CHAPTER XV.

THROUGH THE BIG TIMBER AGAIN.

That night the boys feasted.

After being without fresh meat for some little time now, that venison certainly did taste prime. And no doubt it was doubly sweet to Step Hen, who had made the best shot of his life when he brought the game down.

At least they need no longer think of being compelled to return to the camp near the foot of the noisy rapids, on account of a lack of food. They could go a number of days, subsisting on the new supply that had stocked up their almost exhausted larder so handsomely.

But there was a weight resting on all of them. They talked some, but most of the time after supper they sat there, looking into the comfortable blaze, and busy with their thoughts.

What these were, as a rule, might be gathered from a remark made by Step Hen.

"It was a good supper, all right, and that deer meat went just prime. Only wish _he's_ got as good to-night."

And no one asked him who he meant. No doubt every one of the four around the fire had Bumpus in mind right then and there.

"And we're going to keep this fire burning through the live-long night, too," said Thad, later on, when there was some talk of going to sleep.

"Regardless of Hank and Pierre, eh?" asked Giraffe, his eyes brightening; for he never liked to see a camp-fire go out; it was always as solemn a ceremony in his mind as the passing of a dear friend would be.

"Oh! like as not they're miles and miles away from here," Thad went on to say. "And anyhow, one of us at a time will be on guard all night. If he hears a shot or a distant shout be sure to call me up, whoever he may be."

And that, then, was the programme laid down. They would do everything in their power to attract the attention of the wandering Bumpus, in case he happened to be anywhere in the neighborhood.

But it was all of no avail.

Doubtless one or the other of the scouts, when standing his turn as sentry, may have fancied he heard far-away hails, because the wish was father to the thought; but upon listening, to make doubly sure before arousing the others, it had invariably turned out that the sound was an owl calling to his mate in the depth of the big timber, or the strange cry of the night hawk abroad seeking food.

But all the live-long night that watch-fire continued to burn, although without any result.

The boys went about their duties in the morning, a little crestfallen; and yet they had no reason to reproach themselves, having done everything in their power to win success.

As they ate breakfast they tried to lay out the day's campaign. Enough of the fresh venison was to be carried along to provide several meals. And as they went, they meant to let out a few shouts at intervals.

Of course they knew that, just as one of them, Giraffe, had said before, it was about as satisfactory as searching for a needle in a haystack. But it was the best they could do. And boys as a rule, are very prone to put considerable confidence in what they call "luck."

After the violent storm there was one good result, at least; the air was as sweet and pure and invigorating as any of them could wish. Indeed, Thad, as he glanced around and above him, when they stopped once that morning to rest, thought he had never seen a lovelier picture. And only for this weight resting so heavily upon his soul, in connection with the fate of the missing tenderfoot, he could have enjoyed it immensely.

The sky was the bluest of the blue, with here and there a fleecy white cloud floating across it. Away up could be seen a pair of eagles sailing in immense circles, and able to look directly into the face of the sun.

Lower down a number of other large birds were floating around, and it looked as though they might be centering over a certain spot. Thad recognized them as buzzards, those scavengers of the wilds that are protected by law in most sections of the country, because of their usefulness in disposing of carrion that might otherwise breed an epidemic of disease.

On one side glimpses could occasionally be had of the lofty mountains, to explore which had been one of the excuses the scouts had for making such a long journey.

Apparently the other boys were also looking around them, for presently Step Hen, pointing with his finger, said:

"What are those birds away up there, Thad?"

"The ones up in the clouds, you mean, I suppose?" asked the other.

"Yes," replied Step Hen.

"That is the majestic eagle, my son," said Giraffe, pompously.

"Majestic humbug," laughed Allan.

"But they represent the American nation," objected Giraffe, "every time the papers get talkin' about trouble with foreign nations they say 'now listen to the eagle scream' don't they?"

"Oh! it can scream, all right, and fight right hard, I admit, when it has to," Allan went on to say, "but all this talk about the eagle being such a _noble_ bird makes me weary. If you'd watched him as often as I have, sitting lazily on the limb of a dead tree, and waiting till some poor, industrious fish hawk makes a haul, so he could rob him, you wouldn't have quite so much respect for the magnificent bird as you do now."

"Huh! p'raps not," grunted Giraffe, looking crestfallen. "Honest to goodness now, I always did think the old feller couldn't live up to his reputation. Guess America had ought to hunt up another emblem besides the eagle."

"But say, them others ain't eagles, I know," spoke up Step Hen.

"No, they are the despised buzzard, that everybody shuns, yet no one kills, for he'd be far worse to eat than crow," said Thad.

"And yet a ten times more useful bird than the eagle, which lives upon its ill-gotten reputation, and as I said before, the labor of the osprey, or fish hawk," Allan went on to remark.

"But see 'em circle around, would you, Thad," Step Hen kept on. "They generally do that, don't they, when they've discovered something worth while?"

Step Hen did not wholly voice the terrible fear that had suddenly gripped his heart in a sickening clutch. There was no need, for every one of the other scouts had a spasm along the same lines.

They looked at each other rather guiltily. An undefined fear was written large upon each paling countenance. Thad, however, was the first to recover.

"You gave me an uneasy minute with the suggestion your words conjured up, Step Hen," he said, firmly; "but I just can't force myself to believe there's anything to it."

"But, Thad----"

"Just hold on, Step Hen," the patrol leader went on to remark, "I understand what you mean, and of course we'll head that way, to make sure it's a deer, or something like that."

None of them cared to pursue the matter any further, as they walked along, keeping one eye aloft to note the position of the buzzards that sailed around and around, constantly dropping lower, and with the other taking stock of their surroundings.

Thad smiled after a while, but he did not take the trouble to communicate what was in his mind to the others.

"They'll know soon enough," he was saying to himself, "let them find it out for themselves."

Allan was the first to make a discovery. He threw a quick, knowing look in the direction of the scoutmaster, who answered with a nod and a smile.

Pretty soon Giraffe began to smell a rat.

"Well, I declare," he remarked, "seems like I've set eyes before on that there queer old tree with the big hump on its trunk. Can't be possible there could be another just like that anywhere this side the Rockies."

No one saying anything, Giraffe went on to remark:

"Yes sir, it's the same identical tree, I'd take my affidavy on that. See here's where I sliced off a bit of the bark with my hatchet, as we went along. Now, ain't that funny, we've made a grand circle ourselves, just like we thought he'd _do_; and crossed our own trail right here."

"Have you any idea where this tree is, Giraffe?" asked Thad, meaning to test the memory of the observing scout.

"Let's see, when was it I noticed the same?" and Giraffe frowned with the effort to whip his memory. "Oh! yes, sure, I recollect it all now. Why, you see Thad, it was just after we'd left that place where Bumpus had hung up that dead cat."

"Wow! there it hangs right now; and yes, as sure as you live, the wind brings us a whiff of it, too!" cried Step Hen. "Say, Thad, was _this_ what the buzzards scented far off, and gathered here to make their dinner off?"

"Just what it was, and they're welcome, for all of me," replied the patrol leader; evidently greatly relieved over something. "But come on, boys, we're going to start on a new track from here, one we haven't been over yet. I'm in hopes we may have the great good luck to learn something about our chum, before we make another grand circuit. My first guess didn't pan out very well."

None of them were sorry to leave the neighborhood of the dead cat, which Bumpus had hung up in the tree, possibly in the hope of sometime claiming its well-riddled pelt.

An hour later they were making their way through a particularly bad stretch of woodland, where the brush was dense in places, and many trees, fallen years upon years ago, forced the scouts to either clamber over, or go around.

Step Hen was just in the act of jumping over the half-rotten trunk of one of these fallen forest monarchs, when the rest heard him give utterance to a loud whoop, immediately followed by words that struck a chill to their very hearts:

"Thad! Allan! come here, quick! I'm snake bit, and I reckon it was a big rattler that grabbed me by the leg!"