Oakdale Boys in Camp

by Morgan Scott

  CHAPTER XVIII.

  DISPOSING OF UNWELCOME NEIGHBORS.

  “To begin with,” said Grant, “I told you that I didn’t think theDutchman was as sleepy as he looked, but I’ll confess I never reckonedhim capable of putting up a joke of this sort.”

  “Joke!” rasped Crane, shaking with mingled pain and wrath. “I don’t seeno joke abaout it.”

  “You cuc-can’t see very well, anyhow,” reminded Springer. “One of youreyes is plumb buttoned up. You’re a spectacle.”

  “Yeou don’t have to tell me. Say, ain’t there nothing I can put on tostop the smarting? What are you all standin’ around for? Want to see meperish in horrible agony right before yeour eyes? Why don’t yeou dosomething?”

  It is always advisable for campers, when planning to spend some time inthe woods, to include in their outfit a medicine case containing suchsimple remedies as may be needed; but, unfortunately, the Oakdale boyshad failed to provide anything of the sort. Therefore they were now at aloss to know what could be done to alleviate Crane’s sufferings, butpresently Grant thought of something, and, taking care not to attractthe still whirling and whirring hornets, he went back into the shadowsof the woods and procured two heaping handfuls of soft, moist earth,which, as well as possible, was presently bound or plastered uponCrane’s wounds.

  “Wait till I ketch that Dutchman!” Sile kept muttering through his setteeth.

  “Keep still,” advised Rod. “The bandage will hold those dirt poulticesover your eye and behind your ear, but you’ll shake off the dabs I’vestuck to your jaw and in other places, if you keep on talking.”

  So Sile relapsed into silence, save for an occasional bitter groan, andthe others took into consideration the problem of getting rid of thehornets.

  “We’ll have to destroy the nest somehow,” said Rod, “for as long as thatremains where it is those pests will give us trouble.”

  “We’ll find a way to fix them after breakfast,” said Stone. “As long aswe don’t go near them and fail to attract their attention by ourmovements, there’s little probability that they will give us muchannoyance.”

  “This cuc-camping expedition is certainly proving rather sus-strenuousand exciting,” observed Springer.

  For some reason Piper seemed to find it difficult to suppress a show ofsatisfaction, but this he tried to do, even though he could not forgetwith what glee his companions had joshed him about his unpleasantexperience with the sleeping bag. Had Sleuth known that the victim ofCarl Duckelstein’s “gougers” was responsible for that first nightadventure, he must surely have regarded Crane’s misfortune as a piece ofretributive justice. Unsuspecting, however, he refrained from gloatingand pretended to commiserate with the wretched chap.

  With the fire replenished, Stone put on a kettle of water, and, whilethat was rising to the boiling point, he peeled and sliced some potatoesfrom the small supply they had brought. Bacon, fried out, provided fatin which to fry the sliced potatoes, and the salmon Crane had caught wasput into the kettle to boil. There was a supply of bread left over fromthe loaves baked upon the previous day; and, for variety, Stone made hotchocolate instead of coffee.

  Now at home chocolate, although occasionally enjoyable, is liable toseem rather flat, insipid and tame; but for breakfast in camp, made withmilk, either fresh or condensed, and served piping hot, there is nothingbetter or more satisfying.

  And so, when the fish was properly boiled, the potatoes fried and thechocolate ready, their appetites being by that time keen and demanding,they sat down to a meal which seemed to all, with the exception ofCrane, the best they had yet tasted. Even in spite of his still burningwounds, Sile ate with apparent relish. Once they all ducked as a passinghornet whizzed overhead with a humming sound like that of a tiny gasmotor turning up at full speed. Crane was the only one who did notlaugh; he growled.

  Breakfast over and everything cleared away, they resumed considerationof their new and unwelcome neighbors, a few of which, apparently onguard, hovered around the nest.

  “With a long pole we might smash the sus-stuffing out of that nest,”declared Springer.

  “And probably get ourselves well stung while we were about it,” saidStone. “A smudge is the thing to cook them. A good, heavy smudge,started as close as possible to the nest opening, would smother them asthey came out.”

  “How close is as close as possible?” questioned Crane.

  “Right up against the nest if we can put it there; not over six or eightinches away, at most.”

  “Well,” drawled Sile, with a returning touch of whimsicality, “I’dsartainly like to see some of yeou fellers make that smudge and start itgoin’.”

  “Misery loves company,” laughed Rod. “I don’t judge there’s enoughwealth in this outfit to tempt me to try that.”

  “Perhaps we can work it without getting near enough to be stung,” saidBen.

  “How? how?” they cried.

  “If we can find a pole long enough to enable me to reach the nest andremain hidden behind the end of the tent, I’ll show you.”

  Some time was spent in securing the pole, but eventually, some rods fromthe camp, a tall, straight, slender sapling was selected, cut andtrimmed. Then Stone searched about for the material to make his smudge,stripping the bark, both wet and dry, from cedar tree trunks. He alsosecured a huge dry toadstool as large as his two fists.

  With these things the boys returned to the smoldering campfire, where,placing the toadstool in the center, Ben wound and twisted and tied thestrips of cedar bark about it, with plenty of the dry bark on theoutside and numerous strips running through the elongated ball. The endof the pole, whittled sharp, was then carefully thrust into this ball,after which Ben set it afire and fanned it until it was sending forth asurprisingly heavy, rank cloud of smoke.

  “Now,” he said, “to see what can be done with our friends, the enemy.”

  His movements were watched by the others as, with the butt of the polein his hands, he slipped swiftly round behind the tent. From his placeof concealment he thrust the reeking smudge forth toward the hornets’nest, where a few of the creatures, seemingly on guard, still circledwith much angry grumbling. Up against the end of the nest that containedthe opening, the smudge was pushed, and the nest itself was practicallyenveloped in smoke.

  “Naow come aout, consarn ye, come aout!” cried Crane revengefully.“Mebbe that will cure yeour asthmy and stop yeou from wheezin’.”

  It was impossible to see whether or not the hornets came forth, butcertain it was that, did they attempt to do so, they were promptlyovercome by the smoke, for the few that darted and circled in thevicinity were not augmented in number. Some of these, even, apparentlymaking a desperate and reckless charge toward their threatened home,were seen to drop, overcome by the rank smoke.

  Lowering the butt of the pole to the ground, Stone left the smudgeburning against the hornets’ nest and rejoined his watching friends.

  “We’d better keep watch to see that it doesn’t set fire to the woods,”he said. “By the time it burns out there will not be many hornets leftto bother us.”

  “You’ve got a great head on your shoulders, Stoney, old scout,”complimented Piper.

  “I wish,” said Crane revengefully, “that I could hold that Dutchman’snose in that smoke for abaout one minute. I guess he’d cough some.”

  It was a long time before the smoke of the smudge died down to a tiny,wavering spindle of blueish gray; but when this took place the nest laythere, burned a bit and blackened at one end, a deserted looking thingindeed. If any of the hornets had survived, it seemed that they haddeparted in desperation or despair.

  “Who is going to see if there are any left?” asked Sleuth.

  “I think Sile would be a good one to do that.”

  “What?” shouted Crane, glaring at the speaker with his unbandaged eye.“What d’yeou mean?”

  “Why,” said Sleuth innocently, “if there should be any, and you happ
ento get stung two or three times more, it wouldn’t make much difference.You couldn’t feel a great deal worse.”

  “Bah!” snarled Sile. “That’s sense, ain’t it? If you get me monkeyin’round that thing yeou’ll know it, by jinks!”

  It was Stone who picked up the pole and poked the nest around with it.Although he mutilated that nest, no hornets appeared, and, thrusting thecharred, pointed end of the pole into the thing, he carried it away intothe woods and left it.

  “There,” he said, returning triumphantly, “we’re at peace once more.”