The Boy Scouts on Sturgeon Island Part 2

"I can't hardly see him any more, the branches are so thick," complained b.u.mpus ducking his head this way and that.

"That's because he's gone on again," argued Giraffe; "seems like he didn't find any signs of a real panther when he took that survey."

"Hold your horses!" was all Davy allowed himself to say, though no doubt he himself had commenced to have serious doubts by now.

Half a minute later and there broke out a series of strange sounds from up above their heads.

"Listen to that, now, would you?" cried Davy, bristling with importance again. "Don't that sound like Thad might a hit up against something big? Hear him talking, will you? Didn't you catch what he said right then--no, you don't grab me, you rascal; I'm afraid I'll have to knock you on the head yet! Say, don't that sound like Thad had found my panther, and was keeping him off with that club he took up with him.

Oh! what's that?"

Something came crashing down as Davy uttered this last exclamation. The boys were horrified at, first, because they imagined it might bit Thad and the panther, that, meeting in midair, had lost their grip, and were falling to the ground, fully forty feet below.

"Why, it's only his club," cried Giraffe, quickly.

"Then he must have let it get knocked out of his hand!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed b.u.mpus. "Oh! poor Thad. He'll be in a bad fix without a single thing to fight that animal with!"

"That's where you're mistaken, because I can see him now, and he's acoming down the tree right smart!" Step Hen announced; which intelligence allowed b.u.mpus to breathe freely again, for his face was getting fiery red with the suspense that had gripped him.

"That's so!" echoed Giraffe, "and I'm looking to see if there's any signs of a big cat trailing after him, but so far nothing ain't come in sight."

The five scouts on the ground hastened to close in around the foot of the big tree, so as to welcome their patrol leader when he dropped from the lower limb.

"Seems to me Thad acts kind of clumsy, for him," announced Step Hen; "now, if it'd been b.u.mpus here I could understand it, because, well I won't say what I was agoing to, because it might make hard feelings between us; and with all his shortcomings b.u.mpus is a good sort of a chap."

"Huh! da.s.sent, that's what!" grunted the party indicated, making a threatening gesture in the direction of his fellow-scout.

The arrival of the scout-master caused them to forget all other things.

Thad, as soon as he found his feet fixed on solid ground once more, strode straight up until he faced Davy Jones, and suddenly called out:

"There's your panther, Davy!"

There was a craning of necks, a gasping of breaths, and then a series of yells broke forth that made the nearby woods fairly ring with the echoes.

CHAPTER III

THE CAMP ON THE LAKE Sh.o.r.e

"Why, it's only a big owl!" shouted Giraffe.

"Hey, Davy, shake hands with your yellow-eyed panther!" roared Step Hen.

b.u.mpus s.n.a.t.c.hed up his bugle, for he held that office in the Cranford Troop, and let out a piercing series of blasts that would have undoubtedly frightened any wild animal, had there been such within a mile of the camp on the lake sh.o.r.e.

It was a large owl that Thad grasped in such fashion that the bird could not reach him with its curved beak, though it made several vicious lunges, as though anxious to fight the whole patrol at once.

He had kept it hidden under his coat when descending the tree, and now gripped it firmly by its two splendidly colored wings.

"Well, it did have yellow eyes, all right," complained the dejected Davy; "and as it stuck there in that black hole, how was I to know it was only a harmless old owl, a hooter at that?"

"If you think he's harmless just try and lay a finger on him," said Thad. "Why, he'd snap you like lightning; once let that beak strike, and you'd lose a piece of skin as big as a half dollar. He's a savage bird, let me warn you."

"Oh! say, can't we, keep him for a pet?" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed b.u.mpus, who could hardly take his eyes off the bird, for its plumage was certainly beautiful, being a combination of creamy yellows and nut browns, while two bunches stuck up like horns from the region of his ears.

"I've got a nice little chain we might put around one of his legs, and what fun we'd have with the thing while we were afloat on the raging lake," Step Hen went on to say.

"Allan, get on that thick pair of gloves we brought, and see if you could fasten the chain to his leg. It would be worth while to have some sort of pet along with us; because b.u.mpus has kicked over the traces long ago, and won't let us make a baby out of him any more," Thad went on to remark.

When he had protected his hands in this way, Allan had little difficulty in adjusting the slender but strong steel chain which Step Hen had brought with him, intending to use in case he managed to capture a racc.o.o.n, or some other small beast, for he was especially found of pets.

When they had fastened the other end of the chain to something, the owl sat on the limb of a tree, and gazed at them with blinking eyes. There was still enough of daylight, with all that glow in the western heavens to interfere with his sight more or less, and he simply ruffled up his feathers in high dudgeon, and kept trying to pick at the chain that held his leg.

"Now, that's what I call a pretty good start," argued Step Hen, as he stood in front of the chained owl, and admired his plumage; "perhaps later on I might happen to land a 'c.o.o.n or a mink, who knows. I've always believed that I'd like to have a pet mink, though somebody told me they couldn't be tamed."

"Yes," went on Giraffe scornfully, "if you had your way the whole boat'd be a floating menagerie, you've got such a liking for pets. The mink would soon be joined by a 'possum; then would come a pair of muskrats; after which we'd expect to find a fox under our feet every time we stepped; a wolverine growling like fun at us when we made the least move; a squirrel climbing all over us; a heron perched on the garboard streak, whatever that might be; and mebbe a baby bear rolling on the deck. All them things are possible, once Step Hen gets started on his collecting stunt."

"Well, forget it now, won't you, Giraffe, because there goes b.u.mpus putting supper on the fire; and unless you look sharp he'll just cut down your ration till you'll only get as much as any two of us," advised Step Hen.

In spite of all these little encounters of wit, and the sharp things that were sometimes said, boy fashion, these six churns were as fond of each other as any lads could possibly be. There was hardly anything they would not have done for one another, given the opportunity; and this had been proved many times in the past.

While they were fond of joking the tall scout on his appet.i.te, truth to tell every one of the others could display a pretty good stowage capacity when it came to disposing of the meals. And so they were all anxious to help b.u.mpus when he started getting the camp supper ready.

Besides these six lads there were of course two others who went to, make up the full complement; of the Silver Fox Patrol; and who have figured in previous stories of this series.

These boys were named Robert Quail White, who was Southern born, and went by the name of "Bob White," among his friends; and Edmund Maurice Travers Smith, conveniently shortened to plain "Smithy."

These two had taken a different route to the lake, and expected to meet their six churns at a given rendezvous. They were intending also to make use of another boat, since the one engaged for the party would only accommodate seven at a pinch, and counting the scout-master they would have numbered nine individuals in all.

The other two had found that they wanted to see the wonderful Soo Ca.n.a.l, and the rapids that the St. Mary river boasts at that point, where the pent-up waters of Superior rush through the St. Mary's river to help swell the other Great Lakes, and eventually pa.s.s through the St.

Lawrence river to the sea.

It is no joke cooking for half a dozen hungry scouts, and the one whose duty compelled him to be the chef for a day had to count on filling the capacity of coffee-pot and frying-pans, of which latter there were two.

Evening had settled down upon them by the time they were ready to enjoy the supper of Boston baked beans, fried onions with the steak that had been procured at the last town they had pa.s.sed through; crackers, some bread that one of them toasted to a beautiful brown color alongside the fire, and almost scorched his face in the bargain; and the whole flanked by the coffee which was "like ambrosia," their absent chum Smithy would have said, until they dashed some of the contents of the evaporated cream into each tin cup, along with lumps of sugar.

"This is what I call living," sighed Giraffe, as he craned his neck visibly in the endeavor to see, whether there was a third "helping" left in the pan for "manners," which was another name for Conrad Stedman.

"Hadn't we better save this piece of steak for Tim?" suggested Step Hen, wickedly, for that was the name he had given to the captive owl.

"No, you don't," objected Giraffe, vociferously, just as the other had known he would do; "that's the very last beef steak we're apt to see for half a moon; and I say it would be a shame to waste it on a heathen bird. Besides, you couldn't coax Jim to take a bite till he's nearly starved; ain't that so, Thad?"

They always appealed to either the a.s.sistant scout-master or Allan, whenever any question like this came up, connected with bird or animal lore; and no matter how puzzling the matter might seem to the one who asked, it was promptly answered in nearly every instance.

"Yes, he isn't likely to take hold for a day or two," replied Thad. "By that time the old fellow will sort of get used to seeing us about; and he won't refuse to eat when you put something out for him; only all of you be careful that he doesn't prefer a piece out of your hand. Don't trust him ever!"