Jack Winters' Campmates Part 5

"Perhaps you're counting your chickens before they're hatched," chuckled Jack, apparently much amused by this conversation on the part of his chums; "for there's no certainty that it means to rain today. That sign business used to make a great hit with people before they began to reason things out; but it as often misses making connections as it does strike the truth."

"Guess it must be a whole lot like the almanac people," laughed Toby.

"You know they just guess at probabilities when setting down what the weather is going to be six months ahead. I remember reading a story about one of the most famous of almanac makers, I forget what his name was, but let it go as Spilkins. He was walking out in the country one fine morning when there wasn't a sign of a cloud in the sky. A farmer working in a field called out to him that he'd better keep an eye above, for like as not there'd be rain before the day was done. Spilkins only laughed at him, and went on; but sure enough, an hour later it clouded over like fun, and down came the rain, so that he had to seek shelter in a friendly barn.

"Now, as an almanac man, he thought it worth while to go back and interview that hayseed, and find out just how he could tell there was rain coming when not a sign was visible. I guess Spilkins thought he might pick up a valuable pointer that he could make use of in prognosticating the weather ahead.

"The man was working again in his field, where the shower had made things look fresh and green. So Mr. Spilkins called him over to the fence, and after pa.s.sing a few pleasant remarks, bluntly asked him how he could scent rain when not a small cloud was in the sky. The farmer grinned, and this is what he told him:

"'Why, you see, Mister, we all of us take Spilkins' Reliable Family Almanac around this region, and we goes by it regular like. When he sez it's going to rain we calculate we'll have a fine day for haying; and when he speaks of fair weather, why we just naturally git out our rain-coats, and lay for having a spell in the woodshed. And I happened to notice this same mornin' that he predicted a fine day, so I jest knowed it'd sartin sure rain; and, sir, _it did_!'"

Both the others laughed at the story, which neither of them had heard before, old though it was.

"That's just about the haphazard way almanacs are built up," observed Jack. "Of course in a few instances they do hit the truth; so could any of us if we laid out a programme for a year ahead. It's natural to expect hot weather along about this time of the summer; and such a spell is always followed by a cooler period. So we'll take our ducking when it comes, and not bother our heads too much ahead of that time."

While sitting there they mapped out their intended plans for the day.

Jack figured on starting out a little later, and securing some more photographs. Steve, not wanting to spend another day in camp, asked permission to accompany him.

"Certainly you can come along, Steve," he was told; "if you think your heel is equal to the long jaunt, because I may cover quite a good many miles before coming back to camp again. How about that? I wouldn't like you to start limping, and be in misery for hours."

"Oh! the old thing seems to be all right this morning, Jack," Steve a.s.sured him. "That salve was sure a magic one, let me tell you, and took all the pain out of the rubbed place. I've found a way to prevent it ever hurting again; and right now I'd be equal to a twenty-mile tramp if necessary."

"How about you, Toby, will you mind acting as camp guardian for today?

Tomorrow one of us might want to go over to the river with you, and have a try at the ba.s.s; but on the whole, I think it would be wise to keep watch over our things."

Jack said this seriously, so they knew he was not joking.

"Why, do you really think that man, or any one else, for that matter, would actually _steal_ things from us?" demanded Steve, frowning as he spoke, and perhaps unconsciously clenching his fists pugnaciously.

"I'm only guessing, remember," Jack informed him. "It might be a raid on our camp would be made during our absence. Don't you see, if our being up here annoyed certain people, the quickest way they could get rid of us would be to steal all our eatables while we were away from camp. We couldn't stick it out and go hungry, could we? Well, on that account then we'd better keep a watch."

"Jack, you're right!" snapped Toby, while Steve looked even more aroused than ever at the bare possibility of such a calamity overtaking them; for Steve, as we happen to know, was a good eater, and nothing could appall him more than the prospect of all those splendid things they had brought along with them being mysteriously carried off by unknown vandals.

"Toby, just you keep that shotgun handy, and defend our grub with the last drop of blood in your veins," he went on to say. "Now, I'll step out and see if Moses has finished the oats I gave him before we had our breakfast. While about it I'll lead him over for a drink at Turtle Creek below the spot where we get our supply of clear water."

"Thanks for your trouble, Steve; you'll save me doing it later," spoke up Toby, graciously. "When you fellows are off I'll wrestle with the dishes and cooking outfit. After that I've got several things I want to fix about my fis.h.i.+ng tackle--some snells to tie fresh after heating them in boiling water; and hooks that need filing about the points, as they seem a bit dull. Then there's a guide on my pole--I mean my rod, that needs winding with red silk thread. Oh! I'll find plenty to keep me busy I reckon."

Ten minutes afterward Steve came hurrying back with a look of concern on his face that caused both Jack and Toby to jump to the conclusion that he had made some sort of important discovery.

"It isn't Moses that's broken away and given us the slip, I hope?"

gasped Toby, and then adding: "no, because I see him over there where we tied him out so he could eat his fill of green gra.s.s. What's happened, Steve; you look like you've met up with a ghost?"

"We had a visitor last night, just as sure as anything, boys," said Steve, solemnly; "and we can thank our lucky stars he didn't run off with our stuff in the bargain!"

CHAPTER VII

PROSPECTING FOR PICTURES

"How do you know that, Steve?" asked the startled Toby.

"Guess I can read tracks when I see them!" snapped the other.

"Then you've come across some sort of trail, I reckon?" ventured Jack.

"Just what I have," came the quick reply, "and here's the way I happened to hit on it. Tell me, do either of you chance to own this pocket handkerchief?" and as he spoke Steve flipped the article in question from its hiding place, and held it up before his comrades.

Both gave a hasty look, and shook their heads in the negative.

"Never saw it before," Toby went on record as saying; "and it's an unusually fine piece of material, I should say, just such as a gentleman who cared a heap for his personal appearance and clothes would be likely to carry."

"Well, you picked that up first of all, and it excited your suspicions; is that it, Steve?" queried Jack.

"It started me to looking around the spot," explained the other, "and right away I saw the tracks of shoes--long shoes in the bargain, making prints entirely different from anything we'd be likely to do. So says I to myself, 'h.e.l.lo, Mister Man! I see you've been snooping around here while we slept like the babes in the woods!' And so I came in to let you fellows know about it. Want to see for yourselves, don't you? Then just follow me."

They were soon examining the imprints. Just as Steve had said, there could be no question as to the tracks having been made by some one other than themselves. More than this, Jack could easily tell that they were comparatively fresh.

"Let's follow them a little bit, and see what he was up to," he suggested, which they accordingly set out to do, and found that while the stranger did not actually enter the camp he did scout around it as though desirous of seeing all he could.

"Wanted to know if Toby here spoke the truth when he said we were only a bunch of fun-loving boys off on a vacation camping trip, didn't he, Jack?" Steve asked, as if to confirm his own suspicions.

"Yes, he actually went completely around our camp, and in several places seems to have approached pretty close," Jack went on to say, after they had given up following the trail of the unknown man. "I think he must have even heard some of us breathing inside the tent, and perhaps he could count our number that way. But after all no great harm has been done; only it goes to show we must keep our eyes open all the time we're up here."

Toby heaved a great sigh.

"Whew! but it's getting some exciting, let me tell you, fellows. All the while you're gone today I'll be nervous and think I heard footsteps every time a gray squirrel whisks around a tree, or barks at me so sa.s.sy like."

"Do you think this could be the same man who talked with Toby yesterday, Jack?" Steve inquired.

"We can guess that it must have been," came the answer. "He wasn't wholly satisfied with things, and dropped over in the night to learn if this camp was actually run by boys. You see how wise the lady was, after all, for if this party had run upon three _men_ in camp up here, the chances are he'd be more apt to suspect their motives."

Steve shook his head as though ready to give it up. He never in all his life had been so thoroughly mystified as just then. Toby, too, had an anxious expression on his face, as though he would give considerable if only Jack felt disposed to explain the whole matter. But Jack held his peace; apparently nothing could induce him to betray the confidence of the lady who had trusted him. When the right time arrived, he would divulge the secret; but until then both his chums must content themselves with taking it out in speculations.

Finally, Jack began to collect his photographic paraphernalia as though about to get ready to start forth on his tramp. Steve had meanwhile looked after a "light lunch," which he facetiously called a "snack"; though it filled two of his coat pockets, and Jack had some difficulty in stowing away his portion.

Toby eyed these amazing preparations with something akin to awe.

"Say, do you really expect to come back tonight, or are you figuring on staying out a whole week?" he asked plaintively; at which Jack, taking compa.s.sion on him, hastened to a.s.sure Toby there was no cause for worry.

"You know Steve's weakness," he went on to say aside, "and of course he is always in deadly fear of starving to death. That's why he loads himself down so with grub on the least provocation. But never expect to see a crumb come back, for that would be against Steve's principles, you know. He thinks it a shame to waste food; and so he'd stuff himself until he could hardly breathe rather than throw anything away. We may be a little late in the afternoon, but we'll bob up serenely long before dark comes."

So they set out, Toby waving them goodbye with his dish towel, for he had started in to do the breakfast things.

For a whole they walked along, observing everything that seemed worth their attention. Then Steve took note of a certain fact which he deemed significant. This was that Jack was heading in an almost straight line, as though he had arranged a plan of campaign for that day; and also that if they kept along that course, sooner or later they were bound to fetch up in the neighborhood of the place where that strange booming sound had originated.

This fact agitated Steve, and made him think many things. He even found himself speculating upon the chances of their running across the stranger who was taking such a deep interest in their presence in the Pontico Hills country.