CHAPTER IV. BUMPUS TAKES A CHANCE.
"Everybody's getting bears but me," Bumpus was saying on the followingday, when, a new camp having been selected, further removed from thenoise of the rapids, the boys decided to stay over for a little while,and try their luck hunting through the big timber lands around them.
The two runaway pack mules had been recovered. Just as the boys expected,the trailing stakes had become caught fast in the rocks that lay up thestream, and in which direction the panic-stricken pack animals had gone.Both were found before darkness set in, and escorted back in triumph tothe camp.
The boys had also discovered that hungry trout lay in schools below thefoaming rapids, just anxious to grace the frying-pan of the scouts. Andthe savory mess they had secured for breakfast that morning was one ofthe reasons why, upon putting the question to a vote, it was decided tostay over a while.
And after they had located the new camp, with the tents erected, andthings looking fairly comfortable, the complaining voice of Bumpus washeard in the land, as he rubbed diligently at the shining barrels of hisMarlin with an oiled rag.
"Well, you had your chance, didn't you?" demanded Step Hen, with a winkand a nod in the direction of Thad, who had paused to listen, whilestretching the great skin of the grizzly on a big frame, to start drying.
"I s'pose I did; but he was too far away for my buckshot to bring himdown," declared Bumpus; "but I hit him, didn't I, Thad?"
"In eight different places by actual count," replied the other."Altogether this pelt is shot so full of holes it won't make the finestrug going; but whenever we look at it on the floor of our armory we'llall remember the queer kind of fruit the trees out here bear."
"There is Giraffe, now," went on Bumpus, still hugging his grievance tohis heart; "he got a black bear when we were up in Maine, but I call thatjust a snap. The old thief was astealin' honey from the tree we cut down,when Giraffe, he just plunked him. Why, my dandy gun would have knockedthat bear over at such close range, the easiest ever."
"I guess it would, Bumpus," said Thad, consolingly, "and sometime,perhaps you'll have your chance. We all hope you will, anyhow."
"I'm going to see to it that I do," grumbled the fat scout; and from hismanner one would be apt to think that really life was becoming very tame,and hardly worth having, unless he might find his one great wishgratified.
Bumpus really felt his failure of the preceding night very keenly. It wasnot often that any of the boys had seen him so sober and sour.
He felt as though a cruel fate had taken pleasure in cheating him out ofhonors he should have claimed. That ought to have been _his_ bear, byright of first discovery; and also because he had fired both barrels ofhis Marlin at the beast, and actually knocked him over.
The trouble was, old Charlie did not know enough to stay down; but hadpersisted in giving them further trouble, until Thad engineered thatclever scheme for getting possession of a gun, when immediately the gamewas up.
Had Thad ever dreamed of what a tenacious hold this newly-acquired desireto shine as a mighty Nimrod, had taken upon the mind of Bumpus, he wouldcertainly have been more careful about leaving the tenderfoot to his owndevices.
The morning was still young when Giraffe proposed that they make up aparty, to take a look around.
"Who knows but what we might run across a deer; or one of those RockyMountain big-horn sheep?" he added, as a clincher to his argument.
"That sounds good to me," declared Step Hen.
"I'll go along to help tote your game," remarked Bob White.
"And I'm in the ring," remarked Step Hen. "Why, my mouth's just wateringfor some prime mutton chops."
Thad smiled. He knew that if ever they did secure a big-horn, the fleshof that high jumping animal would probably be as tough as leather, unlessfortunately they chanced upon a young one.
It was finally arranged that besides Thad and Allan, Step Hen, Giraffeand Bob White should make up the hunting party.
This would leave three in camp--Smithy who had no gun, Davy Jones, whosehead still felt sore from the effect of his accident on the previousafternoon; and the despondent Bumpus, who was acting very strangely, forone of his cheery disposition.
No one dreamed that any trouble could come upon the camp while part ofthe scouts were away. Two of those who remained owned guns, though at thelast moment Davy Jones forced Bob White to carry his "pump" shot gun. Butthen, what was there to fear? If the mate of the slain grizzly camearound, looking for the absent one, the boys had been instructed to taketo the trees; and Thad had even gone to the trouble of picking out thebest fortress available in this line, one that even the clumsy Bumpuscould readily climb.
"Think you could shin up that tree, in case the other old MountainCharlie came prowling around?" Thad asked Bumpus.
"Oh! I guess I could," replied the other, rather indifferently, Thadthought.
"Tell you what, Bumpus," called out Step Hen, "if I was you I'd fix itso's to have my ammunition up in that tree. Then, you see, if he sat downat the butt here, to wait till you got ripe and dropped, why, you couldjust keep banging away till you loaded him so full of little bullets hecouldn't get up off the ground. Great stunt, ain't it boys?"
The others readily declared that it was making things easy for Bumpus.They were even kind enough to express a wish that another bear _would_take a notion to come around, just to please Bumpus, for it pained themexceedingly to see him looking so miserable.
But the fat boy did not grow at all enthusiastic over Step Hen'sproposal. He just watched all the preparations being made for the hunt;and sitting there on the log, kept polishing his gun, although itcertainly showed no speck of rust or grime.
Presently all of them were ready to start.
"It would be nice now," said Thad, before departing, "if some of youcamp-keepers gave those trout another try. We may not get a shot at adeer all the time we're gone; and if we fail on fresh meat, another messof trout would taste pretty fine."
"I should say they would, whether we strike game or not," declaredGiraffe.
"Haven't tasted anything so good since we were up in Maine last fall, andhad just one mess before the trout season closed," Allan observed.
"I'll try and accommodate you as far as I'm able," Smithy agreed.
"Same here," echoed Davy Jones.
But as for Bumpus, good-natured, jolly Bumpus, he seemed to have lost histongue, for he failed to add his promise to that of the other two scouts.
Thad looked at him as he turned away. He had never dreamed that the fatscout would take anything so much to heart. Bumpus was not cut out for agood hunter, either by instinct or bodily favor. Some of his enemies inCranford, like Brose Griffin and Eli Bangs, were wont to say that Bumpuswas not only ponderous of body, but "fat-witted" as well, by which theyprobably meant his mind was slow to act.
Still, there have been successful fat hunters. Bumpus knew, for he hadmade it a point to investigate in every way possible, and he was resolvedthat he would shine as a successful Nimrod, despite the disadvantagesunder which he labored. So much the more credit to him when he finallyproved his right to boast that proud title.
After the five hunters went away, Smithy found some bait, and wandereddown to the base of the rapids to fish. The gentle art of angling wasmore in the line of the dude of the patrol than tramping through the bigtimber after elusive game.
Here Davy Jones presently joined him, saying that Bumpus had urged him toadd a second rod and line to that Smithy already had out.
"Couldn't get him to try it, though," said Davy. "Told me he was nofisherman, and nearly always fell in, he was that clumsy. And between us,Smithy, that's pretty near the truth."
"Well, I can remember several occasions when Bumpus made a splash that hedidn't calculate on," remarked Smithy, who was usually just as careful ofhis language as he was of his clothes, and no one could ever rememberever hearing him utter any slang phrase.
Meanwhile the fi
ve hunters had gone off in high spirits. The day wasglorious, and a whole month of this sort of thing stared them in theface. That was enough to make any bunch of boys happy, especially whenthey cared as much for the Great Outdoors as Thad and his chums did.
Allan was a born hunter. What he did not know about stalking game and allsuch things that a successful hunter must be up in, the boys had not asyet learned.
He had noted the passing clouds, and observed the direction in which theprevailing wind blew. It was of considerable moment for the success oftheir fresh meat hunt, that they go _up_ the breeze. In this way theywould avoid having their presence in the timber made known in advance tothe wary game, through the medium of the wonderful sense of smell whichmost animals possess.
The five scouts spread out at times in the shape of a fan, so as to coveras much ground as possible.
Again they would come together for a little consultation, when they couldcompare notes; and those who were not very much experienced in stillhunting, pick up more or less valuable pointers.
Noon came, but as yet they had not met with any success. Around them thetall trees grew thickly, and some of them had trunks of such girth thatthe scouts easily understood why this region was always referred to asthe "big timber."
As they ascended higher up the slopes of the foothills that bordered theRockies, they would find the trees growing smaller all the while, untilfar up the heights the stunted mesquite or the dwarfed cedar aloneremained.
Not at all dismayed, after they had refreshed themselves with the lunchbrought for that purpose, the young hunters again started out.
The wind had veered somewhat, and with this fresh start they changedtheir own course, so as to keep it coming toward them. Thad was just aswell pleased, for this new direction would serve to keep them within afew miles of camp; and in case they did manage to secure meat, they wouldnot have so far to transport it.
Still the time kept slipping away, and the sun could hardly have beenmore than two hours above the western horizon when suddenly a buck wasstarted. Every one was so eager to get in a shot, that a regular volleyrang out immediately.
There was positively no chance for the poor deer. He went down in a heap,and was so near dead when he reached the ground that he did not even givea last expiring kick.
Of course the boys were delighted, especially when Allan declared theirunited quarry was a nice young buck, and that his flesh ought by allrights be tender.
Using the greatest dispatch the deer was soon cut up. And when thevarious packages of meat had been judiciously distributed, the fivescouts started on their return to camp.
Thanks to the knowledge of woodcraft possessed by Allan and Thad, theymanaged to make the camp on a line as straight as an arrow, almost.Indeed, Thad declared that a bee laden with honey, could make no moredirect drive for the hive than Allan had in leading them toward theregion of the camp.
It was just beginning to get a little dusk when they sighted thecrackling fire, and hurrying along, entered camp. Thad looked around.Davy was busy over the fire, and the delightful smell of frying trouttold what his occupation must be. Smithy was cutting up some small woodwith the camp-hatchet. Both looked up as the hunters came in.
"Where's Bumpus?" asked Thad, quickly scenting trouble.
Davy and Smithy exchanged glances.
"We hoped he'd found you, and come back," observed the former.
"Found us? What do you mean by that?" demanded the scoutmaster.
"We went down to the foot of the pool to fish," explained Davy. "An hourlater I came back to get another hook, and I found that Bumpus haddisappeared, taking his gun with him."
Thad and Allan exchanged worried glances. With night at hand and thatclumsy tenderfoot lost somewhere in the big timber, it was no wonder thata sense of impending trouble, that might yet end in tragedy, oppressedthem.