The Boy Scouts of Lenox Part 20

"Well, that was a queer happening, wasn't it?" said Tom, as they prepared to resume their fis.h.i.+ng, which had been so singularly interrupted.

"It'll make an interesting event for your note book, Tom," declared Felix.

"A deer is seldom seen around this region," Josh ventured to say; "which makes our luck all the more remarkable. I wouldn't have missed that sight for a good deal!"

"I saw Stanley Ackerman using his camera, so let's hope he got a bunch of snapshots that'll show the whole circus," Felix announced.

"How about allowing dogs to roam the woods up here, Tom; isn't it against the law in this State nowadays?" Josh asked.

"It certainly is," he was informed. "For a good many years chasing deer with hounds, and using a jack-light at nights to get them, has been strictly forbidden. Time was when packs of hounds used to be met with in plenty. Men would start out and hunt deer that way. Then the papers took it up, and showed the cruelty of the so-called sport, and it was abolished."

"According to the law anybody is allowed to shoot dogs caught in the act of running deer, especially in the summer time; isn't that right, Tom?"

"Yes, that's what we would have had a perfect right to do if we'd had a gun along. But I don't believe that pack belonged to any one man. They are dogs that have gone wild, and having gathered together in the woods, live by hunting."

"I've heard that dogs do go back to the old wolf strain sometimes,"

Josh admitted; "and now that you mention it, Tom, there was a wild look about every one of the beasts. I even thought they had half a notion to attack us at one time; but the way Felix kept that paddle flas.h.i.+ng through the air cowed them, I guess."

The fis.h.i.+ng was resumed, though all this racket seemed to have caused the ba.s.s to cease taking hold for some time. By skirting the more distant sh.o.r.es, close to where the water gra.s.s and reeds grew, they finally struck a good ground, and were amply rewarded for the efforts put forth.

"I think the ba.s.s must have their beds on this shoal here," said Tom, when they paddled back over the place at which success had come to them. "It's early in the season as yet, and a lot of them are still around here. They haven't gone out into deep water with their newly-hatched young ones."

"Is that what they do?" asked Felix, who was not as much of a fisherman as either of his chums.

"Well, not immediately after the eggs hatch," Tom told him. "The mother ba.s.s is going to keep her swarm of little ones in shallow water, and guard them until they get to a certain size. Then she darts in among them, scatters the whole lot, after which she is done with them. They have reached an age when they must take their chances."

When finally about noon the three came ash.o.r.e, rather stiff from having straddled that log for such a length of time, they had a pretty fine string of fish, two of them in fact.

The talk as they ate their mid-day meal was along the subject of deer hunting, and Tom as well as Josh had to tell all about it, as far as they knew.

Stanley declared he had made good use of his camera, and hoped the results would come up to expectations. All of them united in saying that it had been an adventure worth while; and apparently their sympathies were wholly with the gallant buck, for they expressed a fervent hope that he would succeed in outrunning his canine enemies.

Somehow in the course of the conversation mention was made of Tony Pollock and his crowd.

"I heard Tony tell a story of having seen a deer pulled down somewhere in the forest last fall by a pack of ugly dogs," related George Cooper.

"At the time I believed he was only yarning, though he vowed black and blue it was so. He said the dogs looked and acted so ugly that he thought it best to clear out before they turned on him."

"Like as not this same pack," remarked Tom. "They say that once a dog has taken to that savage sort of life nothing can ever coax him to go back to living with mankind again. It's in the blood, that call of the wild."

"Well," chuckled Josh, "we know of another kind of call of the wild that's going to be heard in the land pretty soon, when Farmer Sile Perkins faces Tony. He will demand double pay for the chickens Tony and his crowd stole, on penalty of his being arrested if he doesn't whack up. Oh I can just see Tony begin to crawl then; and I wonder how he'll get the money."

Carl was saying little or nothing, and Tom knew why. Here they had been on the hike several days, and as yet there had arisen not a single chance for him to get in touch with Dock Phillips.

Tom understood that another spell of dark foreboding was beginning to enfold his chum. At the first opportunity he could find, Tom joined Carl. The latter had thrown himself down on the bank some distance away from the camp, where he could be in the shade, and yet look out on the sunlit water, which just then had a most attractive aspect.

"You're worrying again because nothing has happened as we hoped would be the case, eh, Carl?" was what the patrol leader said as he dropped down close to the moody scout.

Carl sighed heavily.

"Perhaps it's foolish of me, Tom," he said, with a curious little break in his voice, which he tried hard to master; "but once in so often it seems as if something gripped me, and made me s.h.i.+ver. It's when I get to thinking what little real progress I am making that this chilly spell comes along."

"Yes, I can understand that," the other told him. "I did hope we might run on Dock while we were up here, and either force or coax him to tell what he did with the stolen paper. He's away from the influence of Mr.

Culpepper, you know, and if we had to come down to offering him a price to get the paper he might accept."

"Oh! much as I hate to have to compromise such a thing," said Carl, desperately; "I believe I'd do it. Anything to get that paper, for the more I think of it the stronger I believe it means everything to my mother."

"Well, we haven't quite got to the end of our tether yet," the patrol leader a.s.sured him. "I can't explain it, but somehow there's a feeling inside of me that tells me to keep on hoping. In some sort of fas.h.i.+on luck is going to turn your way. Just keep up your grit, and hang on.

Take a lesson from the persistence of those dogs in following the deer."

"Yes, I suppose I ought to. I've read how wolves will keep chasing after a deer day and night, steady as dock-work, until in the end they tire it out and get their dinner."

Just then they heard a shout, or what was closer to a shriek. It came from beyond the camp, and was immediately followed by cries of alarm from the other scouts.

"What's happened?" asked Tom, as with Carl he hurried to the spot to see a group approaching bearing some burden in their midst.

"Walt Dougla.s.s fell out of a tree," replied Billy b.u.t.ton, looking very pale; "and Mr. Witherspoon says he's afraid it means a fractured leg, if nothing worse!"

CHAPTER XX

FIRST AID TO THE INJURED

Dismay seized upon most of the scouts upon realizing what a disaster had fallen upon them. Tom however was not the one to forget that he had made a special study of "first aid to the injured," as had also Rob Shaefer.

"Carry him over here, where we'll make a soft bed of the blankets, and then we've got to see how badly he's hurt!" was what Tom called out, hurrying on ahead to arrange things.

His example seemed contagious. Boys are apt to follow a leader very much as sheep will a bell-wether. Everybody wanted to a.s.sist; and the feeling of panic gave way to one of confidence. Scouts should be equal to any sudden emergency; and in that way prove the value of their education along the lines of usefulness.

Walter was groaning dismally, although trying his best to bear the pain. He looked as white as a sheet in the face. Tom's first act was to force himself to appear cheerful; he knew that if all of them stared and shuddered it would have a bad effect on the injured lad.

When they had made an examination Tom and Rob agreed that one of the bones only had been broken.

"It's a painful thing, but not nearly so bad as a compound fracture would be," Tom announced. "I think we can set it all right, temporarily, and then bind the leg up. In the meantime, Mr.

Witherspoon, please make up your mind what we'd better do about getting Walter home in a hurry, where the doctor can take charge of him."

"I hope you won't think of giving up your hike just on account of me, fellows," said the poor Walter, weakly, showing a magnanimous spirit in adversity that made his chums feel all the more admiration for him.

"Leave that to me," Mr. Witherspoon announced; "I remember seeing an old car in the yard of that house we pa.s.sed some three miles back. If you boys can make some sort of stretcher for carrying Walter I'll see that he gets home to-day, if I have to accompany him, and then come back again to you."

This cheered the stricken lad as nothing else could have done. Home just then had a most alluring look to Walter. The woods may seem all very delightful when a boy is perfectly well, but let sickness or an accident put him on his back, and there is nothing like one's own home.

After making some preparations, Tom and Rob announced that they were ready.

"It's going to hurt you some, Walter," said the patrol leader, regretfully; "but it's got to be done, you know. Those two ends of the bone must be brought together, and after that we intend to bandage your leg the very best we know how."