CHAPTER XVIII

The Boys Encounter “Pep,” Who Promises Them a Bear Hunt

They were just coming out of the dining-room when a tall, very thin man came hurrying in from the street, saw them, and with a loud, “Hello, Doc!” rushed over to shake Uncle Billy’s hand.

“Just heard you were in,” he cried.

The doctor introduced him as the “biggest booster in Bend.” His name, the boys gathered, was Peters, though the doctor called him “Pep,” which was evidently his popular title.

“Well, boys, what do you think of Oregon?” he demanded as soon as he knew they were from the East. “Some State, eh? I’ll say it is. Wait till you see the Jefferson country. Say, want to go on a bear hunt?”

Of course, he had started by asking them what they thought of Oregon, and the boys were all set to make a polite answer, but he never gave them a chance to reply, and ended up instead by asking if they wanted to go on a bear hunt!

“Sure we do!” the boys chorused.

(“He’s a queer one,” Bennie whispered to Spider. “Answers his own questions half the time.”)

“Pep” was now talking again. “I can fix it up, Doc. Maybe your friend would like to get a movie of a bear. There’s a crowd in camp over at Elk Lake now who want a bear hunt. Some of ’em do, anyhow. We can go over there and pick ’em up, and run over to Newberry Crater and pick up a bear all right. You know old Vreeland, who lives on the big ranch south of La Pine? He’s got a pack of hounds, and plenty of horses, and he’d rather go on a bear hunt than go to Heaven. What do you say?”

“Well, boys, what do _you_ say?” the doctor asked, turning to the scouts and Dumplin’.

Bennie sighed with comical exaggeration. “Oh, of course, I’ll go if you want to,” he answered. “I strive to please.”

Everybody laughed except Spider. “Are you going to kill the bear?” he questioned.

“No, indeed,” said Pep. “We catch ’em by the tail out here in Oregon, and then tie a blue ribbon round their necks, so they’ll look prettier as they gambol through the woods.”

Spider bit his lip as if he was angry, and was trying not to make a rude reply.

“That’s all right, too,” he finally said, “but some folks like to kill wild animals and some folks don’t. I’m one of the ones who doesn’t. Bears don’t do any harm. I’d like to see one, and see Mr. Stone get a picture of it. Hunting with a camera is harder, and better sport, I think.”

“I’ll say it’ll be hard, all right,” said Pep. “Wait till you see the stuff you’ll have to carry your camera through! As for the shooting, Newberry Crater is a State bird and game refuge, and you have to get permission to hunt bears on it; but I’ve got that O. K., because they want the bears killed off. All they ask is that you report the stomach contents.”

“I’ve just got something new I’ve not shown any of you yet,” Mr. Stone now put in. “It was waiting for me here, in my mail. It’s a movie camera no bigger than a kodak, which works with a spring instead of a crank, and takes twenty-five feet at a time. I can carry it in the pocket of a hunting coat. It’s for just such a time as this, when the big camera couldn’t be taken along. I’d like to try it—that is, if you can guarantee the bear.”

“What’ll happen to me if I don’t produce the bear?” Pep demanded.

“We’ll take your horse, and make you walk home,” the doctor said.

“Easy! It’s only thirty miles! Shall we start tomorrow morning?”

“Sure. I guess we can stow you into our cars somewhere.”

“Stow me nothing! I got a car of my own. It’s a dandy, too—a genuine antique, built in 1909. They made regular cars in those days. Well, you be ready at eight o’clock. I’ll be around for you, and lead the way.”

“But we haven’t any guns,” said Bennie, suddenly.

“Don’t matter. Vreeland has plenty. Don’t need more’n one, anyhow, to kill a bear. So long.”

Pep departed, striding with his long legs out of the lobby.

“He’s a queer one,” said Mr. Stone. “What does he do for a living?”

“Real estate, I guess,” the doctor answered. “He’s a great booster for Bend, and spends half his time fixing up parties for visitors who come here. He’s a great card. Well, boys, I suppose you’re going to the movies now?”

“I can see the movies without coming 4,000 miles,” Bennie answered. “Me for a look around this burg.”

“Me, too,” said Spider. “Doug Fairbanks won’t seem such a wonder after we’ve climbed old Llao Rock.”

“Boys,” cried Uncle Billy, “you have not come to Oregon in vain!”