CHAPTER XXVI.

THE KEEPERS OF THE CAMP.

When Bumpus and Smithy saw their comrades pass away toward the north, leaving the camp in their full charge, they were immediately impressed with a sense of great responsibility.

The stout scout in particular seemed to feel that it was a post of honor to which they had been assigned by the patrol leader. Of course this was partly due to what Thad had told him at the time he picked out the pair to remain behind and take care of their few possessions.

"We've got to be faithful and wide awake, Smithy," Bumpus told his comrade; "for it'd be a terrible calamity if the boys came back here, tired and played out, only to find that the enemy had captured the camp in their absence. And let me tell you, that would reflect on you and me forever and a day afterward. You know that Thad expects every fellow to do his duty. So we'll keep on the watch every minute of the time till they come back again."

Smithy appeared to be duly impressed with the gravity of the occasion. Bumpus of course made sure to carry the only weapon that had been left in their charge; but as it was his gun, and he knew more about handling it than Smithy did, it seemed only right that this should be so. But the other member of the home guard had seen some of the boys who went off arming themselves with stout cudgels, and he thought it wise to imitate their example, though at the same time seriously doubting his ability to make good use of the same, should an emergency arise.

"Yes, what you say is true, Bumpus," he remarked seriously. "The motto of all good scouts is 'Be prepared,' and we must surely live up to it. While I sincerely hope nothing will happen to call for a defense of the camp, still I'm ready to assume my share of the burden in case of necessity."

Now, Smithy always liked to use long words, and his manner was something like that of an important pedagogue; but the boys had learned that under all this surface veneering Smithy was true gold, and, as Giraffe said, "O. K."

He had never been the one to indulge in rough-and-tumble "horse play" while in camp, like Giraffe, Step Hen and Davy, for instance; but on several occasions the others had seen his metal tested, and Smithy had come out with flying colors.

His face might get white when danger impended, but he had the right kind of nerve, and would stand up for another, no matter what threatened. Smithy was exceedingly modest, and always apologizing for his lack of stamina; but Thad knew he was no coward under it all.

The minutes passed slowly as the two boys sat there by the cheery fire. Naturally they kept listening eagerly, half expecting to hear some sudden wild clamor that would announce the discovery of the tramps, and a desperate effort on the part of their chums to make them prisoners.

They remembered that these men were both big fellows, and undoubtedly more or less to be feared, especially when their passions were aroused.

"Don't seem to be anything doing so far," Bumpus remarked, as he poked the fire, and immediately afterward raised his head, as well as his fat neck would allow, the better to listen intently.

"And you'd think they'd had sufficient time to reach the upper end of the island, too?" Smithy went on to say reflectively.

"Oh! well, the real drive only begins then, you see," Bumpus informed him, with rather an important air. "Thad said they meant to strike straight for the place where we landed, and then comb the ground as they came along. I don't just know what he meant by that same word, but it sounds good to me. When you comb a thing you get everything out, even the tangles; and if the tramps are hiding somewhere on the island they'll be found."

"Trust Thad for that," assented Smithy, who had the greatest admiration for and confidence in the scout master.

"What was that moved then?" exclaimed Bumpus, reaching out, and taking hold of his gun with hands that trembled more or less, though at the same time his teeth were grimly set, and his eyes shone with determination. "Sho!" he added, after a half minute of terrible suspense, "look at that, will you, only a sassy little striped chipmunk, after all, frisking around to see if we hadn't spilled some crumbs when we had our breakfast. But I'm afraid he'll be badly disappointed, because there ain't any crumbs when you've only had grits for your morning meal."

After that they sat there for some little time with senses on the alert, waiting for some sign from the chums who had recently left them.

"One thing sure," Bumpus finally remarked, showing what was constantly on his mind; "they've just got to pass by this way sooner or later. Course we'll see 'em then; and so don't be surprised if the brush begins to move over yonder, because it'll be one of our chums."

"But wouldn't it be the proper caper for them to warn us before they show up?" asked Smithy. "They know you've got a gun, and that's always a dangerous toy for a boy to handle, according to my way of thinking. Why, you might imagine they were the tramps, and give them a shot before you saw they were our chums."

"Listen!" said Bumpus, with a broad grin.

There came from amidst the thick brush a peculiar sound that was supposed to resemble the barking of a fox. Of course both guards recognized it as the well-known signal with which members of the Silver Fox Patrol made their presence known to one another when in the forest, or in the darkness of night.

"Answer him, Bumpus," exclaimed Smithy, "because you can do it better than I've ever been able to. There he goes again, and louder than before. It must be Giraffe, I should think. Let him know we hear him, Bumpus."

Accordingly the stout boy did his very best to imitate the sharp little bark of a fox; it did not matter whether red, black or gray, so long as the sound carried out the idea intended.

At that a head arose above a line of brush, and the smiling face of Giraffe was discovered. He made a motion with his hand to indicate that he and his five fellow scouts were headed south.

"No signs of 'em so far, Giraffe?" asked Bumpus, in a cautious tone; and in answer the other shook his head in the negative, after which he once more dropped out of sight, and doubtless moved away on his mission.

The pair by the fire now prepared for quite a long siege. They guessed that it would take the others quite some time to cover the balance of the island, although of course no one in the patrol knew as yet just what the dimensions of their strange prison might be.

"Supposing they run across George and his companion, will they let us know of their good fortune?" Smithy asked, after a while, when nothing came to their ears save the sound of the running river and the cawing of the noisy crow band in the tree tops.

"Why, yes," Bumpus told him, "Thad promised to send the news along if they were successful, and bagged both hoboes. I keep hoping every minute to get the call. You know, Smithy, lots of savage people have a way of sending news by sound, and by smoke, from one station to another. They say in Africa they can get word over hundreds of miles in less'n no time. I'm a great believer in that sort of wireless telegraphy."

"Yes," remarked Smithy, with something approaching humor, at least as near as he ever was known to get to the joking stage, "I've noticed that, when you start to shouting for your supper, because you can make the greatest racket going. But all the same this thing of keeping camp while the rest of the boys are on the move is rather prosy, I think."

"Why, Thad assured me that any kind of a fellow could just push through all that scramble of brush; but it takes a different sort to be trusted with the responsible task of guarding the home base. He begged me not to think it meant any reflection on our abilities, Smithy. Yes, he even called us the hub of the wheel, of which each of the others was only a spoke."

That information rather bolstered up Smithy's drooping spirits for a little while; but the solemn stillness that surrounded them on all sides soon began to make him drowsy again.

He had not secured his customary sleep latterly, and the warmth of the fire assisted in causing his eyes to become heavy.

Bumpus noticed this. Several times he talked to his companion, with the sole idea of keeping Smithy on the alert; but in the end he found that it did not seem to avail to any extent, for the replies he received were inclined to be hazy, as if the brain of the other had begun to yield to that drowsy feeling.

"Oh! well," Bumpus told himself, "what's the use bothering the poor tenderfoot? Smithy isn't used to this, even if he is a pretty good fellow. He's still mamma's darling boy more or less, and not accustomed to roughing it, like the rest of us. He'll learn in time, I reckon. Fortunately there's no danger of _me_ failing to stand the great test. Huh! I've been through the mill, I have, and proven my worth more'n once."

All the same it seemed that despite his brave words Bumpus also felt his eyes growing heavy before long. Once he even aroused with a start, as his head fell forward with a lurch, giving him a little twinge in his neck.

"Here, this won't do, Bumpus Hawtree!" he told himself severely; "you just get busy, and show what a loyal, faithful scout you are. Want Thad to drop in here, and find you sound asleep on your post, do you? Well, that would be a nice pickle, believe me. Smithy is only a poor tenderfoot at best, and not a seasoned veteran. He might be excused, but what would happen to you, tell me that?"

The idea seemed so monstrous that Bumpus immediately scrambled to his feet, although his actions did not seem to interfere at all with the peaceful dreams of the sleeping scout. Smithy still sat there, with his head bowed down on his breast, and no doubt resting under the happy belief that he was once more safe at home, after all this trying flight along the flood-swept valley of the Susquehanna.

Bumpus walked away.

He thought he would feel more wide-awake if he gave that fire the cold shoulder, and exercised his benumbed limbs some. He took his gun, of course, for Bumpus had learned a certain degree of caution through his former experiences; and it turned out to be a most fortunate thing he had that sagacity.

After walking about for a little while Bumpus settled down alongside a tree, and once more allowed himself to think of a number of events connected with the past, as well as his pleasant home, now so far away.

He was aroused by what seemed to be the crackling of a twig. This startled him, because his scout training declared that such a sound must always be accounted exceedingly suggestive.

Bumpus silently arose to his knees, and, gripping his gun tightly in his fat hands, looked all around him. A slight movement caught his attention. It was directly toward the fire that he looked, and what he saw thrilled him through and through.

A man was actually creeping forward on hands and knees, stealing along with a manner suggestive of a cat. Bumpus did not need to note the fact that this party was wearing a blue army overcoat, now muddy, and rather forlorn-looking, to realize that it could be no other than the long-lost Wandering George, the tramp whom they had trailed all the way from far-distant Scranton.

That he had some evil design in approaching the camp so secretly there could be no possible doubt. Smithy was still dozing there, and would fall an easy prey to the scheming tramp, unless some comrade came boldly to the rescue. So Bumpus drew in a long breath, clinched his teeth, and rising to his feet moved forward.