CHAPTER XXIII.

A FLANK MOVEMENT.

“I should say Sebattis _did_ hit something!” declared Giraffe, staring hard at the tell-tale spot in the footprint.

“But it wasn’t Charlie that got hurt,” remarked Davy, evidently alive to the fact that the track which showed the trace of blood did not have any cross line, showing where the sole had been patched.

“No, it was the other fellow,” observed Thad. “Where was he hit, Sebattis?”

“Left leg, not much, but bleed heap,” and the Indian pointed to several other significant spots as he moved along the trail.

“Now how under the sun could he tell it was the left leg?” asked Step Hen, evidently deeply puzzled to account for the positive manner in which the guide made this assertion.

“Oh! that would be easy enough,” remarked the patrol leader. “Just stop, and you’ll remember that each foot makes a different track. This one is the left foot. And now you’ll be quick to think, even if you don’t say it, that perhaps that drop could have fallen from the right foot as it was raised, into the track of the left foot. Sebattis has other ways to prove what he says. Show them, chief, won’t you; because they want to learn all they can.”

“Huh! look this way, see how,” replied the dark-faced guide, leading the several eager scouts to where he knew an extra-plain print of the foot in question might be found.

Then he pointed out the difference between the mark of the right from the left foot, and showed them that there was a heavier trail where that same right shoe happened to be planted.

“You understand?” remarked Thad, who was following all this with considerable interest himself, for he, too, had more or less to learn.

“Seems to me he means that if a feller happened to get hurt, sudden like, in his left leg, he’d begin to limp,” Giraffe spoke up, eagerly.

“And when he limped,” Step Hen went on to add, “it stands to reason the print of the foot on the leg he wanted to favor wouldn’t be near so plain as the other. Why ain’t that the easiest thing you ever heard tell of?”

“Sure it is,” Davy Jones insinuated; “and after Columbus showed those Spanish grandees how to stand an egg up on end by punching the top down on the table, why, didn’t they think that was the silliest thing ever? Oh! it’s just as simple as turnin’ over your hand—after another feller has been and told you how.”

“All the same, it is easy,” Thad went on to say, “and next time, perhaps some of you will be able to figure things out yourselves. That’s what scouts ought to do every time. That’s the best part of the Boy Scout movement, General Baden-Powell says; it makes boys stop depending on other people, when they can just as well look out for themselves.”

“Will these hoboes haul off now, do you expect, Thad, and give the cabin a wide berth?” asked Bumpus.

“Well, it begins to look as though they ought to steer clear of it, as long as we’re in possession,” the patrol leader replied. “Still, you can never tell. By now they must be feeling pretty ugly toward us; and when such men have a grudge pushing them on, it’s hard to say what they wouldn’t do.”

“Ketch me agoin’ to sleep then,” remarked Bumpus; but even while he was making this brave remark, with one of his hands he was trying to suppress a great yawn.

“Oh! I don’t suppose there will be as much danger as that,” Thad continued, not wishing to alarm his chums unnecessarily. “The guides will divide up the balance of the night into three watches; and if we like, one of us can keep company; in fact,” he went on in haste, fearing that Bumpus might, in the goodness of his heart, volunteer his services, which it would be hard to decline, “I’ll appoint Allan here as one of the assistants, to help out Jim; while Giraffe can stay up with Eli; and I’ll share the watch of Sebattis, because I want to have a little whispered talk with him as we sit alone.”

So it was arranged. Bumpus made out to feel a little hurt that he had been overlooked in the distribution; but Davy showed him that both he and Step Hen were in the same boat.

“Besides,” he added as a clincher, “you know you haven’t got any gun, Bumpus; and don’t know much about firearms anyway.”

“Don’t you forget it,” remarked the stout scout earnestly; “I’m just determined to know more about ’em right along, after this. The Boy Scouts may stand for peace, all right; but I c’n see right now that the feller that’s able to look out for himself is just the one that never gets trampled on. Be prepared to defend yourself, and chances are you’ll never be called on to do a blessed thing. Oh! I’m on to a few dodges. I ain’t so much asleep as some of you think. Wait till we go off on our trip across the Continent, with the money we’re going to rake in for recovering this stuff, an’ capturin’ the thieves; mebbe I’ll show you a thing or two then.”

“He’s got a programme all laid out, I do believe,” ventured Step Hen, afterward to Giraffe; “and expects to take lessons in shooting, and all sorts of stunts, once we get back to Cranford. But it’ll be the making of Bumpus if he does wake up and do all kinds of things. He’ll quit bein’ so fat then, and make muscle instead. And for one, I hope he carries it out.”

The entire party went back to the cabin. Here arrangements for the balance of the night were concluded, and the first pair sent out to take their places as sentries.

Bumpus had declared that he would not sleep a wink; but once he lay down, he really knew nothing more until he felt some one tugging at his sleeve.

“Is it my turn to be on guard? All right, I’ll be up right away!” he exclaimed, and then began to sniff the air. “Say, what’s all this mean; are you goin’ to eat breakfast in the middle of the night?”

“Go over to the door, and look out,” laughed Thad. “You’ll think it still funnier to see the silly old sun poking his face up at such a time; but he’s gone and done it, all the same.”

“Blessed if I ain’t slept the whole night,” muttered Bumpus, not knowing whether to be pleased because he had obtained such a refreshing sleep, or miffed on account of having been neglected when there was “a call for all brave men and true.” Finally he concluded that what was done could not be undone; and besides, that venison did smell mighty appetizing. So he folded up his blanket, and went outdoors to chase the last remnant of drowsiness from his eyes by a dash of icy water.

There was no haste, for they did not mean to leave their present comfortable quarters until about the middle of the morning. This had been decided on as the best policy to be pursued; since they hoped that their actions would be observed by those in whom they were so deeply interested.

By degrees they started to pack their belongings, and stow them away in their regular places; for each canoe had its own complement, the object being to divide the many things besides tents which they carried, so that the boats might be about equally loaded.

It is no easy task to paddle a heavily charged canoe up against a strong current, hour after hour. Muscles hardened by constant use are needed to accomplish such a feat successfully without great fatigue. The scouts knew this now, if they had not been so wise before; for at sundry times each of them had been given opportunities to wield the spruce paddle, and battle with the swift current.

It was in the neighborhood of ten o’clock that the last thing was stowed; and after looking all around to make sure that nothing had been forgotten, the patrol leader gave the signal to depart.

Bumpus did not have his bugle along on this expedition. He had wanted to carry it, being a clever musician, and quite fond of practicing the many fine calls whereby scouts may regulate their going to bed, rising in the morning, assembling for meals, and other things. But Thad and Allan had shown him the folly of sounding a bugle in the Maine woods, where, as hunters, they were expected to keep as still as possible, so that the big game they hoped to secure might not take the alarm, and flee wildly from the vicinity of such weird sounds.

But Bumpus, not to be entirely undone, placed his hand to his mouth, and managed to give a pretty good imitation of the bugle call; though he subsided suddenly when he saw the patrol leader frowning at him.

So they left the spot where so many interesting, as well as exciting, events had come to visit them. And they carried away quite a few things besides the memories that would always haunt them. There was the honey, for instance, fastened up in every possible receptacle that could hold it securely; then they had some bear meat that would do to chop up into hash; the fine skin that Giraffe meant to have made into a rug for the floor of his den at home; and last but far from least, that precious packet so carefully tied up and sealed, containing the plunder which some bank must have lost a year or more back.

This, of course, had been carefully hidden, so that even though the hoboes were secretly watching their departure, they could hardly guess that the scouts were carrying off their ill-gotten loot.

Gaily they paddled against the current. Although they were warned not to seem to stare around in too curious a fashion, most of the boys were really watching the shore as they bucked up against the stream. And a short time after they had quite lost sight of the cabin and landing, Giraffe quietly informed Thad, who was close by, that he was pretty positive he had seen a man peering out at them from a clump of bushes along the river bank. He had not mentioned the fact at the time, because he said he was afraid one of the “tenderfeet,” meaning possibly Bumpus and Step Hen, might betray themselves by appearing too curious, and thus bring a shot from the shore.

On they pushed until fully a mile had been covered. Thad allowed the boys to emit an occasional shout, meaning that it should be carried back to the ears of the man on the shore, and by gradually growing fainter and fainter, convince him that the party had really gone for good.

“There’s the very place where we want to land,” said Thad, after a little more time had elapsed. “Plenty of rushes growing along the bank, where we can hide the canoes, and leave two to guard them, which will be Jim, and Bumpus here. The rest of us ought to be enough to do the business, if we manage to surprise the hobo crowd.”

Hearing what his fate was to be Bumpus groaned; but remembering what a scout must promise to do when given an order by one in authority, he shut his teeth hard, and doubtless determined that the next time he would have a gun, and then they must consider that he had rights, as well as the remainder of the party.

Once in the rushes the landing was made. It proved to be a splendid place for slipping away without showing themselves, for the woods grew unusually thick just alongside, and the sun happened to be hidden by clouds at the time, which was near noon.

And this was the way Thad led his company back toward the lone cabin, with himself and Sebattis in the lead, then Davy and Giraffe; and old Eli, in conjunction with Step Hen and Allan, bringing up the rear,—seven in all.