CHAPTER XVII

THE TRAMP'S HEADQUARTERS

Frank and Ned began pulling with long steady strokes. The boat with its load was not easy to propel through the water and they knew they could do better by taking it easy than by wasting their strength in useless hurry.

Up the stream they went, past Darewell, under the bridge spanning the stream just above the dock, and so on beyond the outskirts of the town until they were out into the country district surrounding the place. It was a pleasant sunshiny day, just warm enough to be comfortable, and with a little breeze blowing.

"I wish this could go on forever," spoke Fenn, from where he was resting comfortably on the folded tent in the bow of the craft.

"Wait until it comes your turn to row," said Ned.

They reached Riverton, the next town above Darewell about eleven o'clock and hired the canoe, a large green one, but very light to paddle.

"Shall we get dinner here?" asked Bart.

"If we're going to camp let's camp from the start," suggested Fenn. "What's the fun of going to a restaurant for your meals? Anyone can do that, but it isn't everyone who can have theirs in the woods as we can. Let's go up a few miles more and get dinner on shore."

The others decided this would be the most fun, and the trip was resumed with Bart and Fenn at the oars. They made three miles before twelve o'clock and then, finding a shady, level spot near shore, tied the boat, and got out the portable stove.

"Now, Stumpy," said Bart, who had been elected camp manager, "you get the wood. Ned, you dig some worms and catch fish, and Frank and I will get the meal ready."

The little temporary camp was soon a busy place. Fenn had a fire going in the stove in short order as he found plenty of dry wood, and Ned, going up stream, to a quiet spot, in a little while had caught several fish. They were soon cleaned and put on to fry with the bacon. An appetizing odor filled the little glade in the woods and the boys began to sniff hungrily.

"When will they be done?" asked Frank, as Bart bent over the pan.

"About ten minutes. You can make the coffee if you want to. Ned, you open a can of condensed milk and Fenn, you get out the salt and pepper."

"Everything but the salt," announced Fenn a few moments later. "Here's the box but there's none in it."

The others looked surprised and disappointed.

"By Jimminites: I forgot to put it in," he added "I bought all the other things but I left the salt to the last and it slipped my mind."

"That's pleasant," observed Bart grimly. "How are we going to eat fresh fish without salt? Fenn, you're a dandy, you are. Thinking too much of the girls, that's what ails you."

"Anybody might forget," said Stumpy in extenuation.

"Well, there's no help for it, I suppose," remarked Ned.

"Might use gunpowder," put in Frank. "I've read of campers doing that."

"Excuse me," came from Bart, making a wry face. "Besides we haven't any, so that doesn't count."

"There's some one camping on the other side of the river," said Fenn, pointing to where a little column of smoke arose through the trees, about opposite to where the boys were located. "Maybe I could borrow some salt from there."

"Good idea," said Bart. "Take the canoe and paddle over."

Fenn was soon on his way. The others went on with the preparations for dinner pending his return, as the fish were not quite cooked. They watched Fenn paddle over, pull his canoe upon shore, and disappear into the woods. He was gone a few minutes and when he reappeared a man followed him.

"Maybe he wouldn't lend any salt," said Frank.

As the boys watched they saw the man get into the canoe with Fenn, who then paddled over.

"Looks as though he wouldn't trust Stumpy to bring the salt over," commented Bart. "Wonder what the man wants?"

In a short time the canoe containing Fenn and the stranger grounded on the little beach near where the boys were camped.

"Did you get the salt?" asked Ned.

"Yes, we have the salt," replied the man, and then the three boys noticed with surprise he was the same tramp they had met the day they went swimming, and who had inquired about the man the boys knew as the King of Paprica.

"This is the gentleman who was camping on the other side of the river," put in Fenn. "I asked him for some salt and--"

"Allow me to explain," interrupted the tramp, but in a polite tone. "You see it was this way. I am prospecting along the river, and last night my boat, with all my camping outfit, was upset. My food got all wet, and the only thing that didn't get soaked was the box of salt. It happened to be waterproof.

"I was drying out my clothes and other camping things but alas, when I came to dry out the food I found it had spoiled. So there I was, with nothing but salt to eat. I was just thinking of trying for some fish when this young gentleman came along and asked if he could borrow some salt. I at once saw my opportunity. 'Here,' I said, 'are persons with plenty to eat and no salt. Here I am with plenty of salt but nothing to eat. A fair exchange is no robbery.' I at once produced my salt."

"And I at once asked him over to dinner," put in Fenn.

"Why, of course; glad to have you," said Bart. "Frank, put another plate on," he added waving his hand to the ground which served as a table. "Dinner is served," and he laughed, the tramp joining him.

"Happy to meet you all," the ragged man went on, not considering it necessary, it seemed, to mention his name or ask how the boys were called. "There is the salt," and he handed over a large box full.

In spite of his ragged clothes and the heavy growth of beard on his face, the tramp's hands and face were clean and he appeared to have washed his clothes, as, though they were in tatters, they were not dirty.

"Do you intend to camp around here long?" asked Frank.

"I can't tell," replied the tramp. "I am waiting for some friends to join me."

He did not seem to recognize the boys as the ones he had met in the woods recently, or, if he did, he gave no sign of it.

"You said you were prospecting," Ned added. "Not for gold, are you?"

"Hardly," replied the ragged man with a smile. "The truth is I am a naturalist. I have heard there is a certain rare kind of butterfly to be found along this river and I am looking for it. It is called the Oiliander Tinicander. Perhaps you have seen it in your travels."

"Guess we wouldn't know it if we saw it," remarked Ned.

"No, it takes years of study to recognize it. But if you will excuse me I think I will sit down."

He crossed his legs comfortably in front of the plate that had been placed for him, and in a few minutes the dinner was under way. The salt certainly added zest to the fried fish and the boys, as well as the tramp, ate with excellent appetites.

"Best meal I've had in a long while," said the ragged man. "I hope I can return the favor some time."

"We'll be happy to call on you," said Bart, "but we are going to leave this afternoon. We are bound up the river."

"Well, good luck to you. May I trouble you to put me on the other side?" and he looked at Fenn who nodded in assent.

"Well that was a queer coincidence," spoke Ned, as Fenn and the tramp were in the middle of the river on the return trip. "What in the world is he doing around here? Looks as though the secret hadn't developed yet."

"We must ask Fenn what sort of headquarters he has over there," suggested Bart. "He'll soon be back. There I meant to ask him to sell us some salt! He's taken his back."

"We can get it at the next town," put in Frank. "We'll camp just above it."