Storm Bound Part 6

Their manner of march was about like this: Elmer went in front, breaking a way, as it might be described, and his was the eye that had to pick the course, avoiding all the difficult drifts as much as possible, though heading into the near-northwest as arranged at the time they laid their plans.

Immediately after him came Toby, puffing like a porpoise at times, being short of breath; and occasionally floundering about when he lost his footing or made a miscalculation.

On his heels George plodded along, looking this way and that, ever ready to call to Elmer did he but discover a moving, dun-colored object that might turn out to be the deer they had missed.

Lil Artha brought up the rear, though with those long waders of his it must have been an easy task for him to have taken the lead, since they seemed particularly adapted for carrying their owner through floods of snow or water. Lil Artha kept his gun ready at all times. If game that had been made to hide because of the coming of Elmer attempted to slink away later on, the tall scout was on hand, ready to take advantage of the first opportunity.

So far nothing had rewarded their vigilance, much to their keen disappointment. That there was game to be found in the forest they did not question; but after such a heavy fall of snow it wisely remained in den or hollow tree, waiting for a change in the weather before venturing forth. Hunger would eventually compel most of the animals that did not hibernate like the bear to issue forth and seek their accustomed food; but they could abstain for days, and meanwhile what was to become of the four scouts?

As they moved along the stillness was disturbed by the noisy cawing of a flock of crows that seemed to be disputing some matter. Often had the boys watched the queer actions of crows when holding what Toby called a "cawcus," as though trying one of their number that had been caught doing something unfair, according to crow laws; but never had they antic.i.p.ated they would begin to observe the noisy black fellows with hungry eyes.

"If it comes to the worst, crow mightn't go so _very_ bad," suggested Lil Artha.

"Well, we haven't got to that point yet, remember!" hastily cried George. "I'm willing to stand for nearly anything, but eating crow is too, too much. What d'ye take us for, Lil Artha; think we're a bunch of defeated politicians, do you, that have to pay an election wager? No crow for me until I'm at the last gasp. Get out, you black rascals;" and he waved his arms in order to make them fly before Lil Artha could conclude to fire his gun.

CHAPTER VI

IN THE FROZEN MARSH

PERHAPS it was just as well that the crows took the alarm, and flew noisily away. If Lil Artha had taken a shot at them and secured one or more, there might have been a peck of trouble, not only for the crows but some of the scouts as well.

They pushed on for some little time after this in silence. Elmer was constantly on the watch for a possible camping spot. He hardly expected they would be as highly favored as on the preceding night; but then, as no storm threatened, this was not absolutely necessary. He antic.i.p.ated that they would be able to put up some sort of barrier to keep the keen wind off, clear a place of snow, and do the best possible with what they found.

"Looks like we might be on the border of a sort of marsh," suggested Lil Artha, as he made an extra effort, and caught up with the plodding leader.

"Yes, I began to notice that about ten minutes ago," replied Elmer.

"I only mention the fact," continued the lanky scout, "because it strikes me that several times when Toby read out long descriptive letters he had from his uncle up here the old gentleman told of getting some of his best views when lying out in a marsh, and watching the little animals play tag, or some game like that, build their nests, and have their sc.r.a.ps. Am I right about that, Elmer?"

"Yes, and I can see what you're hinting at, Lil Artha. You've got an idea this may be that marsh?"

"Correct!" admitted the tall scout.

"And that if we've finally managed to work around, and strike Uncle Caleb's favorite stamping grounds, there's a pretty good chance the cabin can't be a great ways off?" Elmer concluded, while his words brought vigorous nods of approval from the other.

"Wish we could set up a holler that'd reach him!" ventured Lil Artha.

"We might try a few shots and see if they had any result, though I'd rather wait till dark before doing that," the scout master remarked, thoughtfully.

Lil Artha pondered over this for a minute before he made any further remark.

"I reckon you mean you still hope we might run foul of some sort of game that would give us a supper?" he finally observed.

"Well, here's the marsh, and while the snow is deep in most places, we might manage to run across one of their queer little winter houses, you know."

Lil Artha must have been thinking along the same lines as Elmer, if one could judge from the rapidity with which he took the other up.

"You mean muskrats, don't you, Elmer?"

"Just what I do," came the reply. "Beggars mustn't be choosers, they say; and it looks like that, or go hungry to-night, because we haven't got enough stuff on hand for two, much less four."

"I wonder if they are so very bad eating?" mused the tall scout, wistfully; for prejudice is a hard thing to conquer; and habit backed by imagination is responsible for the choice of many a man's food. What appeals tremendously to one may cause another to shrink.

Elmer laughed.

"I've heard many men say they think musquash as good as almost anything to be had in the woods or swamps up north. The Indians always consider them a dainty," he told his chum.

"Oh! yes, but they are also mighty fond of baked dog," remonstrated Lil Artha.

"So would you be, if you'd been brought up that way. Some people can't bear the thought of eating frogs' legs, and yet those same folks will sit down and calmly swallow a dozen oysters or clams on the half sh.e.l.l.

Now, I've always said that the first man who ever gulped down a live oyster had more nerve even than Napoleon. Then, if you only travel around, from China to France, you'll find that things we scorn are called dainties there. Take snails, which bring a high price in Paris markets--have you ever eaten one in all your life?"

"Hold on there, Elmer," exclaimed Lil Artha; "bring on your musquash.

I'm ready to give him a fair trial, and if he tastes good, after this you won't hear me draw the line even at baked dog--or crow. Yes, I've heard of people who say they've made a meal off crow, and liked it. Why, down our way the black rascals live on corn, and I don't see why they shouldn't be eatable, especially when a fellow has nothing else along."

"Then I tell you what our programme should be," the scout master continued, as though this ready admission on the part of the other gun-bearer had settled the question with him; "we'll make up our minds about stopping close by here, and on the border of the marsh. While George and Toby are fixing camp, and beginning to gather wood, the two of us can start out and enter the marsh, keeping within calling distance of each other. If there's anything doing we'll bag some game for our supper to-night. How does that strike you?"

"Tip-top, Elmer, and because the sun is getting pretty low over there in the west we'd better be finding that camp-site in a hurry."

"I think I see as good a place as any right now," the scout master declared, as he pointed straight ahead. "You can glimpse what I mean by looking just past that birch that is bent nearly double with the snow. A dead tree lies on the ground, and I should think it would give us all the wood we'll need to-night. That's the main thing to make sure of."

"And there's a heavy growth in sight, Elmer, that would serve as a windbreak in case it got to blowing great guns before morning, which I don't think will happen though. Shall I tell the other fellows we're at the end of our day's tramp?"

"Yes, because they're both about as tired as can be, and will be glad to hear the news," Elmer replied.

So Lil Artha fell back in order to get in communication with Toby and George, who were plodding along with many a sigh and grunt; for their packs were heavy, and the going rough, with all that deep snow to struggle through.

"Hi! hurry along there, fellows!" he called out; "we're meaning to camp right ahead here. Plenty of wood for a fire, and a windbreak in the bargain."

"Tell us something about the visible grub supply, won't you, Lil Artha?"

asked Toby, beseechingly. "Is there a good grocery around the corner, and does the butcher call for orders every morning, or just three times a week?"

"Oh! you have to go after your fresh meat," laughed the tall scout, "and that's what me'nd Elmer propose doing, leaving you two to fix the camp."

"All right," replied the weary Toby, "just as you say. Anything to oblige; and here's hoping you run up against the best of success. A broiled partridge, or three slices of juicy venison in the fryingpan would about suit my taste."

"They don't grow juicy venison up here, you ought to know, Toby; every kind I ever heard of was as dry as tinder, and had to be cooked with slices of bacon to make it taste just right. But considering that we've made way with the last sc.r.a.p of cured pork I guess we'll take it any old style."

Lil Artha did not think it wise to spring the muskrat idea too suddenly on those unsuspecting fellows. He had a vague idea that should Elmer and himself meet with success, and knock over several of the marsh dwellers with the unenviable name, they might skin them, and let their chums imagine that they were eating squirrel or rabbit or something like that.

Afterwards, when they had set the stamp of approval upon the dish, the truth could come out. Prejudice by then would have been overcome by the knowledge that "musquash," the Indian dish, was all right.

When the little struggling party reached the spot Elmer had selected, and every one had a chance to survey the situation, a unanimous approval of his choice was the result.

"You couldn't have done better if you'd tried," said George.