and then the boy would pause and commence sniffing the air. He knewthat he had been walking directly up the wind for quite a while now, andhence more than half expected that he might catch the whiff of hard-woodsmoke, telling of the presence of a fire not far distant, and deadahead.
It was when Elmer was standing still and looking about him that hesuddenly heard a sound that sent a peculiar thrill through his wholeperson. There was nothing so strange about the sound in itself, only theoddity of hearing it under such peculiar conditions.
"Why, upon my soul, I do believe that's a violin being tuned up!" hewhispered, straining his ears still more while speaking. "Yes, it is,for I can hear the plain chords now. Perhaps some fiddler who plays atcountry barn dances is passing through the woods, and has stopped overnight at Jem's shack. Why, he seems to have a knack for strikingwonderfully fine chords, it seems to me. I'll just push on and see whatit means."
This he accordingly did, and as he began to catch the sound of musicmore plainly as he kept advancing, Elmer found his curiosity rising tofever heat. Now the notes of the weird music came floating to him on thesoft air, more and more distinctly. It seemed to the boy as though theviolin fairly sobbed with the spirit of the one whose fingers trailedthe bow across those taut strings.
"It's wonderful, that's what!" Elmer was telling himself for the tenthtime as he kept on walking, and straining his hearing more and more."Why, I've heard some pretty fine players, but never anything like that!Whoever can it be! I'd wager a heap that the gift of inherited genius isback of that playing. I can see that he isn't an educated violinist atall; but the notes are meant to express the language of the soul within.Oh, I'm glad now I decided to start out; because I wouldn't have missedthis for anything!"
He knew that he wa
s by now close to the spot, for the sounds came verydistinctly. As he continued to advance, Elmer kept watching, wonderingwhat manner of person he was going to see. Could some professionalviolinist have taken a notion to spend his summer up here amidst thesolitudes, communing with Nature, so as to secure new inspiration forhis work? It would not be improbable, though there was that about theplaying to suggest an utter lack of training.
Now only a screen of bushes seemed to intervene. Once he had crept tothe further edge of these and Elmer would be able to see the one whohandled that bow so eloquently.
Three minutes later and he found himself looking eagerly out of hisleafy screen, to receive a fresh shock. Instead of a man with the looksof a professor, or even a lady performer, he discovered that the partyresponsible for those sweet chords and sad strains that pierced hisheart, was only a flaxen-haired boy not over ten years of age!
He sat there with his slender legs coiled up on a stump, and drew thewonderful notes from his fiddle without any apparent effort, just asthough the music was in him, and had to find an outlet somehow. He wasbarefooted, and dressed shabbily. Yet, despite these evidences ofpoverty, Elmer could note what seemed to be a distinguished air aboutthe lad that fairly stunned him. He thought at once of Mark Twain's "ThePrince and the Pauper." Was this a real prince masquerading in dingyapparel?
He lay there and drank in the wonderful harmony for a full quarter of anhour, hardly daring to move lest his actions frighten the little chap,and cause that flood of music to cease. All the while Elmer was tryingto figure out what it could mean. Was this boy Jem Shock's child; and,if so, how in the wide world could the child have come into such anamazing musical inheritance? Who was his mother, and had she sprung fromsome genius known to the world of melody?
"No matter what the answer is," Elmer told himself, "that child hasgenius deeply planted in his soul; and it will be a burning shame if henever has a chance to be educated along the right channel. I'm bound tobring this up before some of the good people at home, and see what canbe done. Oh! if only they could hear him as I am doing right now, itwould be easy to collect a sum of money to start him on the road tobecoming the most famous of American violinists. I never heard suchwonderful music in all my life. He mustn't get away from me now."
Elmer said this last because he saw that the boy was apparently about tocease playing. He had tucked his violin away in a much-soiled bag ofonce green baize, and was climbing down from the stump, as though todepart from the theatre he apparently liked above all other places forhis daily concert.
So Elmer stepped forth and swiftly approached. The boy did not hear hisfootsteps at first, for Elmer knew how to tread softly; but presently helooked around and for a moment the scout leader feared he meant to dartaway.
FOOTNOTE:
[Footnote A: See "The Hickory Ridge Boy Scouts Storm-Bound."]