Jack Winters' Campmates Part 10

Would a bear, for instance, be apt to make such snorting sounds when searching the wagon for some prize tidbit that its keen scent told it was to be found there? Steve believed even this might be possible. He gripped his club with a firm conviction that there would soon be a little ruction taking place around that immediate region beside which the famous Donnybrook Fair in Ireland could never hold a candle, "to use the language of his own thoughts."

But then, of course, Jack must shoulder the main brunt of the fight, because he had the gun in his possession. Steve only hoped Jack would be able to send his first charge straight into the heart of Bruin, so as to bring him down immediately. That would save them all from a rough-and-tumble encounter where claws and teeth would be apt to play havoc with their cuticle, and render their faces far less attractive than when they left home.

How about the law? Steve asked himself, for it seemed as though in that minute of time the boy's active brain were capable of grappling with every sort of question, and finding an adequate answer. Of course bears were protected in the summer close season; but when a fellow's life was at stake no game law had a right to force him to lay down and allow a measly bear to walk all over him, as well as steal his precious grub.

So in a flash of time Steve settled that matter in his mind, all right.

Jack would be acting well within his privilege as a citizen of the State if he defended his property against robbery. No law could touch him for doing that; and then besides, they could bury Mr. Bruin down deep, so that the game wardens would never find a trace of him there.

Steve really felt better after settling this weighty matter. Of course it still remained for Jack to carry out the provisions of the plan of campaign; but then Jack was a fellow with steady nerves, and might be trusted to do his part without a slip-up. Only Steve did rather envy him the privilege of actually shooting a big, hairy bear; for later on what a great thing it would be to tell to some of the Doubting Thomases of Chester. Yes, before burying the defunct beast they ought to remember to cut off one of his great paws with its ugly claws, so as to have some trophy to show as positive proof of their story.

Well, while Steve's active mind was fixing all these wonderful details with so much accuracy they were all three of them creeping along inch by inch, and drawing nearer and nearer to the scene of activity.

Instead of diminishing the strange sounds actually increased in volume.

They were now accompanied by a crunching, of which Steve could make nothing, for he was not sufficiently acquainted with the peculiarities of bears to know how they acted when foraging for food, and climbing into a covered wagon at that in search of the same.

"Jack!"

That was Toby trying to speak in a whisper, but his voice was wofully weak, and moreover had a strange tremor about it that at another time would have made Steve laugh uproariously; but he did nothing of the kind now, partly because he suspected he could not have delivered himself in any stronger tones if he had attempted to speak.

"What is it?" came in a sibilant whisper over Jack's shoulder; for he was only a few feet ahead of the other pair of crawlers.

"Hadn't I better shoot with the flashlight now?" asked Toby eagerly, showing how he had not forgotten what his line of duty was, in spite of all the excitement attending their issuing from the tent.

"I'll give you the word right away, so be ready," Jack told him, cautiously; but the sounds over there at the wagon continued just as vehemently as before, and it was plainly evident that the thief cared little or nothing about their presence near by. "He's around at the back of the wagon, and I'm trying to get so as to cover him properly. Another six feet ought to do the business, so keep steady, Toby."

"Oh! I'm as steady as a rock!" affirmed the one who carried the flashlight; but it must have been a very wobbly rock then, if his bodily condition corresponded with the decided quaver in his shaky voice.

Ten seconds later and Jack suddenly exclaimed:

"Turn the light on the rascal, Toby!"

Toby hastened to comply with the demand. Just as he did so they were thrilled to hear a flickering whinny, a very sociable whinny in fact, coming from the rear of the covered wagon. Then as the strong white glow shot forth they made a wonderful discovery.

The dreadful thief was disclosed in all his grim proportions. He stood there with his stubby tail switching back and forth, and contentedly munching great mouthfuls of oats which he had managed to secure from the gaping sack, opening which had doubtless given him all the trouble and caused those strange grunts.

Yes, they recognized him as soon as the light fell on his sides, and Jack instead of raising the gun to his shoulder instantly let its muzzle drop to earth. For it was only gaunt old Moses, the beast of burden, broken loose, and hunting the fountain head of what he considered his too meagre meals.

CHAPTER XII

FISHERMAN'S LUCK

"Why, it's only our old Moses after all!" cried Steve, as though the astounding truth had burst upon him like a thunderbolt from a clear sky.

"And he's trying to founder himself with the whole supply of oats, the rascal!" Toby added, indignantly.

But Moses was not afraid of foundering, apparently. He just gave another contented whinny of delight, whisked that impudent stump of a tail of his, and plunged deeper into the oat sack, which he had succeeded in getting open.

Jack was perhaps the least surprised of the trio, and even he had not more than begun to suspect the true state of affairs when the light was turned on. He doubled up with laughter, for it was really comical to see how eagerly Moses was delving into his oat supply, as though he feared he was now about to be divorced from his feast, and retired in disgrace, wherefore he wished to gobble all he could while the golden opportunity lasted.

After they had all had several convulsions of merriment Steve concluded it was time they took things in hand. Such dreadful liberties could not be allowed, or the offense condoned.

"We've got to make him break away from those oats, that's all there is about it," he went on to say, seriously. "A poor old nag of a horse never knows when he's had enough."

"Horses don't happen to be alone in that cla.s.s, Steve," chirped Toby.

"Never you mind about that," snorted the other; "and it doesn't become you to give me a dig, Toby, because for a fellow of your size you can go me one better when it comes to eating. But, Jack, we ought to put a stop to this midnight feast, hadn't we? Oats cost money, and even horses have their price in the market."

"Sure thing, Steve," chuckled the one addressed, as stepping forward he endeavored to lead Moses away from the tail end of the wagon.

The old horse strenuously objected, and upon finding Jack determined he took one farewell grab at the fine contents of the sack, so that he could have something to munch on for a while afterwards. He gave repeated backward looks toward the wagon, and seemed very unhappy when all his dreams of a glorious feast had been knocked on the head after this rude fashion.

"Now, you hold him a minute or two, Steve," remarked Jack, "while I go and get into some clothes. This night air is salubrious all right, but apt to set a fellow's teeth to chattering."

"That's right, it is so," Toby acknowledged; but despite his shivering he would not retreat to his warm blanket until the show had ended.

Jack hurried as best he could, having pity on his chums. When he came back partly dressed he sent them to their beds.

"I'll tie up old Moses so he won't be apt to get loose again in a hurry," Jack advised them, and adding a bit reproachfully, "for you must have been in a hurry after watering him in the evening, Steve. After this I'll make it a point to see he's all right before I turn in."

So the horse was led away, and his rope once more fastened, this time in such a secure fashion that there was no possibility of its getting untied. He could move around within a certain radius, and nip the sweet gra.s.s, as well as dream of how close he had been to the greatest banquet of his natural life.

Before he went into the tent Jack reset the tin-pan trap. It had already paid for what little trouble it caused him, because only for the alarm having been given none of them might have heard Moses at his surrept.i.tious work; and consequently he would have devoured the entire two weeks' supply of oats, or killed himself in the endeavor to dispose of them, which would have been a calamity in several ways, both for Moses and the camping party.

Again did the little hand-torch come in for a meed of praise on the part of the one who had to carry out all these things in the middle of a dark night. Both the others seemed to be pretty far gone along the road to dreamland when Jack crept under his blankets. Toby did drowsily grunt, and ask if everything was all right, but apparently hardly knew what he was saying; so Jack only answered with a word, and cuddled under his coverings, for he felt a trifle chilled.

There was no further alarm that night. The expected prowler did not show up, much to the satisfaction of all concerned; and morning found them in good shape. Moses was already whinnying as to remind them that horses got hungry. Apparently the old reprobate never knew what a close call he had had; left to his own resources, morning might not have been so calm for him, if he lived to see the sun rise at all. And as Toby wisely said, horse doctors must be as "scarce as hens' teeth" up in the Pontico Hills district.

Somehow the adventure of the night seemed to appear even more comical when viewed in the broad light of day. Toby in particular laughed every time he thought of old Moses standing there, monarch of all he surveyed, and trying to gulp the oats down like mad, as though he feared it was too good a thing to last.

"Do you know," Toby observed, as they sat at breakfast that morning, "Moses actually seemed to have tears in his eyes when Jack here forced him to leave the end of the wagon. Why, that was the one grand opportunity of his life to stuff--a regular Thanksgiving jamboree spread out before him. He kept turning his head and looking back as if he had lost his best friend. If he'd been going to the execution block I don't think he could have shown more regret. Poor old chap, it was almost cruel to cheat him out of his feast."

Then they turned their thoughts to other subjects, because, as Jack wisely said, while this escapade on the part of Moses may have been a great event in his life, it was only an episode with them.

"How shall we spend today?" Jack asked.

"Well, since you want to know my opinion," spoke up Toby, briskly, "I've got my mouth made up for another mess of those fine and frisky Paradise River ba.s.s; and I'd like a whole lot to have one of you fellows go over with me."

"How about you, Steve?" queried Jack, turning to the partner of his previous day's long trip.

"Reckon I'd be wise to lay off a spell, because, to tell you the truth that heel did give me a mite of bother, especially on the return trip.

You go with Toby, Jack, and take your camera along. He says there are some dandy things you might want to snap off between here and the river.

And in case either of you hook a four-pound ba.s.s you can get a picture of the fight that will be worth seeing, as well as of the beauty after he's landed. I mean to get over there later and try my luck, don't forget, Toby, so leave a few in the river, please."

So it was settled. Jack somehow did not seem disposed to take that long tramp on two successive days, though doubtless he had certain plans arranged in his mind which could be carried out later on. With nearly two weeks still ahead of them it was needless to hurry matters. "Rome wasn't built in a day," he often told the more impatient Toby, when the other was showing signs of fretting because things failed to move quite as rapidly as he wished.