CHAPTER X.

WAS THE MYSTERY SOLVED?

“Oh! joy! joy!” cried Giraffe, upon hearing this great news.

“Thad, we all look on you as a public benefactor!” Bob White chipped in; though thus far he had said very little about the annoyance the strange odor was causing them; because he was a boy of few words as a rule; and then again, he had not been compelled to remain in the same boat, or sleep under the same canvas as the scout on whose soiled garments suspicion had fallen.

“The best news I’ve heard in many a long day!” declared Smithy.

“Now!” was all Davy Jones gave utterance to, but the word was uttered with what seemed to be almost savage satisfaction; and his eyes at the time were turned full on poor Bumpus, who of course squirmed uneasily in his seat by the fire, where he was fixing the coffee, and looked unhappy, as well as anxious.

“Please go on and tell us, Mr. Scout-master!” called out Step Hen; “if this old stuffy cold in the head I’ve got from Bumpus has kept me from having the pleasure of enjoying the mystery with you all, I’ve sure heard enough grunting and complaining to excite my curiosity to the limit. What’s the answer?”

“Gather around, then,” said Thad; and they began to form a circle; “here, we want you too, Bumpus, so leave your coffee-making, while you listen, and give your vote; for if the majority decides I’m right, we won’t be bothered any more with an unpleasant neighbor.”

“Say, I hope you don’t mean to kill him?” remarked Davy, pretending to shoot a glance of brotherly commiseration in the direction of the fat scout; “or chase him out of the camp to herd by himself.”

But somehow Bumpus had taken new courage from what he heard Thad remark, and as he came shuffling up with the rest, he was saying to himself:

“Huh! think you’re smart, don’t you, Davy Jones, but just wait. Who’s afraid, anyway?”

“All here, Thad!” sang out Allan, impatiently.

“And waiting to hear the explanation of the mystery that’s been bothering the whole patrol—leastwise, all but Bumpus and Step Hen, who ain’t any good just now at ferreting out things, because they do nothing but blow, blow all day long,” and Giraffe loomed head and shoulders above the rest of his mates as he faced Thad.

“Well, I’m going to pass it along now, and I want every one to take a good whiff, after which he is to give his opinion whether this is the offending package or not.”

Saying this the scout-master picked up a stout paper bag that had been lying at his feet, the top tied with a string, and handed it solemnly to Giraffe, who happened to be his next neighbor on the right.

“Our fine onions!” gasped Step Hen, as he recognized the shape of the bag.

Giraffe held the package up close to his nose, and seemed to draw in a long breath, after which he gave utterance to the one expressive word:

“Je_ru_salem!”

“What do you say, Giraffe?” demanded the patrol leader, grimly, “guilty or not guilty?”

The elongated scout immediately wagged his head vigorously in the affirmative.

“About the same class of odor that’s been bothering us right along, Thad, sure it is; and I just reckon you’ve been and run our trouble down. Them onions are getting old and soft, and everybody knows how rank they are when that happens. Whew! who’s next?”

“Pass it along!” demanded Bob White at his right shoulder; “I’m a good judge of onions, and I’ll soon settle this thing for you all.”

He too held the offending bag up near his nose; it hardly needed words to tell what his verdict was, for his face became screwed up in a manner that could only stand for condemnation.

“Giraffe, I’m with you!” he observed, as he hastened to give the bag to Smithy, next in line.

And so it went the rounds, even the grinning Bumpus being allowed to have his chance at declaring what he thought.

“Well, I should say it _was_ bad,” the fat boy remarked, as he held it close, and kept sniffing away vigorously. “If that’s the stuff I don’t wonder you fellows kept kicking up such a row about it. But it was mean to pick on me for nothing. I tell you these old clothes ain’t so _very_ tough after all. Maybe you’ll get down on your ham-bones now, and tell me how sorry you all are. Maybe you’ll be begging me to let you come back in the boat with you, Giraffe; but don’t bother, because I’m agoing to stick with Thad. He never took a mean advantage of me like some or the rest did, just because I’m little and can’t stand up for myself. Huh! who’s so smart now, tell me?”

Giraffe and Davy answered him not a word. No doubt, just then they really felt humiliated, as though conscience stricken, in that they had accused and condemned poor Bumpus without a hearing.

“But what’s going to be done about it?” asked Smithy. “We surely can’t think of carrying those offensive onions along with us any more, after all the trouble they’ve gone and made for us.”

“Course not, they’ve just got to go!” declared Davy, positively.

Giraffe looked unhappy.

“And me so fond of fried onions I always said I’d never be caught camping without some along,” he whimpered, mournfully.

“But you’re the one that made the biggest fuss of the whole lot!” cried Bumpus; “why, you even made _me_ nervous, and I was afraid my fighting blood would be worked up soon, if things kept on like they were. Sure you couldn’t vote to keep the old things, after Thad’s found out what they stand for?”

“I s’pose not, boys,” replied the tall scout, sadly; “we’ll have to do without the appetizing onion after this; but it’s going to be hard on me. My appetite’ll fall away, and you’ll see me getting thinner and thinner every day.”

“Well, we can use you for a bread knife then,” remarked Bumpus, composedly; “because if you grew much sharper than you are, that’s about the only thing you’d be good for. But if them onions smell so rank, what’s the use of throwing the same away, when we’ll be apt to know they’re around all night. They ought to be put underground, don’t you think, Thad?”

“That’s a good idea, Bumpus; give me the camp hatchet, and I’ll dig a grave over here, so we can have a regular burial. Form in line, fellows, for the ceremony.”

Entering into the spirit of the occasion the whole eight scouts formed into a procession, and with Thad in the lead, bearing the hatchet in one hand, and the condemned bag of soft onions in the other, held as far away from his nose as possible, they started to walk solemnly along, heading for a spot that the leader had picked out as suitable for the ceremony of burial.

And as they thus stalked along the boys began to chant in unison that old song: “John Brown’s body lies amouldering in the grave, as we go marching on!”

And so, with the hatchet a hole was speedily excavated, and the offending object placed therein; after which the earth was hastily scraped over, until six inches of soil rested upon the bag.

“There, that’s what I call a good job!” remarked Giraffe, with a relieved look on his face, as they started back to where the fire burned merrily. “It’ll seem like another world, now that we won’t have to keep sniffing around all the time.”

“Yes, and saying all sorts of mean things about my bully old suit that’s stood by me through thick and thin, until I’ve just come to love the same!” Bumpus up and told the chief offender.

“Oh! well, let it go at that, Bumpus,” muttered the tall scout. “A fellow is apt to get on the wrong trail once in a while, you know; even Thad here will do that same. We thought we was right, and acted accordingly. And now we’ll give you a little rest, though we’d all be glad if you did make up your mind to change that greasy old suit for your spic and span clean one. Guess you’ll take a notion that way some fine day, won’t you?”

“Huh! keep on guessing!” grunted Bumpus; though he appeared to be wearing a perpetual grin, now that his innocence seemed to have been so amply proven.

After this little incident preparations for passing the night were continued, the tents being raised, and the fire encouraged to reach that stage where Giraffe and his assistant might have all the red coals needed in order to properly carry out the cooking operations as usual.

Davy was wandering around, still eying Bumpus suspiciously, as though not wholly satisfied in his mind that all the trouble was over; but the fat scout had been vindicated at the hands of Thad, so what cared he if Davy chose to show his poor judgment, when everybody else seemed satisfied.

Once Davy even wandered over to where the burial of the onions had taken place, and with his foot scraped even more soil over the spot, as though he wanted to be doubly sure they had confined everything in that hole.

When the supper was finally ready it was a merry group that squatted around, for Giraffe always felt particularly joyous when about to satisfy his acute hunger, and on this particular occasion he believed he had a double reason to rejoice, in that the food supply was bounteous, and a baffling mystery had been solved, so there would be no further reason for his keeping awake nights, trying to guess the answer, and making things unpleasant for poor Bumpus.

They chattered about nearly everything under the sun, as they sat there munching away at the repast; which consisted of breakfast bacon (as they had come to term the real stuff, since plain salt pork is called “bacon” in the South) fried potatoes, with just one onion cut up in the same, to give a flavor, and which Giraffe had saved from the wreck before the explosion came; some toast made from the last loaf of bread they had along; cheese for those who liked it; some pork chops; and last but not least, the usual coffee that did not seem to keep anybody awake, though a number were not in the habit of drinking it save at breakfast when at home; but then lots of things are done with impunity in camp that no one dares think of when under his own roof-tree.

“And after this, sweet balmy sleep!” said Smithy, who was somewhat given to spouting poetry, and showing a spirit of romance.

“Yes,” added Giraffe, “and we’re all of us tired enough to enjoy a good eight hour snooze, unless Thad wants us to keep watch and watch, which I hope he won’t.”

“And I do hope,” remarked Bumpus, sweetly, “that I’ll be able to crawl into my bully old blanket and hit the straw, without hearing any coarse remarks about it’s being time old suits of khaki that have stood the wear of time were called in!”