Bart Keene's Hunting Days Part 18

"Better be careful, Stumpy," warned Bart. "It doesn't look as if there had been an eruption lately, and you may catch it all of a sudden."

"Oh, I'll chance it," said the heavy-weight lad.

He walked close to the edge of the spring, which was motionless save for the water that ran from it. Fenn was looking for footprints in the soft ground, but he and his chums had made so many on their own account, on their previous visits to the place, and, as they were still visible (for the ground had not frozen), the amateur detective was at a loss.

"There doesn't seem to be anything here," announced Fenn, as he turned to come away. Hardly had he spoken than he was seen to jump back. That is, he tried to do so, but he was too late. An instant later he was observed to throw up his hands and slowly sink into the marshy ground on the edge of the warm spring.

"Help! Help!" cried poor Fenn, as he felt himself going down. "Help, fellows!"

CHAPTER XVI

FRANK MAKES PANCAKES

"Fellows, he's fallen in a quicksand!" yelled Bart. "Come on, help him out!"

"Look out we don't get in it ourselves," cautioned Frank, but it was from no desire to shirk any danger in rescuing his chum that he was thus thoughtful. Rather he wanted to be on the safe side. "Go ahead, Bart and Ned. I'll get some tree branches, in case you can't reach him," he added.

Ned and Bart started on a run toward their unfortunate chum. Poor Fenn was engulfed almost to his shoulders, and was struggling ineffectually to get out.

"Don't worry, we'll save you!" called Bart encouragingly. "Hold on, Stumpy."

"That's the trouble--there's nothing to hold on to," panted Fenn.

"Is the water hot?" asked Ned.

"No, only warm; but I'm in as much mud as I am water. Give me a hand, and pull me out."

Bart and Ned advanced to do so, but, to their dismay they found that they were themselves sinking in. As they had approached on this side of the boiling spring on a previous occasion, much closer to the water than they now were, it was evident that there had been a shifting of the earth underneath the surface.

"We can't come any closer, Stumpy," announced Bart. "We'll sink in ourselves." He was about to go back.

"Don't--don't leave me!" begged the unfortunate lad, making another attempt to lift himself out of the slough. "Don't go back on me, Bart!"

"We won't. We were only trying to think of a way to get you out,"

answered Bart, as he held Ned back from going too close.

"Here, this will do it," cried Frank, running up at that moment with a long, tree branch. "Take hold of this, Stumpy, and we'll haul you out."

Standing where the ground was firm, Frank thrust forward the branch, Bart and Ned a.s.sisting their chum. Fenn grasped desperately at the other end, and his three companions braced themselves.

There was a straining, a long, steady pull and Fenn slowly began to emerge from the hole. Once he was started it was an easy matter to pull him out completely, and in a few seconds he was out of danger, and standing beside his chums on solid earth. But such a sight!

He was covered with mud almost from his head to his feet. It dripped from his clothes, and his hands were thick with it, while some had even splashed on his face. He had not been rescued more than a minute before there came a rumbling sound, and a spray of mud and water shot up into the air. The volcano was in eruption, and Fenn had been saved in the nick of time, for the place where he had been sucked down was right on the edge of the disturbance.

"How did it happen?" asked Frank.

"It was so quick I can't tell," answered the muddy lad. "All I know is that I went down and seemed to keep on going."

"Better come over to where the water flows out of the spring, and wash off," suggested Ned, and Fenn agreed with him. The water with which he removed the worst of the mud from his clothes was unpleasant smelling, impregnated as it was with salt and sulphur, but there was no help for it. As the three labored to get Fenn into some sort of presentable shape, numerous turtles crawled around them, evidently disturbed by the unaccustomed visits.

"Well, I'll do, I guess," remarked Fenn, at length, trying to catch a glimpse of himself in the little stream of water. "Wow, but that's dirty mud, though!"

"Next time don't go so near," cautioned Bart.

"You should have told me that first," answered Fenn, with a grim smile.

With a final look at the place of the mud volcano the boys turned back toward camp. They had not learned much, save that the mysterious visitor had come in the direction of the boiling spring--why, they could not fathom. Fenn spoke of getting some of the less common turtles to add to his collection, but his chums persuaded him to wait until they were ready to go home.

Fenn's first work, when he reached the tent, was to change his clothes, and then, making a good fire in the wood stove he took a bath, with water melted from snow. He felt better after this, and was about to proceed with the getting ready of supper, for they had taken their lunch with them on their tramp to the spring, and had made coffee on the way.

"Fenn, you sit down and rest, and I'll get the meal," suggested Frank, good-naturedly. "I think I'll give you fellows a treat."

"What'll it be?" asked Ned.

"How would pancakes go?" inquired Frank with a triumphant air.

"Can you make 'em?" asked Bart, doubtfully.

"Sure. I did it at home once; for dad and me. We have some prepared flour here, and the directions are on the package. You fellows go outside, and when the cakes are ready I'll call you in to supper."

"That suits me," observed Bart, and the others a.s.sented joyfully.

Leaving Frank in the cook-tent, they busied themselves about various things, awaiting the call for supper, and with no great amount of patience, for they were hungry.

"Do you fellows smell anything," asked Bart, after a long wait, and he sniffed the air strongly.

"You don't mean to say Frank's burning those cakes, do you?" inquired Ned anxiously.

"No, I don't smell him cooking them at all," answered Bart. "They ought to be pretty nearly done by this time, for it doesn't take long. Maybe he's in trouble. I'm going to take a look."

He advanced cautiously to peer into the cook tent, whence came a series of rather queer sounds. Bart took one look through the flap, and then beckoned to his chums.

"Look, but don't laugh," he cautioned them.

It was well he did, for the sight that met their eyes made them want to howl. Frank was in the midst of the tent, surrounded by several pots, pans, pails, dishes and other receptacles, filled with pancake batter.

He was industriously stirring more in the bread-pan, and there was a puzzled look on his face.

"Hang it all," Frank's chums heard him mutter, "I can't seem to get this stuff right. Guess it needs more flour." He put some into the batter he was mixing, and then stirred it. "Now it's too thick," he remarked. "It needs more water." He poured the fluid in with a too lavish hand, it seemed, for he murmured: "Gee whiz! Can't I get this right? Now I've got it too thin. I'll have to empty part of it out."

He looked around for something into which to pour part of the batter, but every available dish in the tent seemed to be filled.

"No use saving it," Frank went on. "I'll just throw some of it away.

I've got lots left." He emptied part of the batter into a refuse pail, and his face wore such a worried expression as he came back to his task, that Bart and his two chums could not hold back their laughter any longer. As they burst into peals of mirth, Frank glanced up, and saw them spying on him from the tent flap.

"Hu! you fellows think you're mighty smart, I guess!" he muttered.