CHAPTER XXII.

THE CRIPPLE BUSINESS SEEMS TO BE CONTAGIOUS.

Of course these words from their comrade gave the other three Boy Scouts quite a shock. Giraffe was on his knees by the fire, and he immediately started to crane his neck, twisting his head in every direction. Step Hen very wisely first of all removed the little extra coffee-pot they had brought along, and set it safely on the ground, before scrambling to his feet.

Thad was already hurrying off. Not knowing what Allan meant by being in a "trap" the sagacious scoutmaster made sure to carry his gun along with him. And seeing this, the other two did likewise. In that wonderful country so close to the mountains, there was no telling what sudden necessity might arise for a means of defense.

"Where are you, Allan?" called Thad.

The woods were partly in darkness. It was possible to see the tree trunks, but all else seemed vague. This, of course, was partly caused by the fact of the boys having had their eyes dazzled by the glowing fire. Had they stood there for ten minutes, until used to the semi-gloom, doubtless they could have distinguished objects around them much more readily.

"This way!" came in Allan's voice, and rather close by. "No great hurry, boys; but I've tried to get out myself, and can't turn around so as to reach the spring, and step on it with the other foot."

"Spring!" echoed Giraffe.

"Yes, because I'm held fast in the grip of an old rusty bear trap, that must have been left here last season by the trappers," said Allan.

"Well! what d'ye think about that?" exclaimed Giraffe.

They were now close to where Allan could be seen standing up.

"Are you hurt much, Allan?" demanded Thad, horrified at the idea of the other having a badly-mangled leg.

"Oh! it hurts some, but I guess the old trap must have a pretty weak set of springs, and that's why they purposely left it behind. But if it didn't get a bear, it caught me by the leg, all right."

"Which leg?" demanded Step Hen, quickly; but Thad spoke up before the question could be answered.

"Hadn't we better have some light here to work by, Allan?" he asked.

"I should say it wouldn't be a bad idea, because there are two springs, and they ought to be held down at the same time," the victim of the trap answered.

"How about it, Giraffe?" asked the patrol leader.

"Do you want a torch?" exclaimed the fire builder, eagerly. "Oh! just give me a minute or so, and I'll fix you out quick."

With that he whirled around in his tracks, and started to go back toward the fire, with great bounds, that would have done credit to a leaping deer. When those long "spindle" legs of Giraffe got to working properly, they were capable of covering ground at a tremendous rate. And if he had a few stitches of pain, because of that bad stone bruise, Giraffe paid little attention to it, so engrossed was he in carrying out the order to get a torch.

"I hope you're not hurt much, Allan?" said Thad, solicitously, as he reached the side of his chum, and began feeling for the trap with both hands.

"It isn't as comfortable as it might be," admitted the other, with a nervous little laugh, "and I guess I'll have to join the ranks of the limpers for a few days; but then, think how much worse it might have been, Thad."

"You mean if the trap had been new instead of worn out, Allen?"

"Yes, that's it, with the springs good, and strong enough to hold even a big bear. Whew! I guess I'm some lucky at that. And then, if I didn't have a lot of splendid chums close at hand to help me, I might have a tough time getting out myself; because, you see, they staked the old trap down to the ground, and I just don't seem able to turn far enough to get at the second spring."

"I warrant you've been trying, all right," suggested Thad.

"You just bet I have," chuckled Allan, "for five minutes or so, turning and twisting. You see, I didn't want the rest of you to know how I'd stepped plumb into an old bear trap, hidden under the dead leaves here."

"But of course you couldn't make it?" Thad continued, watching Giraffe waving a blazing brand about his head to induce it to flame up better, as he left the fire, and started toward the others.

"Had to own up at last," admitted Allan, "because it hurt badly every time I tried to turn around. But now it will be all right; for here's Giraffe and his light."

"A good torch she is, too," declared the long scout, coming up just then; "burns just like that fat pine or light wood we had down in North Carolina. My! what an immense trap. It must pinch that leg of yours some, Allan."

"Get around on that side, Step Hen," ordered Thad, "and be sure, once you stand on the spring, not to get off until I give the word; because if you did, it will close the jaws as quick as that, and perhaps do more damage."

"Reckon I understand, Thad," said Step Hen, starting to follow out directions.

"And you, Giraffe, hold the light so both of us can see," continued Thad. "There, steady now. All ready. Step Hen?"

"Sure."

"Then push down hard and steady. There she comes!"

Allan had taken hold of the jaws of the old bear trap, and no sooner did the pressure exerted by the two side springs cease, than he was able to push them wide apart.

He immediately snatched his leg out of the trap, and no sooner had he done so than he rolled over on the ground.

"Oh! my stars!" exclaimed Step Hen, "he's hurt more'n he knows of. What if he's got a broken leg? Wouldn't we be in a nice pickle though?"

"It isn't so bad as that, boys," said Allan, who was feeling of the calf of his leg as he lay on his back, "though it hurts quite some. But help me up, Thad, and we'll get to the fire. By the time I've used my leg a little, and you get some of that magic liniment soaked on the spot, I guess I'll make out, and be able to start when the rest of you do."

Allan was full of pluck. Moreover, he was an unusually hardy boy, for he had always spent a good part of his time outdoors; and there is nothing more calculated to build up a lad's system than that.

He limped some, of course, as he headed toward the fire; but when Allan put those firm lips of his tightly together, nothing of an ordinary character at least, could force him to groan, or even admit that he suffered.

Once by the fire he sat down. Step Hen went on with his simple cooking operations, while Thad, assisted by the ready Giraffe, started to look at the hurt.

"Lucky I had on my leggings," remarked Allan. "With those, and my trouser leg underneath, it made more or less of a bumper. And then again, you know, traps are never made with teeth nowadays, like they used to be. A man told me they found that the old style lacerated the leg of the animal so much, they used to lose a third of their catch; for the fox or the mink or the otter would either pull and squirm till he'd amputated his leg, or else gnaw it off."

"Gnaw it off--ain't you romancing, now, Allan?" asked Giraffe.

"Not at all," replied the other. "Why that's often been done, though trappers are divided in their opinion about it. Some think the animal deliberately gnaws its leg off, ready to make the sacrifice for the sake of liberty. Others say that an animal naturally bites at anything that hurts it; and it's while snapping at the jaws of the trap they keep on tearing at their wounded and broken leg, till it gives way. Anyhow, there are always a number of poor three-legged small animals in the woods where trapping is done. I've seen a red fox that was minus a leg; and I tell you right now, the way he could get over ground was a caution."

While Allan was talking along in this fashion, doling out interesting information, he was rolling up the leg of his trousers, though Thad could see him wince a little as though it gave him pain to do so.

"Only a black and blue place on each side," Allan went on to say, as if surprised not to discover a worse looking wound. "Funny how that could hurt as much as it does."

"Here, let me put on the liniment, and then bind it up," remarked Thad. "You'll find it cooling; and I warrant it's going to help along a lot. These black and blue bruises are always mighty painful. That's where you got the blow, and the blood's already settling there. This stuff will help to keep it moving, for there's witch hazel in it, and that, you know, is really the extract of hamamelis. How's that now?"

"Feels better, yes, fifty per cent better," declared Allan, as the amateur scout surgeon fastened the wet bandage snugly with a couple of safety pins, and started to draw down the leg of the other's trousers, so the outside covering of canvas legging could be replaced.

After this had all been done, Allan got up, and commenced to walk around.

"Sort of trying out myself, you know, boys," he remarked, laughingly, to hide any grimace of pain, his actions might be causing.

"How is it?" asked Thad, sympathetically.

"Better than I expected," the other replied. "Excuse me if I limp around some, boys, but I think it'll let the liniment work in better, to keep it warmed up. Oh! I've a lot to be thankful for, let me tell you. I'm not putting up any sort of kick."

"Well," remarked Thad, with a good-natured smile, "all I can say is, that you fellows are working the family doctor to the limit these days. What with stone bruises, snake bites, and getting caught in bear traps, I'm making a big hole in the stock of salve and liniment I fetched along. I suppose it's going to be my turn next. Perhaps you may have to make a stretcher, and carry me back to camp with a broken leg, or something like that."

"For goodness sake, I hope not," exclaimed Allan. "Just imagine the alarm of the other fellows when a procession of limpers came in sight, carrying another. And with our chum Bumpus an unknown quantity too."

"What if he got lamed up too; wouldn't that just be the limit?" chuckled Giraffe, who often saw humor where no one else did.

"Anyhow," spoke up Step Hen, still busy at the fire, and there was an air of satisfaction in his voice, Giraffe instantly noted, "Allan belongs in _my_ class."

"How's that?" instantly demanded the jealous Giraffe.

"Well! Just use your eyes, and you won't need to ask so many foolish questions. Don't you see how he limps when he puts that old _right_ leg down? Well, it was my right one that got the snake bite. Allan and me make up the right leg brigade. You'll just have to herd by yourself, Giraffe--anyhow till somebody else takes a notion to drop in the fire, or cut his toe with the wood axe, or somethin' like that."

Thad and Allan laughed at the comical way in which the peculiar condition of things was described by Step Hen.

"Well," said the scoutmaster, "let's hope that won't happen. Better Giraffe should stay in a class all by himself to the end of the chapter, than another fellow meet with a serious accident. We've got cripples enough."

"I guess this ends the run of hard luck," declared the Maine boy, still keeping up his movements, although perhaps unconsciously favoring the injured leg, as any one is apt to do under similar conditions.

"Why d'ye say that?" asked Giraffe.

"Oh! you know they always say accidents come in threes," Allan replied, cheerfully. "The women folks in our house used always to believe that, anyhow; and this makes three of us hobbling around. If we were at home now, perhaps we'd be wanting to use crutches; but up here in the woods we just grin and bear it like true scouts."

"Yes," Giraffe went on, "guess you're right about women folks believin' in a broken looking-glass standing for coming trouble, and all such things; though my dad used to say he had all the trouble settle on him in paying for a new mirror. But honest to goodness, fellers, I remember once when my maw, she chanced to drop some dishes, and busted two--what does she do but walks right over to the dresser, gets out a cracked tumbler she must a been keepin' for just such a time to come along; and I give you my word, I nearly took a fit when she just deliberately smashed that down alongside the broken crockery, and I heard her say, says she: 'There! that makes _three_ now!' just as if that ended it."

"Supper's ready," announced Step Hen, when the laughter induced by Giraffe's little story had subsided.

The coffee tasted just as good as ever. Besides, they had some venison, cooked in the hunter's primitive way, each piece having been pierced by a long splinter of wood, the other end being stuck in the ground, so that the meat was close enough to the red coals to cook without burning--too much.

Perhaps at home, with a white table-cloth, silver, cut glass, and all the ordinary "fixings" around them, some of those boys might have viewed the suspicious looks of those half-cooked pieces of meat with more or less hesitation. But appetite ruled here, and every one declared it was "just prime." And if a fellow found that his meat, while scorched on the outside, was nearly raw in the center, why, you know, all good cook's unite in saying game should always be juicy and underdone, rather than dry and overdone--Step Hen had read it in his mother's precious cook-book at home, and boldly said so.

When they were done eating they just lay around talking and resting. It was very comfortable, and neither Giraffe nor Step Hen felt in the least like making any change. But they knew that after a while, when the determined scoutmaster thought they had rested long enough, he would give the order that must once more see them limping along the trail, a band of cripples.

Of course the talk was mostly about Bumpus, and what chances they had of finding him unharmed. For, despite the faith Thad professed to have in the extraordinary good luck of the fat scout, there were times when even his stout heart became a prey to misgivings; and in his mind he saw poor Bumpus being badly treated by those two bullies, the timber cruisers.

Latterly Allan had been selecting several good pieces of wood calculated to burn well, and serve as torches.

When Thad finally gave the word, they prepared to depart. One of the splinters of wood, taken from a near-by tree that must have been riven by a bolt of lightning in the recent storm, was lighted. Then they saw that the camp-fire was carefully put out, after which Allan, bearing the torch, found the trail, and started off.

They kept this up for over an hour. Not one of them murmured, though no doubt their lame legs hurt considerably. But they remembered constantly that they were scouts; and that as such, their ability to stand pain was on trial.

It was the secret hope of every heart, however, that very soon now they might discover signs calculated to tell them they were drawing near the end of their long pursuit of the lost tenderfoot.

The others were glad, therefore, when Old Eagle Eye, as Step Hen persisted in terming Giraffe, suddenly called a halt.

"I guess I've sighted a camp-fire ahead, fellers!" was what he declared.