The Boy Scouts In The Rockies Part 9

"And how about Davy Jones; he says he's just bound to get some pictures of big-horns on their native rocks, or making some of those famous leaps he's heard so much about; can he be one of the bunch, Thad?"

"Yes, but that is the limit. Three frisky scouts will be about all that any one guide can keep tabs on, I rather think," replied the other, smiling as he tried to picture Toby Smathers endeavoring to hold the ambitious photographer, and the pair of would-be big-horn hunters, in check; for he imagined the task might resemble a circus feat of trying to drive half a dozen steeds at the same time.

When the plan of campaign for the day was made known, there was considerable rejoicing, and a little grumbling. Of course the former came from those who had been lucky enough to draw prizes; while the discontent sprang from Giraffe, who had also cherished certain aspirations, looking to a pair of elegant big-horns, to decorate his den at home in Cranford.

But if Giraffe did occasionally show a spirit like this, the best thing about him was the rapidity with which he got over the "grumbles," as Step Hen called his little fits of the sulks. In five minutes he had apparently forgotten his disappointment, and was offering to loan Smithy his rifle, even before the scoutmaster had mentioned anything about it.

However, it was judged too heavy for a greenhorn to pack around all day; and in order that Giraffe might not feel offended, Thad smoothed matters down, as usual, by administering a little dose of flattery.

"He's only a new beginner, Giraffe, and not used to toting a gun. Why, his shoulder would be sore from carrying it all day. With an old hand like you, it's a different matter; and I rather think that gun just seems to fit into a notch on your shoulder, like it grew there. Now, Bob's gun is much lighter; and with those mushroom bullets, the small bore doesn't matter a bit. So we'll let him take that. Besides, if anything happened here that spelled trouble, you'd feel pretty sore if you didn't have your faithful old shooting-iron at hand."

"That's so, Thad; reckon you're just about right," said the tall scout, instantly, quite mollified.

"And Bob's gun'll seem more like a playtoy to Smithy, too. I always said mine was a man's gun; and when you pull the trigger there's bound to be something doing."

In this clever way then, did Thad frequently stave off trouble and ill feeling among his followers. It requires much tact to successfully manage a pack of boys, representing all manner of dispositions. And the scoutmaster who is the most successful in his line of business, is the one who knows boys best, and has the happy faculty of entering into their ways of looking at things, heart and soul.

During the progress of eating breakfast the talk was of course pretty much all about hunting the big horn. The guide was called upon to narrate all he knew concerning the famous Rocky Mountain sheep, often called goats by the hunters; and which combine many of the traits of the noted chamois of the Alps and the Appenines, with others that are peculiar to themselves.

Any one who has seen them leap boldly from a ledge, and strike upon their great rounded horns far below, is ready to declare that there is not a remarkable spectacle in all the world of wild sport that can equal the sight.

Possibly the Fox knew something concerning these queer mountain sheep; but as Giraffe said aside to Step Hen, "it would needs be a monstrous lemon squeezer that could ever hope to extract any information from an Indian." Aleck, on his part, had often heard stories told about the animals now occupying so prominent a part in the conversation of the scouts; and he did not hesitate to hand over any information he had it in his power to divulge, hoping that it might serve a useful purpose to the intended hunters.

Davy was thrusting several more rolls of films in his haversack.

"No telling what a feller may run up against, once you start out," he remarked.

"The only trouble is, Davy," commented Giraffe, "you can't make a meal off'n the things, if you're hungry, and game shy. I think Step Hen did a wise thing when he stuffed all he could get of eatables in his bag.

And Smithy too carries a lot. Oh! you'll do, now. Thad says you'd better wait about half an hour, till the mists clear off'n the mountains. It's real early, anyhow, and the sheep ain't agoin' to run away; don't you worry about that."

There is nothing that bothers a boy more than having to wait, when he's all ready to do something. The minutes seem to drag as though they were leaden weighted. If Davy unfastened that knapsack of his once to examine its contents, and make sure he had neglected nothing, he did it half a dozen times, until Giraffe declared he would certainly wear the straps out if he kept that up.

Those who expected to remain in camp were going about their usual vocations, as for instance the cleaning up of the breakfast tin pans, and cooking utensils. When a company of eleven souls has been having a meal, these amount to considerable; and it took Bob White, Allan and b.u.mpus some little time to accomplish the task of setting things to rights.

b.u.mpus had gone to get some more water from the stream, and when he came back he was grinning broadly.

"Why, you see," he explained, "there's an old rattlesnake coiled up over there, and I've been making him as mad as hops, poking at him with a pole. You just ought to come and see him strike, though!"

"I heard him rattle!" declared Thad, "but somehow I just thought it was a locust waking up. Come on, boys, and let's put such a dangerous customer out of the way!"

CHAPTER IX.

BAITING A RATTLESNAKE.

Of course they all hastened after the scoutmaster and b.u.mpus; the latter really leading the way, with a consequential way about him, as though he felt that he ought to be looked upon as master of ceremonies, by right of first discovery.

"Here's the pole I had, when I poked him," he remarked, picking it up as he spoke.

"But where's the rattler?" demanded Giraffe, just as swift as that; for he was always as quick as lightning in his ways. "Show the old fraud to us, will you? Must a slipped away while you came to camp with the water."

"Huh!" sneered Step Hen, "I'd rather believe now, b.u.mpus don't know a rattler when he sees one. P'raps it was only an innocent little garter snake he was pokin', and a locust was singin' in a tree all the while."

b.u.mpus looked furious. He had lately gained quite an envious reputation for a remarkable knowledge of woodcraft; and he was up in arms at the idea of being thus placed once more in the tenderfoot cla.s.s.

"Think I don't know a genuine rattlesnake when I see one, do you; well, what d'ye think of a feller that'd jump over a log without even lookin', and when a common garden variety of black snake gave him a jab, he hollered that he was poisoned by a terrible rattler, and could even see his poor leg swellin' up right before his eyes. Me not know one, when I've been in the Zoo reptile house down in New York, and even watched one swallow a rat! Well, I guess you're away off, Step Hen Bingham."

"Yes," put in Thad just then, "and it's too early in the day for a locust to be in the noise business; I ought to have thought of that myself, I own up. Let's look around, boys, and locate the thing; but be mighty careful how you step. I can cure a good many things with the few little remedies I carry; but excuse me from having to tackle a regular dose of rattlesnake poison."

"It is a bad thing, I tells ye, lads," a.s.serted Toby Smathers, who had come along with the rest, even the Indian boy being present. "Many's the time, years ago, I've seen the Injuns getting poison from a rattler, so's to make their war arrows more deadly. An' I tells ye, it war worth watchin'. If so be we kin find this critter, I'll show ye how 'twas done, if Mr. Scout Master sez so."

"First get your rabbit, before you start to cooking him," laughed Thad.

Just then Giraffe let out a whoop.

"Here he is, all coiled up again, and looking wicked, now, I tell you!" he called out; and the others rushed in that quarter.

"Well, he is a sorter big un for the mountains, sure enough," admitted the guide after he had taken a look. "Wait here a bit till I come back with a piece of deer meat, and I'll show ye how 'twas done. Keep him riled-up like, but not strikin' too hard at that pole, or he'll empty his pizen sack on it."

Thad had himself heard more or less about such things; or else read of them in stories of the old-time Indians, the Iroquois, Delawares, Shawanees and other tribes who disputed the way of the early pioneers; and he was just as eager to watch the process as any of the other boys.

The rattlesnake was coiled, just as they always are when danger hovers near; because, when caught at full length, the reptile is next to harmless, since it cannot strike and make use of its only means of defense, its poison fangs.

Thad saw to it that no one approached near enough to be in any danger.

Once the pole was extended by b.u.mpus, just to show his mates how he had been baiting the awful looking thing. Instantly that flat head sprang out toward the object; and as b.u.mpus adroitly drew it away, remembering the injunction of the guide, the rattlesnake, finding nothing to strike, was thrown half its length out of coil. It was almost laughable to see with what haste it managed to curl up again, and with that rattle buzzing furiously, seemed to defy anything to touch it.

Then Toby Smathers came hurrying up. He was fastening a piece of venison (which had been left over several days, and kept well in the dry mountain air,) to another long pole, which he had secured; not wis.h.i.+ng to handle the one that had already been struck numerous times by the fangs of the snake.

"Now you're going to have something worth while to mudge at, old feller!" cried b.u.mpus, as he threw his pole away, and pushed a little closer in the ring, anxious to see all that went on.

Toby was soon ready. He thrust the pole out, and all of them could hear the sound of the concussion as the reptile struck the piece of meat fastened at the end. It made most of the boys shudder just to contemplate being hit such a venomous blow with all the fury of a maddened reptile.

Again and again did Toby cause the snake to repeat the blow, turning the meat around several ways, so that it might all be impregnated by the virus.

"Now that's about done," he said; "and the quicker ye kill that crazy thing the easier I'll feel. Lost a partner once when on a range tending forests for the Government, and ever since I've got a grudge agin rattlers."

Thereupon b.u.mpus once more picked up his long pole and aimed a vicious blow at the raised head of the snake. Taking the creature fairly across the neck he sent it spinning away.

"Look out there!" shouted Giraffe, giving a hop, skip and a jump in another direction; "he may be playing possum on us! Keep clear of him, everybody; and you, b.u.mpus, hit him again as hard as you can. It ain't the easiest thing agoin' to kill a snake, let me tell you."

Accordingly the fat scout raised his pole, and brought it down several times with might and main, on the neck of the fearful looking reptile; until finally Thad declared that it was beyond ever doing any harm again.

"And the rattle belongs to b.u.mpus, if he cares to claim it," said the scoutmaster. "It isn't a pretty thing, but then every time he looks at it, he'll be apt to remember this occasion, and can picture the camp, the mountains, and all the rest of it."

"Including Mike and Molly, our gentle pack mules," added Giraffe; immediately bending down to a.s.sist b.u.mpus secure his prize.