Boy Scouts in the Maine Woods; Or, The New Test for the Silver Fox Patrol

by Herbert Carter

  CHAPTER XX.

  THE LONG VIGIL OF A SCOUT.

  It really looked to Bumpus as though sooner or later they must come toclimbing a tree, no matter how cold they found it on such a perch. Andas it would presently be dark, since night was rapidly coming on, hewondered whether he would not be showing good judgment in selecting theproper 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 toascertain how his companion was doing; although to tell the truth Bumpusdid not have the slightest hope of any good news.

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

  The other gave a grunt as he replied:

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

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

  "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 pointof grabbing a spark. If you know what's good for you, keep clear of menow. 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 hadbetter give Giraffe a wide berth while he was strumming away with his"old fiddle," as some of the boys sneeringly described the fire outfitthat 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 answeredpettishly; "but unless you want to get lost, don't you dare go out ofsight of this place. Call if you lose sight of me, Bumpus, d'ye hear? Idon't want Thad to say I didn't keep an eye on you; but this is abusiness that must be attended to."

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

  So Bumpus began to look around him.

  He realized that the tall pines were rather out of the question so faras affording them a chance to climb up; and that he must find some treeof 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. Bumpusknew it well, because on numerous occasions the scouts had pluckedmasses of similar "browse," to make the ground feel easier where theyslept.

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

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

  "Seems like I'm just out of everything that a feller's apt to want whenhe gets in a bad pickle like this," he grumbled. "Ketch me bein' in sucha hole again. Why, I'm goin' to make it the point of my life to alwayscarry a plenty of matches along; and a line that would be strong enoughto 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 shirtinto strips, an' made a rope, with a loop at the end, to slip over theend of his rifle lyin' on the ground. Next time I get the chance I'mgoin' to fix a nice clothes line, and wrap it around me every time I goout in the woods. Never know how handy such things might come in. Wonderhow Giraffe's gettin' along with his sawin'? But I don't dare sayanother word, or he'll be so mad he might break his silly old bow on myback."

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

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

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

  Something else came stealing to his hearing, something that made Bumpussuddenly sit up, hold his breath, and strain his senses trying to locatethe direction from which it seemed to spring, and at the same time guessthe 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 hecould not help reaching out his hand toward the heavy Marlin that he hadtemporarily laid on the ground near by.

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

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

  Why, the woods must be full of the creatures, and they were going to setupon the unfortunate scouts, to make a meal for that cold night. Andanother thing gave Bumpus great uneasiness; there was no use of tryingto 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 sawThad 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 tothinking up some scheme that was worth while? It seemed the height offoolishness for him to be wasting all his time with that ridiculousfire-making dodge, that never could be done anyway. Bumpus was almosttempted to stumble forward, and pretend to fall over his kneelingfigure, just to upset things, and make Giraffe come to his propersenses. He would, only he was a little afraid that the tall scout mightbe 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 toknock the beast over," Bumpus was muttering to himself; and then herubbed his eyes with his knuckles, as if trying to see better, afterwhich 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 justimaginin' things, like my dad used to say I did, when they put me to bedin the dark, tellin' me the angels was all around me, an' wouldn't letanything hurt me; but pretty soon, when the skeeters got busy, I let outa whoop, and told 'em the angels was bitin' me something awful. P'rapsif 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, muchmore dreadful than those that had gone before.

  And so the anxious scout crouched there, not far from his industriouschum, gripping his gun tightly in both hands, and breathing stertorouslyas he twisted his fat neck around from side to side. He was trying tofigure out a line of action to be followed in case the worst came topass; 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 longe
r.Either he would just have to give over through complete exhaustion; orelse his "bally bow," as Bumpus liked to call it, would break, as it hada faculty for doing when the cord became weakened from constantfriction.

  Bumpus only wished that time would hurry along, for he wanted Giraffe toforget about his fad, and turn his attention to a more sensible way ofgetting fire. Now, there must be a way of snapping an emptied shell intoa 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 verybright with regard to details, for they confused him; so that he wassoon floundering about like a fish out of water; or a boy who did notknow how to swim, when he gets beyond his depth.

  Why, it was real dark, and he could just barely make out the crouchingfigure 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 hiscompanion if only he could suddenly remember having thrust a little boxof safety matches into his haversack before starting out; but he knew itwas useless to look, for he had certainly done nothing of the sort.

  Then, all of a sudden, Bumpus was given an electric shock, when Giraffelet out a shrill whoop; for with his mind so filled by visions of armiesof wildcats all ready to pounce upon them by and by, Bumpus was in acondition 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 uponthem, and they would have to fight desperately for their very lives.