The Boy Scouts at the Canadian Border

“Too bad in one way that the poor old thing couldn’t finish his feast in peace,” Tubby was saying, “but then I suppose it’s the chances of war. There’s always a state of open war between these bobcats and all men who walk in the woods.”

“Well, I should say yes!” cried Andy, patting himself proudly on the chest. “I’ll always call this one of the best day’s jobs I ever did. Think of the pretty partridges, the innocent squirrels, the bounding jack-rabbits and such things, that I’ve saved the lives of with that one grand shot. If this beast lived three years longer it’d surprise you, Tubby, to count up the immense amount of game that it’d devour in that time. I never spare a cat under any circumstances.”

“Do you think it was all alone in the cabin?” asked the timid one.

“We’ll soon find out,” Andy told him, as he saw to it that his gun was in condition again for immediate use, and then started toward the closed door.

Cautiously this was opened a trifle, and one by one the boys peered through the crevice; all agreed that there was nothing stirring, and so eventually they made bold to pass inside.

It was discovered that the uninvited guest had made free with some of the stores of the party, but after all, the damage did not amount to a great deal, possibly owing to the coming of Rob and his two chums on the scene shortly after the cat started chewing at the half of a ham it had dragged down from a rafter.

The boys quickly removed all signs of feline presence. Andy declared that he intended skinning his prize, for the pelt if properly cured would make quite an attractive mat for his den at home. It would be pleasant of a winter evening, when resting in his easy chair, to gaze down upon the trophy, and once again picture that stirring scene up there in Maine, under the whispering pines, hemlocks and birches.

They adjusted themselves to the new conditions with that free and easy spirit so natural in most boys. It was next in order to pick out the bunks they meant to occupy while in the logging camp; for there were signs to tell them which had been already chosen by Uncle George and his two guides; and of course, no one thought to settle upon any of these particular sleeping-places.

They soon had a fire burning, and the interior looked quite cheerful. Sitting there Tubby could easily picture what a stirring scene it must have been in those times long gone by when a dozen, perhaps even a score, of muscular lumber jacks lounged about that same dormitory and living room, waiting for the cook’s call to supper.

Later on Tubby came up to Rob while the other was arranging some of the contents of his pack, “scrambled” more or less, as he called it, by being carried for several days on his back, and thrown about “every which-way.”

“Look here, Rob,” the fat scout said, “I happened to run across Uncle George’s fresh log of the trip. He always keeps one, and I’ve even had the pleasure of reading about some exciting adventures he’s met with in former years. So that’s my only excuse for glancing at what he’s jotted down here. The last entry is where he made up his mind to go over to the Tucker Pond to try again for that giant moose. And by the way, Rob, I was wondering whether our excited visitor of last night could be this big chap Uncle George is so wild to get?”

“Now that might be so,” admitted the scout leader, “though the thought hadn’t occurred to me before. He certainly was a buster of a beast, though he went off so fast none of us more than got a glimpse of his size. Anything of unusual importance in the beginning of your uncle’s log, Tubby?”

“Oh, he got a deer on the opening day of the season, and we’ll probably find some of the venison around, if we look again sharply. Something did happen it seems, something that gave my uncle considerable unhappiness, too. He lost one of his two guides.”

“What! did the man die here?” ejaculated the astounded Rob.

“Oh! my stars! no, Rob, not quite so bad as that,” Tubby hastened to add. “He had to discharge the man because of something he’d done. Uncle doesn’t say what it was, but he was both indignant and pained; because he thought a heap of Zeb Crooks, who had been with him many seasons. The man was stubborn, too, and wouldn’t ask Uncle George to forgive him, or it might have all been patched up. So he sent him flying, and started off to Tucker’s Pond with his other guide, a Penobscot Indian named Sebattis.”

“Well, that’s interesting, Tubby,” remarked Rob. “It doesn’t mean anything to us, though I can understand how sorry your uncle must have been to part with a man he used to consider faithful. So it goes, and lots of things happen that are disagreeable. I suppose he’ll have just as good a time with the one guide to wait on him as when there were a pair.”

Apparently Uncle George’s troubles did not bother Rob to any extent; but there were things weighing on his mind though, during that afternoon, and these had a connection with the flight of that man in the aeroplane, over across the Canadian boundary line.

CHAPTER VIII

TUBBY HAS AN ADVENTURE

Tubby was particularly interested in looking around. He had heard so much about these hunting camps of his sport-loving relative that now he had the chance to see for himself he kept prowling about. It was Tubby who presently discovered a haunch of fresh venison. Andy immediately announced that the keen-nosed wildcat was not in the same class with the stout chum.

“Say, we can have a mess of real venison for our camp supper to-night,” added the delighted Tubby. “Haven’t we a warrant for taking liberties in that Notice, where Uncle George invites the pilgrim to enter, wait, and make merry? How can any one be merry without a feast? I’ll take all the responsibility on my shoulders, boys, so make up your minds the main dish to-night will be deer meat.”

Later in the afternoon Tubby wandered outside to look around.

“Don’t go too far away and get lost, Tubby!” called out Rob, who himself was busily engaged.

“Oh, I don’t mean to more than stretch my legs,” came the reply. “Here’s a bucket, and there must be a spring somewhere handy. I think I’d like a drink of fresh water. I might as well fetch some back with me. Yes, now I can see a beaten path leading from the door in this direction. Rob, I won’t be gone long.”

“All right, Tubby,” Andy called out in turn. “If you don’t turn up inside of half an hour we’ll send out a relief corps to look for you. Be sure to fetch a supply of that spring water back with you. I’m getting a bit dry myself.”

So Tubby walked off. He was feeling in the best of spirits. He believed his troubles were mostly in the past, and the immediate future looked as rosy as the sky at dawn. In another day or two Uncle George would surely turn up, when the little operation of having that paper signed could be carried out. Then for a week of unalloyed happiness, roving the pine woods, feasting on royal game, and enjoying the society of the world-wide sportsman at evening time, when sitting in front of a cheery blaze inside that bunk-house the boys would be entertained with wonderful stories of the amazing scenes Uncle George had run across during his long and adventurous career.

Tubby had no difficulty in following that beaten path. In going to and from the spring the guides had made such a plain track that even a worse greenhorn than Tubby might have kept right. In fact, to stray would have been unpardonable sin in the eyes of a scout.

It proved to be much longer than he had expected. Tubby fancied that there was another water place closer to the camp, though Uncle George for some reason of his own preferred this spring. The path turned this way and that, passing around high barriers of lopped-off branches, now dead, and beginning to decay as time passed. Tubby could not but shudder as he contemplated the effect of a stray lighted match thrown into one of these heaps of dead stuff, that would prove as so much tinder. He hoped they would not have the ill luck to witness a forest fire.

Finally he came to the spring. It was a fine one, too, clear and bubbling. Tubby lay as flat as he could, and managed after considerable exertion to get a satisfying drink of that cold water.

“My, but that is good!” he told himself, after he had once more resumed an upright position. “I don’t wonder at them coming all this distance to get a supply of water. Now to fill my bucket, and trot back over the trail; and by the same token it won’t be just as easy a job as coming out was. But then the boys will thank me for my trouble, and that’s quite enough.”

As Tubby started off, carrying the pail of water, he suddenly bethought himself once again of that tremendous bobcat Andy had killed. It occurred to Tubby that he had been informed such creatures were always to be found in pairs. What if the mate to the defunct cat should bar his way, and attack him, recognizing in him one of the party that had been the means of making her a feline widow?

Tubby did not like the idea at all. He cast numerous nervous looks about him, as he hastened his steps a little. As a rule he swept the lower branches of the trees with those keen glances, for if the bobcat were lying in wait to waylay him it would select some such roost for its hiding place.

Then all at once Tubby plainly heard a sound behind him, that was exactly like the swift patter of feet in the dead leaves and pine needles. He whirled around and immediately experienced one of the greatest shocks of his whole life!

In and out of the aisles of the forest a moving object came pattering along. Tubby saw that it was about knee high and of a singular dun color. To his eyes it looked terribly fierce!

“Oh, murder! It must be a savage wolf, come across from Canada!” was what he told himself, remembering something he had heard a man say while they were waiting at a little wayside station in Maine, about such beasts of prey having been unusually plentiful up in Canada in the preceding spring, and bolder than ever known before.

Tubby wanted to drop his water pail and run like mad. He also would have liked to give a series of shouts, not that he was frightened, of course, but to sort of alarm the animal and cause him to turn tail; but his tongue seemed to be sticking to the roof of his mouth in the queerest way ever, and which for the life of him he could not understand.

But while he still held on to the bucket Tubby did manage to get his legs in motion once more; he was far from being paralyzed. The animal kept advancing and stopping by turns. Tubby thought the wolf was laying a plan to surround him, when the beast trotted to one side or the other. Yes, and the cunning of the animal to wag his tail that way, and act as though pleased to see him! Tubby thought of that ancient fairy story about Little Red Riding Hood, and how she met a wolf on the way to her grandmother’s home. They always were tricky creatures, no matter in what country found; but Tubby was on his guard.

By now at least he had managed to regain his voice, and when the wolf trotted closer than he thought was safe he would make violent gestures with his arms, and try to shoo him away. Apparently the beast did not know just how to catch Tubby napping, for he continued to trot along, forcing himself to look as amiable, Tubby saw, as he possibly could, although not deceiving the boy in the least.

“You can’t fool me with your making out to want to be friendly, you miserable old scamp!” he chattered, after he had actually put down the now only half filled bucket, the better to throw up both arms, and pretend to be picking up stones, all of which hostile actions caused the obstinate creature to dart away a short distance although quickly coming on again. “Get out, I tell you! Oh, why didn’t I think to get the loan of Rob’s gun! What if he tumbles me down in spite of all my fighting like mad! But, thank goodness, there’s the cabin, and maybe I can make it yet!”

He did in the end, and burst upon the other pair like a thunderbolt, so that both boys scrambled to their feet, and Rob exclaimed:

“What ails you, Tubby? Have you seen that big bull moose again – and did he attack you?”

“Oh, Rob! Andy! The wolf! The wolf!” stammered Tubby, now completely out of breath; but he had said quite enough, for the two boys snatched up their firearms and darted out of the cabin.

Tubby waited, fully expecting to hear shots, and perhaps wild yelping. Instead he soon caught the sound of whistling, and then he heard the boys laughing heartily. While Tubby stared and waited they came back into the bunk-house. The panting fat boy was startled to see trotting alongside, leaping up again and again, his terrible “wolf”!

“W-w-what’s all this mean, fellows?” he stammered in bewilderment, at the same time dimly comprehending how his fears had magnified the evil.

“Only that your wolf turns out to be a poor dog that’s probably got lost in the woods and was trying to make friends with you,” laughed Rob.

Tubby quickly recovered, and joined in the laugh. The joke was on him. He no longer declined to make up with the four-footed stranger. His heart was tender, and he repented having called the wretched beast so many hard names. Tubby was really the first to discover that the dog acted as though almost famished, sniffing around, and looking longingly up toward the hams that hung from the rafter.

“Oh, you poor fellow!” said Tubby. “I bet you’re as hungry as can be. Haven’t had a single bite for a whole day? I guess I know what that means. I’ll fix you out in a jiffy, see if I don’t; Uncle George will say I’m doing the decent thing by you, too. Here, Wolf, for I’m going to call you that just for a joke, watch me get you a hunk of the poorest part of that haunch of venison.”

Tubby was as good as his word, too. The stray dog had reason to rejoice over the freak of fortune that had sent him in the way of these new friends. Indeed, he gave promise of turning out to be quite a welcome addition to the party, for all of the scouts were fond of pet animals that could show affection. Wolf duly licked Tubby’s plump hand after being fed, as his only way of displaying dog gratitude.

So the long afternoon wasted away. As evening approached the boys gave up all hope of seeing Uncle George that day. But then none of them worried, for things had turned out splendidly so far, and they could find reason to hope for the return of the party within forty-eight hours at most.

Tubby was as good as his word, too, and cut off quite a bountiful supply of that nice fresh venison, which he cooked with some strips of bacon; for all of them knew that this was the only proper way in which such meat should be used, since it was too dry to be attractive otherwise.

They pronounced the supper “gilt-edged,” which in boyish language means the acme of perfection. As every one, including even “Wolf,” whose appetite seemed boundless, proved to be exceedingly hungry, the repast was a royal feast. Then they sat around the fire, chatting and telling stories. Tubby even started up one of their school songs, and being joined by the other pair, the low rafters of that bunk-house resounded with the glorious refrain. In days past sounds far less innocent, ribald language and loud oaths, may have been heard within those walls, for as a rule the sturdy lumber jacks are the roughest kind of men, as hard as some of the knots they strike with their axes.

An hour or so later the boys settled down for a good sleep. Wolf had been let out for a run, and did not come back again, so Rob said he must be feeling so refreshed after his feed that he wanted to take a turn around, possibly in hopes of finding his lost home; or again it might be he was desirous of running a deer, for Wolf was a guide’s dog, they had determined.

When they all retired the dog had not shown up again. Andy said he was an ungrateful cur, deserting his friends in that fashion; but Tubby stood up manfully for the dog, declaring that it was only right he should want to find his own people.

The fire had been allowed to die down, and Rob meant to let it go out. To shut the glow from their eyes he had made use of a rude screen doubtless intended for this very purpose by Uncle George.

An hour, perhaps several, passed away. Then Rob felt some one clawing at his arm, after which a low whisper sounded close to his ear. It was Andy, and he had something to communicate that was quite enough to cause a thrill to shoot through the heart of the aroused scout master.

“Listen, Rob, and keep very still,” said Andy softly. “There’s some one outside the door trying to get in. I heard him try the latch and give a push; and I think he’s gone to prowling around, trying each of the wooden shutters over the windows in turn.”

CHAPTER IX

THE MAN OUTSIDE

“Sure you weren’t dreaming, Andy?” whispered Rob, in turn, as, having listened for a brief time, he failed to catch any unusual sound.

“Not a bit of it,” the other assured him. “I sat up and made certain of it before crawling out of my bunk. I tell you there is somebody outside there, and he’s doing his best to get in, too.”

The night wind was sighing through the pinetops, Rob noticed. Could Andy’s imagination, excited by some dream, have conceived the idea that a would-be intruder was “fiddling” at the door, and endeavoring to find ingress? Rob was still undecided, but at the same time he considered it the part of wisdom to get out of his bunk and slip his feet into a pair of warm moccasins he always carried with him.

It was almost dark inside the long bunk cabin. The fire had died down, and even if there were still smouldering embers present the wooden screen hid them from sight.

Rob now became aware of the fact that Andy clutched something in his hands. The touch of cold metal told him it was a gun. This would indicate that the other fully believed what he asserted, and that some strange man was even then about to force an entrance into the cabin, possibly under the belief that no one was occupying the building at the time.

“There, did you hear that?” came again from the aroused Andy. “He’s trying one of the window shutters. Rob, I remember that several of them are kind of loose. When he strikes one of those he can get it open easily enough, and then what’s to hinder him pushing in the sash?”

“Well, there is something moving around out there, I do believe,” muttered Rob.

“Oh, I wonder if it could be Wolf come back!” said an awed voice close to them.

“Hello! Are you there, Tubby?” questioned Rob cautiously, for neither of them had noticed that they were crouching close to the bunk selected by the third member of the party. Tubby, chancing to awaken, must have heard them whispering.

“Yes, but could it be the dog, do you think, Rob?” asked the fat scout eagerly.

“That’s silly talk, Tubby,” Andy told him, so softly that his voice would not have carried any distance, and might never have been distinguished from that crooning night breeze that rustled the hemlocks and passed gently through the pinetops.

“Dogs couldn’t reach up and shake a shutter that stood five feet from the ground. It’s a man, that’s what; and we’d better figure on how we’re going to give him the surprise of his life, if he gets inside here.”

“Wait till I get my little hand electric torch,” said Rob, who often carried one of these useful articles about with him; indeed, any fellow who has handled such a neat little contraption in an emergency knows that they are worth their weight in silver every time.

The one Rob had was very diminutive; in fact, a “vest-pocket edition,” it was called; but upon pressing the button quite a strong ray would be thrown forward. He kept it handy when sleeping in the open.

“Tubby, get out of your bunk, and be ready to lend a hand,” ordered Rob. The one addressed hastened to do as he was told.

“Tell me what I’m to do, Rob,” he pleaded.

“Bring both your heads closer this way,” continued the leader. “Now, this is the scheme: Tubby, you creep over to the fire, and when you hear me call out throw that wooden screen down, and then as quick as you can get a handful of the fine tinder on the fire, so as to set up a blaze. Understand?”

Tubby said he did, and accordingly Rob went on further:

“Andy and myself will try to find out which window the man is going to creep through, and we’ll form a reception committee. When I turn on the light, you, Andy, be sure to cover him with your gun, ready to shoot if he attacks us. Get that, do you?”

On his part Andy assured the chief that he understood perfectly.

“Well, then,” concluded Rob, “all I want to say is that after Tubby sees the fire begin to pick up he is to dart over and get my gun here, with which he, too, will proceed to cover the intruder. That’s all. Now get busy, boys. Andy, come with me, and be careful not to strike your gun against anything so as to alarm him. Tubby, head over to the fireplace, and be ready to act!”

It was intensely exciting, Tubby thought, as he managed to cross to the end of the long bunk-house, where the yawning fireplace stood – the same gaping aperture down which that bobcat had dropped, and up which he had also climbed with such fatal alacrity later on, when dispossessed by reason of the acrid smoke fumigation.

Reaching the place assigned to him, Tubby felt of the wooden screen. He found that it would only require a smart push to send it flat, after which he could turn his attention to snatching up some of the fine dry tinder which had been arranged in a little pile close by; and as Tubby had paid more attention to the cooking than any one else, he ought to know to a dot where to find this “fire-starter.”

Meanwhile, Rob and Andy had started to creep along close to the side of the log cabin wall. Rob was heading directly toward the spot where he had distinctly heard the last suspicious sound. If the prowler without had found that shutter fast he would just as likely as not examine the next one, and keep trying until he ran upon a damaged wooden cover which the winds had banged back and forth until it could no longer do full duty.

Yes, there was some one shaking the next shutter which had been used to keep the drifting snow out when the loggers were in camp during the long winter months. As the two boys crept closer they could hear a grumbling sound, just such as might proceed from a disappointed man who was being continually baffled in his efforts to force an entrance.

Rob had been thinking as he moved, and several possibilities had in turn taken possession of his active mind. Could this be Uncle George himself, come back to the abandoned logging camp, and who upon finding the door barred from within, was now trying to gain an entrance? At first Rob rather favored this idea, but he quickly realized how slender a hold it had in the way of plausible facts.

In the first place the sportsman would hardly come back minus his Indian guide, unless Sebattis, too, had proven false, and had to be sent flying like Zeb Crooks. Then, again, if he suspected that some passing hunters were occupying the bunk-house, having accepted the invitation to enter and make themselves at home, why should not Uncle George call out and ask them to open the door to him? No, there was something much more suggestive and suspicious about this event than the return of the mighty Nimrod. This unknown party did not suspect that the cabin was occupied; he meant to get in, perhaps to make free with the property left there by Uncle George.

In a word, Rob was more than half convinced already that he knew who the man outside, fumbling with the various wooden shutters, must be – no other than that same Zeb Crooks, who possibly had come sneaking back, knowing the intention of his former employer to leave the camp unprotected for a few days – come back to rob the place of anything valuable that he could find and sequester.

Rob did not bother trying to communicate this to Andy, for there was no need, and it would hardly have been politic, with the man outside so close to them. He was now at the next window, and Rob believed that the crisis was at hand, for the man gave a satisfied grunt as though things were finally working to suit his purposes.

So he nudged Andy, as if to warn him to be on the alert, though truth to tell there was little need of this, for the other scout was fully aroused every second of the time, with his gun clutched in nervous hands ready to do his duty when the call came.

Yes, the window was being shoved back now, and the man still muttered to himself. One thing sure, he never dreamed that the cabin had occupants, though how the door came to be fastened on the inside must have puzzled him somewhat.