CHAPTER XVII
The Game Warden's Visit
THE boy was really better; but very, very weak. Every time he openedan eye, that next day, solicitous Mrs. Crane was ready with a bowl ofbroth. Once he did not fall asleep immediately but followed her withbig, questioning blue eyes as she moved about the tent. He remainedawake for twenty minutes that time and even moved his hands slightly.
"You've been real sick," explained Mrs. Crane, sociably, her soft darkeyes very kind and encouraging. "You're pretty weak yet, but you'retwice the boy you were yesterday. Could you eat more broth?"
For an instant something that looked like a genuine smile flickeredacross the boy's lips; and his eyes, Mrs. Crane said afterwards, almosttwinkled. Then, in a very thin, weak voice, he said: "Please."
After that he again fell into a long, deep sleep. But now his prolongedslumbers were no longer terrifying, for his breathing was natural, hisfever entirely gone.
"_Can't_ we see him next time his eyes are open?" pleaded Mabel,waylaying Mrs. Crane in the provision tent, "and _couldn't_ I be thefirst one? I found him, you know, so he's really mostly mine."
"Ye--es," replied Mrs. Crane, pondering this matter. "I guess it's onlyfair that you should be the first. If you'll stay where you can see thedoor of my tent, I'll wave a towel when the time comes. But it won't beright away, for he's just gone to sleep again."
"That boat ought to get here to-day," said Mr. Black, who had beenexpectantly gazing from time to time at the lake, "but I suppose thatrascal Dave stopped all along the way to set traps."
Mr. Black was quite right. Dave _had_ stopped to set traps. But firstof all, with characteristic stealth, the conscienceless half-breedhad begun his journey with a comfortable nap. For almost two hours,within five minutes' walk of Pete's Patch, Dave had slumbered, withno thought of anything but his own comfort. After that, he attendedleisurely to the numerous traps along his almost invisible trail.Fortunately--or he might _never_ have reached his destination, he foundonly a solitary muskrat. The big rat was still living. Dave eyed himreflectively.
"Goo'-by, li'le son," said Dave, liberating the bright-eyed prisoner."You ees more bodder dan you ees wort', to-day. An' w'at for Ah'm eatmoskrat! Me, Ah'm go for eat dose bifsteak, dose pork shop, dose bakedbean hon top of Lakeveele. Go home, you son of a moskrat--Ah catch yousom' more nex' veek."
The limping rat splashed into the river, and Dave, after onehalf-regretful glance at the eddying water, at last started brisklyalong the trail that led to Lakeville.
He spent the night with his cousin on the outskirts of the town, whorefreshed him so generously that faithless Dave didn't know, nextmorning, whether he was headed toward Lakeville or toward camp. Sohe slept all that day and the next; while his good friend Mabel, atPete's Patch, made brave efforts to save him from threatened disaster.
Mabel and all the other girls knew that Dave had every reason to fearthe game warden. The youthful castaways, who were not very clear asto the duties of game wardens in general, considered them the naturalenemies of all hunters and fishermen. Dave had once shown the girlsa battered, yellowed newspaper containing a full-length picture ofa brawny, khaki-clad game warden arresting a lawless sportsman. Thehalf-breed had said, half laughingly, half seriously:
"Eef you ees see dose man som' tam', Mees Mabelle, Mees Bet_tee_, don'tyou go for tole her som't'ing about Dave Gurneau, or maybe, me, Ah'mgot maself lock up for sure. Or maybe Ah'm go for pay feefty dollarfine."
The idea of a fifty-dollar fine had probably tickled Dave, who, at thatpoverty-stricken moment would have found it impossible to pay evenfifty cents.
But the girls had been deeply impressed. They saw clearly that a visitfrom the game warden would result disastrously to Dave, whom theyoungsters liked, in spite of his many irregularities; for the ignoranthalf-breed was always good to them in his own peculiar way. And then,too, Mr. Black had said that Dave was to be protected from all chancevisitors.
Very soon after the arrival of the nails, Mr. Black had built arain-proof shed to shelter the disabled "Whale." As it was possible toreach this spot without tumbling into either the lake or the river,Mabel often strolled that way to look for berries, flowers, mushrooms,or mosses--she was apt to return with specimens of all four jumbleduntidily together in the skirt of her dress.
This fine morning, Mrs. Crane having suggested that a few mushroomswould add flavor and bulk to the noon meal, Mabel and Henrietta, withthe praiseworthy intention of gathering a bushel or two, walked alongthe swampy, woodsy road that led to Lakeville.
It was not often that Mabel and Henrietta paired off together, forHenrietta was the oldest, Mabel the youngest of the five girls. Butin some ways pretty, black-eyed Henrietta was more thoughtless, lessresponsible than Jean, Marjory, or Bettie. After the death of heryoung mother, various relatives, including an inexperienced father anda too-indulgent grandmother, had done their best to spoil attractiveHenrietta. They hadn't exactly succeeded; but the unrestrained littlegirl, naturally impulsive, naturally a bit daring, and always veryhigh-spirited, was apt to act first and do her thinking afterwards. Asfor Mabel--why, Mabel simply _plunged_ into trouble. Still, it seemedsafe enough to send this pair forth for mushrooms; so, with a basketbetween them, a smiling sky overhead, they set forth merrily.
"It's funny about mushrooms," observed Mabel. "You can gather all thereare and the next day you find just as many more. But when you pickberries that's the last of them for a whole year."
"I wish," returned Henrietta, "it were just the other way."
"So do I," agreed Mabel, her mouth full of big, red wintergreen berries.
"It never is," sighed Henrietta, sentimentally. "Every time there's astorm, the sea brings in millions of cobblestones and only one agate. I_love_ to hunt for agates."
"If they came in like cobblestones," said practical Mabel, "youwouldn't have the fun of hunting---- Why! There's something coming downthe road. See! That way--toward Lakeville."
"A man on horseback!" exclaimed Henrietta. "Let's hide----"
"What for?" demanded Mabel, bravely.
"His clothes!" breathed Henrietta, in an agonized whisper, as shedragged Mabel backward. "Can't you _see_? It's the game warden--I knowhim by his leggings. Just like that picture. Hurry, Mabel--he's afterDave!"
"Oh! do you _think_ so?" gasped Mabel, paralyzed with horror. "Andall that venison hanging near Dave's wigwam! And all those partridgefeathers on Mr. Black's land! They might arrest him, too! And us! Oh,Henrietta! What'll we do?"
"Run," urged Henrietta, tugging at Mabel's dress.
"But--but I can't!" gasped Mabel, helplessly. "And, anyway, it's toolate--he's looking right this way. But, oh! We mustn't let him goanywhere near Pete's Patch."
"Sh!" breathed Henrietta, warningly; but with a quick, decisive nodthat seemed vaguely reassuring. "Stop looking scared."
The rider, having cautiously and more or less successfully skirteda bad bit of swamp, caught sight of the girls and checked histravel-stained horse.
"Is this the way," he asked, politely, "to Barclay's Point?"
Henrietta's forefinger promptly pointed toward the north--directlytoward the concealed Point.
"Just keep going," she advised. "It's quite a long way, but you'reheaded right for Barclay's."
"Yes," assisted Mabel, after a closer scrutiny of the telltaleleggings, "you just keep going."
"I'm looking," explained the man, "for Mr. Black. He's at Barclay'sPoint, isn't he?"
"Sometimes," replied Henrietta, truthfully.
"How's the fishing up there?"
"I haven't fished," returned Henrietta, shortly. The game warden, itwas plain, would get no incriminating information from Henrietta.
"This road, you say, leads to the Point?"
"Ye--es," faltered Mabel; "yes, if----"
"Never mind the 'if,'" hissed Henrietta, into Mabel's surprised ear."Yes," she added aloud, and very convincingly, "it _does_ lead to thePoint. But you'd better hurry, or Mr. Black may be starting
out forsome other place."
"I'd hate to miss him," said the man, touching his hat. "Thank you,young ladies. I'll go at once--perhaps I'll see you later."
Mabel and Henrietta eyed each other in discreet silence until the soundof hoofbeats had gradually died away.
"We've been bad," breathed Mabel.
"It was necessary," sighed Henrietta. "Goodness knows, I'd _rather_ begood. And that road _does_ lead to Barclay's Point."
"Yes--if you're smart enough to find the turn off."
"That's why I told him to hurry--if he rides fast, he'll _never_ seeit."
"Nobody would," agreed Mabel. "Where does this road go, anyway?"
"Seventeen miles to an old lumber camp--Dave told me. There's anothercamp, not so far, but it has a 'blind turn-off'--you'd _never_ find itif you didn't know just exactly where to look. Even then you'd _think_you were wrong. I guess it'll take him all day to find Pete's Patch.Anyhow, I hope so."
"Shall we tell the others?"
"N--no," decided Henrietta, contemplatively. "By the time he's reachedthe end of that swampy road without coming to anything he'll be tootired and discouraged to _want_ to arrest anybody. He'll just maketracks for home. But when Dave comes we'll tell him to hide hisvenison."
"And," said Mabel, not knowing the depths of Dave's depravity, "he'llsurely be here soon--he'll hurry right back with my father."
"Why, that's so," laughed Henrietta. "Your father _is_ coming. Well,he won't know you--he'll think you're some relative of Dave's, andprescribe soap. But let's get those mushrooms. If that man comes backhe mustn't find us here--he _might_ ask questions we couldn't answer.And I think we'd better roll a log across the turn-off to Pete's Patchand throw a little old brush against it so it won't show."
The Castaways of Pete's Patch Page 20
