CHAPTER IX.

THE MEAN TRICK OF THE TIMBER CRUISERS.

"A land-slide!" exclaimed Giraffe, as he sat up, and began twisting his long neck around, as though doubtful whether he should dodge to the right or to the left, since it was difficult to locate the direction from whence the furious racket seemed to come.

"Better say an earthquake!" Step Hen managed to articulate, though he was shaking all over, with the excitement, that he would hardly have recognized his own voice. "I c'n feel the old ground shake! Listen, would you, to that smash! Must be volcanoes around here."

"Keep still, and listen," said Thad, in that tone of authority which both the talkers recognized as belonging to the scoutmaster, rather than their Chum Thad.

So they held their tongues, and strained their ears to listen.

There was no trouble in hearing, for the racket still kept up. There were heavy thuds, crashes, and a breaking of bushes. No wonder the scouts were mystified. No wonder one thought it a land-slide, while another believed some supposed extinct volcano had burst into action again, and that the rain of stones that followed, produced these weird sounds.

All at once the racket stopped, just as suddenly as though a command had been given to "cease firing."

"Well, I declare, if that ain't funny, now," remarked Step Hen, but because of the order for silence which Thad had issued, he dared not breathe a word above a whisper.

"Hark!" said Allan.

Surely that sounded like a hoarse laugh. The boys crouched there, and strained their ears to hear more. Once or twice they thought they caught vague sounds. It was as if some one might be moving along the rocky elevation that formed one side of the near-by little basin in which they had made their small fire, and finished their once interrupted supper. But the sounds were moving further away, as though the unknown parties might be retreating.

Then silence, deep and profound, brooded over the immediate vicinity of the spot where the four startled scouts sat.

"May we talk now, Thad?" asked Giraffe.

"Yes, but let it be in a low voice," replied the patrol leader.

"Jerusalem!" exclaimed Step Hen, just as though he had to let the pent-up steam escape, one way or another, and it took the form of this expression.

"What does it all mean?" asked Step Hen, plainly confused, and unable to clearly grasp the truth.

"I think I know," remarked Thad.

"Then tell us, please," quickly asked Giraffe. "Sounded like a laugh to me."

"Just what it was, too," Thad went on.

"But who'd want to act funny when all that racket was going on, Thad?" continued Giraffe, who seemed unusually thick headed just then, possibly on account of being aroused in such a startling manner.

"The men who made all the row," replied the scoutmaster.

"Men who made the row--great governor! d'ye mean these rowdies, Hank and Pierre?" burst out Giraffe.

"No other," said Thad, positively. "They must have located our little fire in some way, and supposed that we were sleeping close by. So they crept up along the side of that bare ridge, where the stones are so thick, and just started to heave a few dozen down. That's why it sounded like thunder and hail combined."

"The cowards!" hissed Giraffe, whose honest blood seemed to almost boil with indignation; "the sneaks! Afraid to face four boys because they believed we could shoot some, they had to crawl around to the back door, and play a trick that you'd think would be about the size of the meanest boy in our home town of Cranford, Brose Griffin."

"They laughed over it, too," burst out Step Hen, almost as angry as his long-legged chum, "and that shows what kind of fellows they are."

"Altogether, it was a lucky escape for us," remarked Allan.

"That's what," added Giraffe. "And we owe a heap to Thad's long head. Never sleep where you eat--that was a pretty good rule for the old hunter to have, when painted Injuns were all around him. And by George! it seems to be all right, even in these modern days."

"Wow! just think what a time we'd a had," observed Step Hen, "if we'd been sleepin' there just as sweetly as--as the babes in the woods, and all of a sudden them rocks began to smash around us. I can just see the whole blessed outfit scrambling in the dark, trying to get behind trees, and yet not knowing which side of the trunk was the safe side."

Step Hen actually chuckled a little, as though a gleam of humor had begun to light up the serious nature of the situation.

"It was a game just in keeping with such a precious pair of rascals," declared Thad. "They might have injured some of us badly; and that was just what they hoped to do."

"Perhaps killed us in the bargain," Allan added. "Some of the rocks they heaved into that little basin were just fierce. They came down like cannon balls. It was like what Rip Van Winkle heard, when the little old men of the Catskills were playing ten pins with big rocks."

"But Thad," remarked Giraffe, "when they get to thinking it over, don't you reckon now they'll guess they didn't do any damage?"

"Just what was in my mind," replied the leader of the patrol. "They must know that even men would have yelled, and shown all sorts of excitement, when bombarded in that way. But let 'em think what they please. I hope we'll never cross their trail again."

"Second the wish," said Allan.

"That's where I differ with you," declared the aroused Giraffe, "I'd just like to pay the cowards back for that dirty trick; and I will, too, if the chance ever comes along."

"I'm only bothering about one thing," observed Step Hen.

"And what's that?" Thad inquired.

"What if they run across our innocent chum, poor old Bumpus?" Step Hen went on to say, "Why, he's so confiding, and so straight himself, that he couldn't believe wrong of anybody. Why, they'd rob him of his gun, and everything else he had; and then turn him loose like that, in the big timber. Oh! I hope they just don't find Bumpus before we get to him. It would be a shame!"

"Like taking candy from the baby," added Giraffe.

"Well, let's go to sleep again! We can talk it over in the morning," suggested Thad.

"Don't believe I c'n sleep another wink," declared Step Hen.

But in spite of his gloomy prophecy, he did drop off again soon after stretching himself out on the ground, in the softest spot he could find; and knew nothing more until some one shook him. Looking up, Step Hen discovered that the dawn was stealing through the timber, and that Thad bent over him.

The other two were already astir. Giraffe was busying himself, as usual, in getting a little fire underway; for Thad had given it as his opinion that after playing such a dastardly mean trick, Hank and Pierre, the lawless timber cruisers would not feel like venturing over in this quarter again, lest they be greeted with a warm fire from the guns of the boys.

All of the scouts felt more or less chilled, as the early morning air was pretty cool, and consequently the fire proved acceptable.

As they munched their breakfast Thad announced that he had found the trail of Bumpus again. This meant that when they were ready to start out, there would be little delay.

Of course, pretty much all the talk was about the event of the preceding night, and the fortunes of their lost comrade.

"When I shut my eyes," said Giraffe, "I c'n just see that blessed innocent awalkin' through these here woods, awhistlin' for his bear to come out and be shot."

"And I'm wonderin'," remarked Step Hen, "whether Bumpus, if he does run across a cinnamon bear, just through the luck greenhorns seem to have, would climb his tree _first_, and then begin shooting; or just bang away, like he did before, and make for a tree afterwards."

"Oh! well, I guess Bumpus learned his little lesson that time, all right," declared Giraffe, with the superior air of one who had already gotten _his_ bear, and could afford to look down on those not so fortunate.

"He was scared, good and hard," Step Hen went on. "Why, his face looked like pie paste, and his goggle eyes fairly stood out of his head when he couldn't get up in that tree, with the old grizzly a comin' for him, growlin', and champin' his teeth."

Thad only smiled as he heard these remarks that had an undercurrent vein of condescending pity for the tenderfoot chum. If he remembered correctly, Bumpus was not the only frightened scout about the time that wounded grizzly charged the camp. He had plenty of company.

When they had finished eating, the fire was put out; and after that they made for the spot where Thad had found the trail of the lost scout.

It was as plain as day just there, even though some twenty-four hours must have elapsed since the fat and ambitious Nimrod passed that way.

Giraffe and Step Hen were suspicious of the two rascally timber cruisers, and persisted in keeping their eyes constantly on the alert, searching every possible spot for an ambuscade, and holding their guns ready for quick work.

The patrol leader did not attempt to interfere, although he and Allan were of the opinion that the men would not bother trying to look them up. It gave the boys more or less practice, and did no harm.

And so the little bunch of scouts started to once more lift the trail of their missing chum.