Oakdale Boys in Camp

by Morgan Scott

  CHAPTER IV.

  A BAD NIGHT FOR PIPER.

  “Why, Sleuthy,” drawled Crane, in pretended surprise, “I thought yeouwas goin’ to stand guard all night to keep off bloodthirsty redskins and‘gougers,’ or other wild animals. Is it possible yeou’re goin’ to let ussnooze unprotected—is it possible?”

  “Huh!” grunted Piper. “I guess there’s no danger, and I’m mighty tired.There won’t anything touch us.”

  “Then,” laughed Grant, rousing from his reverie and picking up theguitar, “you no longer fear that tomorrow may see our scalps dangling inthe wigwams of the Wampanoags?”

  “The progress of civilization,” returned Sleuth, “the irresistibleadvance of the ruthless palefaces, has driven the red men steadilytoward the setting sun, and I have a conviction that not many Wampanoagsremain in this region.”

  “But,” said Springer, rising to his feet, “it might be a good thing forsomebody to kuk-kuk-keep guard. The rest of us would sleep better. Whydon’t you do it, Pipe?”

  “Why don’t _you_?” snapped Sleuth. “You needn’t think you’re going tothrow everything on to me.”

  “P’r’aps he’s afraid of the spook that’s said to prowl around thislake,” suggested Crane mischievously. “Yeou know folks claim the oldlake is haunted by the ghost of a hermit that used to live on SpiritIsland, and lots of people have heard the ha’nt wailin’ in the night.”

  “Bosh!” sneered Sleuth. “Nobody believes such stuff these days. Thereain’t any ghosts.” Despite this assertion, his eyes were seen to roll abit nervously toward the near-by shadows.

  “P’r’aps not,” admitted Sile; “but sometimes some folks see and hearmighty peculiar things that they can’t explain.”

  “Well, I’m not going to stay up all night watching for spooks,” retortedPiper; “and, as far as wild animals are concerned, I’ll slip a couple ofshells into the gun and keep it right near me, and if anything comesprowling round I’ll fill it full of lead. I’m a light sleeper, anyhow,and it’ll be easy for me to wake up.”

  Stone had relighted the lantern and hung it in the tent, that they mightsee to undress and retire. Grant threw a few more sticks on the coalsand followed Ben into the camp, Piper at his heels.

  While Sleuth was loading the gun and getting out the sleeping bag Crane,struck by a sudden mischievous idea, whispered eagerly to Springer, whoclapped a hand over his mouth to suppress a giggle.

  “Git him away from the tent, Phil—git him away somehaow,” urged Crane;“and keep him till you hear me whistlin’.”

  A few moments later Phil shouted from the water’s edge far out at theextremity of the point:

  “Ho, Sleuth! Come on out here! Sleuth! I say, Sleuth, hurry up!”

  “Hey, what’s the matter?” Piper called back from the tent door. “Whereare you?”

  “Out here on the pup-point; out close to the water. There’s somethingjumping in the water, and I think it must be fish. You know all aboutfish, so cuc-come out and tell me if I’m right.”

  Piper hesitated and grumbled, but the others urged him to go.

  “We want to know if there’s fish araound here,” said Crane, “for ifthere is mebbe we can ketch a mess for breakfast. Go on aout, Sleuth,and see.”

  His vanity thus appealed to, Piper issued forth, crossed the patch oflight made by the reawakened fire and disappeared beyond, calling toSpringer. Barely had Sleuth disappeared when Crane hastily found a lardpail in which various articles had been brought along, dumped thecontents, warned the wondering Grant and Stone to keep still, and passedround to the rear of the tent, as the sound of his footsteps betokened.It was not long ere he was back, bringing the pail with the coversecurely in place.

  “Git holt of the mouth of that sleepin’ bag, you fellers,” he hissed.“Hurry up, before Sleuthy returns.”

  “What are you up to, anyhow?” questioned Stone cautiously.

  “Never yeou mind. Don’t waste time askin’ questions naow. There’s goingto be something doing after Piper crawls into this old bag.”

  They held the mouth open for him, and, removing the cover from the pail,he dumped its contents inside the sack, chuckling all the while.

  “What the dickens——” began Stone.

  “A good big dip right aout of the middle of that ants’ nest,” snickeredSile. “Them little black bugs can nip like sin, and they’ll have Sleuthysquirmin’ some in no time. Shake ’em daown to the bottom—that’s right.Naow spread it aout jest as he left it. Don’t give it away to him, butjest wait for the circus to commence after he pokes himself away intothat thing.”

  He began undressing, whistling at the same time, and soon Piper andSpringer were heard returning from the point, engaged in an argument asto whether or not they had seen fish “breaking” in the water.

  “Never mind,” said Grant, as they entered; “I reckon we’ll find out inthe morning whether or not there are fish around here. Hustle up,everybody, and turn in. I’m all ready, and don’t fancy having you gentsfussing and growling and keeping me awake.”

  Ere Piper had undressed to his underclothes, which were of the athleticvariety and in which he proposed to sleep, all save Crane had wrappedthemselves in blankets and rolled on to the bed of balsam boughs, thefragrance of which pervaded the entire tent.

  “Git in, Sleuth, so I can put aout the light,” urged Sile. “Got yeourold gun all ready, ain’t ye? Be sure to keep off cougars, and don’t letanything git into the tent to bite ye in the night.”

  Piper somewhat laboriously and bungingly stowed himself into the bagfeet first, Crane snickering in spite of himself as he watched theperformance, while more than one of the blanket-wrapped bodies on theboughs quivered suspiciously.

  “What are you laughing at?” demanded Sleuth resentfully, as he pulledthe top of the bag up around his shoulders. “Perhaps you think thisisn’t comfortable, but I want you to understand it is. I’ll get morereal good solid satisfaction out of this bag tonight than you will onyour old bough bed.”

  “I was jest thinkin’,” returned Crane, “that it might be kind of hotinside that thing this time of year. When I git too hot in the night itsets me to scratchin’ something awful—makes me itch, like things wasbitin’ me.”

  “You’d better have your bed examined,” sneered Sleuth pointedly. “I’mnever troubled that way.”

  “Haow do you hitch this thing up raound yeour neck?” asked Sile,examining the top of the bag. “I should think yeou’d want it fastened,so yeour shoulders wouldn’t stick aout. I see haow it’s done, but itmust be consarned awkward to fasten it from the inside. I’ll do it forye.”

  In spite of Sleuth’s protest that he did not want the top fastened tootightly, the joker slyly drew it close and made it secure. This done, helost little time in folding his blanket round him, extinguishing thelight and rolling on to the boughs, where, like the others, he eagerlyawaited developments.

  Save for the mournful peeping of a tree-toad in a near-by thicket andthe occasional crackling of the fire, the light of which flickered onthe tent and shone through the narrow opening in front, a profoundsilence settled for a time over the camp. It was not long, however,before the waiting boys heard Piper moving a bit restlessly in the bag,and in a short time the sound of these movements became more distinct,seeming to indicate that Sleuth was squirming about uneasily. Springerturned a snicker into a poor imitation of a snore, and Crane poked himsharply in the ribs. Almost immediately Piper was heard scratchinghimself vigorously.

  “Drat it!” he whispered to himself; and Springer’s body shookconvulsively.

  Following this, the boy in the bag began jumping and twisting about, andseveral smothered slaps were heard.

  “Hey, what’s the matter with yeou, Sleuthy?” mumbled Crane in apretended tone of sleepiness. “Why don’t yeou keep still? Haow do yeous’pose anybody is goin’ to sleep with yeou kickin’ up all that rumpus?Ain’t yeour old sleepin’ bag comfortable?”


  “Sure, it is,” answered Piper; “only there was a hubble under me like astone. Gee whiz! I didn’t know it was so hot tonight.”

  “Dud-dud-dry up!” growled Springer. “If you keep talking you’ll gug-getme wide awake, and I’ll never go to sleep. Lie still, Sleuth.”

  “I’m comfortable now,” assured Piper. “It’s all right.”

  But barely had he uttered these words when he gave a tremendous jerk andresumed his scratching more vigorously than ever.

  “Guess you were right, Sile,” he finally admitted; “these sleeping bagsare hot things. Don’t know what makes me itch so. Oh, gee! feels likesomething was nipping me.”

  “Will you never keep still, Sleuth?” exclaimed Grant.

  “I’m sorry,” said Piper, struggling to sit up; “but something isstinging me like a lot of nettles. Oh, great smoke! it’s fierce. Say,Sile, won’t you unfasten this old bag? I can’t seem to get out of thething.”

  “No, I won’t unfasten it,” returned Crane in pretended exasperation;“but if yeou don’t lay daown and keep still I’ll hit yeou with a boot orsomething.”

  “I can’t lie down,” protested Sleuth, rapidly becoming frantic. “I tellyou something is chewing me up to beat the band. I can feel thingscrawling on me.”

  “It must be all imagination,” put in Stone, who, although he enjoyed thejoke, really pitied the victim. “Still, imagination is very painfulsometimes. Why don’t you let him out of the bag, Sile?”

  “Let him aout of the bag!” snapped Crane, rising on his elbow. “Well, Iguess not! Didn’t he tell us haow comfortable them things was? Hewouldn’t lift a hand to cut boughs for a bed.”

  Piper groaned. “But I washed the dishes,” he almost wailed. “Say, unhookme, Sile, and let me out, or I’ll have a fit. I tell you there’s thingscrawling all over me, and they’re just chewing me up alive.”

  “You don’t suppose they’re ‘gougers,’ do you?” snickered Springer.

  “Oh, laugh—confound you, laugh!” snarled Sleuth furiously. “You thinkit’s a joke, don’t you?”

  “Sort of sus-seems that way to me,” admitted Phil.

  “Oh, say!” wailed the miserable fellow in the sleeping bag. “If I don’tget out of this thing I’ll go crazy. I tell you I’m being eaten up aliveby something.”

  “Did you ever read a certain essay on the ‘Power of Imagination,’Piper?” asked Stone. “If you ever have, you should realize that a personmay make himself very miserable by conceiving all sorts of foolishthings.”

  “No, I’ve never read your old essay,” howled Sleuth, thrashing around inthe bag. “But I tell you this is no imagination; this is the real thing.Light the lantern, somebody, for the love of Mike! I’m burning up. I’mall afire.”

  “But there ain’t no fire in the bag—there can’t be,” asserted Cranerelentlessly. “Just the same, somebody ought to git a bucket of waterand souse him. P’r’aps that would keep him still.”

  Springer could hold himself in check no longer, and he burst intoshrieks of laughter, during which Piper, kicking and floundering, rolledover and over until he was outside the tent.

  At this point Stone sprang up and hastened out to bend over the writhingvictim, and the others, eager to see all there was to be seen, also roseand peered forth.

  It was with no small difficulty that Ben prevailed on Sleuth to keepquiet long enough for the mouth of the bag to be unfastened. When thiswas done, the boy inside scrambled forth, fiercely kicking the thingfrom him, and by the light of the fire he discovered a number of blackants running wildly about upon his person.

  “There they are!” he cried. “There’s what bit me! I told you somethingwas doing it. Oh, murder! let me get out of my underclothes.”

  Frantically he stripped off every rag and stood stark naked in thefirelight, still brushing and slapping and scratching.

  “Well, I swan to man!” said Crane, who had also come out of the tent.“If them ain’t ants, I’m a woodchuck. Haow do you s’pose they got intothe bag?”

  “Must have been there a long tut-time,” said Springer. “Seems to me I’veheard that one of the troubles with sleeping bags was that they madefuf-fine nests for ants and all sorts of insects. You’ll never gug-getme to sleep in one.”

  “You never will me—again,” vowed Piper. “Being eaten alive by ants isworse than being burned to the stake by redskins.”

  He was savagely shaking his underclothes as he spoke, having turned thegarments inside out.

  Stone carried the sleeping bag some distance from the camp and flung itover the low limb of a tree, and the boys urged Piper to make sure therewere no ants remaining upon his person or his underclothes before here-entered the tent.

  “There are two extra blankets,” said Grant. “You can have them, Sleuth,and make yourself comfortable as possible. We’ll light the lantern andlook around to make sure there are no ants left in here.”

  Apparently none had escaped from the bag, and after a time Sleuth waspermitted to return and settle down with the blankets beside the bed ofboughs occupied by his companions. The lantern was again extinguished,and finally, one by one, the boys dropped off to sleep, although theoccasional chuckling of Springer was heard even after some of the otherswere breathing regularly and heavily.

  Gradually Piper’s wounds ceased to smart, and, with no suspicion of thefact that he had been the victim of a rather painful joke, he sought tocompose himself for slumber. Nevertheless, the experience through whichhe had passed made it no easy matter for him to get to sleep, and he laythere, turning now and then as the minutes slipped away into hours andthe hours lengthened. At times the odor of the balsam boughs mingledwith the faint smell of smoke which a fitful breath of rising windbrought into the tent from the smoldering coals of the fire. Thetree-toad continued its mournful peeping, and away in the woods a birdawoke and chirped. Once something fell from a tree, making a swishingsound as it cut through the leaves and struck the ground with a softthud.

  Although he no longer suffered much from the attack of the ants, Piperfound his every sense painfully alert. Through the opening at the frontof the tent he could see the faint, dull glow of the coals, which grewdimmer until it finally faded completely. At irregular intervals thenight seemed to breathe with puffs of air which set the leaves rustlingas if they were whispering to one another. Off in the woods somethingstirred, and there was the barely perceptible cracking of a twig, as ifit had been broken beneath a soft and stealthy foot.

  Imagination was vigorously at work with Piper, and he fancied all sortsof creatures to be prowling about in the vicinity. He was vexed becauseclose at hand his four comrades slept peacefully, while he remained thusexasperatingly wide awake.

  Suddenly, far away from the bosom of the lake, came a long, low moaningcry that thrilled the wakeful lad from his toes to the roots of hishair, for there was something weirdly doleful and terrible in thatsound. Instantly he thought of the ghost of the dead hermit, which wassaid to haunt Spirit Island, and his teeth began to chatter a little.Never had he imagined that a night in the woods could be so fraught withawesome and terrible sounds. He was tempted to awaken the others, butknew they would be angered and scoff at him if he did so. Of a sudden hethought of the gun, and, thrusting out his hand, touched the cold barrelof the weapon, which he had placed near by. Grasping it, he seemed tofeel his courage returning.

  “If anything comes around here it’ll get hurt,” he whispered to himself.“There won’t be any fooling about it, either. I’ll shoot.”

  As if applauding this courageous attitude on his part, he heard a suddenclapping sound, which seemed to come rushing toward the tent and ceaseabruptly.

  “Now what was that?” he speculated, sitting up and holding the gunacross his knees. “It was something. I’d just like to know.”

  Getting out of the blankets, he rose to a crouching position and steppedtoward the front of the tent, the gun gripped fast in his fingers. Thedarkness outside was not nearly as deep as he had thought it wou
ld be,and he could plainly perceive the outlines of tree trunks near at hand.Holding his breath, he crouched at the tent opening, gazing one way andanother.

  A fresh strong breath of air swept over the point, moving the tree topsand picking up a swirl of ashes from the fireplace, so that the lastremaining coals were uncovered and fanned into a glow. And then, withinten feet of the fire, close to the trunk of a tree, he saw what appearedto be a black human-like body, above which rose a ghastly white facewith two huge burning eyes. Those eyes of fire, seeming to glare uponhim, sent cold chills darting along his spine. Immovable as a statue, hecrouched, the gun in his hand forgotten for the moment.

  Once more from the vague and distant bosom of the lake came thatdreadful, doleful cry; and, as if in answer, a hoarse voice, half humanyet demon-like, seemed to burst from the creature with the glowing eyes.

  Gasping, Piper pushed the catch of the hammerless with his thumb, flungthe butt of the gun to his shoulder, levelled the weapon at that blackfigure with the ghastly face and fiery eyes, and pulled both triggers.