CHAPTER XI.
WHAT HAPPENED ON THE SECOND NIGHT.
"Owen, Owen, wake up!"
When Bandy-legs dug his elbow into the side of his sleeping chum, andwhispered these words in his ear, naturally enough the said Owen couldnot help but awaken.
"What ails you?" he asked sleepily; and even Steve stirred as though thesound of their voices had aroused him.
"My trap's sprung!" was the rather surprising information Bandy-legsvouchsafed in return.
"The dickens you say!" exclaimed Owen, suddenly sitting up in thedarkness. "Now, how d'ye know that fact? Did anything give a yelp?"
"No," continued the other, eagerly; "but you see, Owen, before I went tosleep I had Max tie a string to my leg and the other end to that loop.It was fixed under the root of a tree; and if the trap went off, why,don't you see, the string'd give me just a sweet little yank, like itwanted to tell me to come around and take my game out."
"And did you feel that same yank?" demanded Steve, sitting up suddenly.
"Right now, before I woke Owen up. Oh, it was a sure enough jerk, allright! What'll we do about it?" demanded Bandy-legs.
"Let's crawl out and see what happened," remarked Owen, setting hisactions to correspond with his words, and being followed by his twocompanions.
"What is it?"
That was Max speaking, and they could see his head poked out from thepartly open flap of the smaller tent. Evidently he must have been awakeat the time, or else the sound of murmuring voices aroused him; for Maxalways declared that he was a very light sleeper.
"Bandy-legs here says his trap is sprung," remarked Owen. "He tells usyou fixed a string to his leg and the other end to the loop. Well, thatjust gave him word something had happened."
"We'll soon find out," was all Max remarked, as he proceeded to crawlall the way out of his tent.
Stepping over he picked up the lantern, and a match that had been lefthandily near by. And so it took but a fraction of a minute for them topossess a light that would answer all purposes.
The four of them then approached the place where Bandy-legs had set hiswonderful snare, which he had tested so well himself to start with.
"Huh! I don't see anybody swinging around here!" remarked the alwaysskeptical Steve.
"Neither do I," added Owen, in a tone of disappointment.
"But see, fellers, the old trap, she's gone off!" exclaimed Bandy-legs,in a thrilling tone. "Didn't I tell you I felt a pull that woke me up?It worked, just you bet it did, now."
The hickory sapling was indeed standing up almost straight, with theloop dangling part way down; but the snare was devoid of any victim.
Max looked around as best he could with such a poor light.
"I don't see the first sign of any tracks here," he remarked.
"Shucks, the chances are Bandy-legs might have kicked in the night, andthat was enough to set the loop free!" Steve declared.
"He couldn't do that," answered Max; "I fixed that string in such a waythere was no danger of it happening. But I rather think some fox inhunting around set the thing off, but didn't get caught in the spreadloop. It was set for bigger game, you remember, boys."
"Well, I'm going back to my blanket again," said Owen. "It feels chillyout here, and there's no use staying."
Even Bandy-legs seemed to have lost all faith in his wonderful snare;for he declined to stay long enough to put it in working order again.Twice now it had gone off, and there could be no telling what the thirdresult might be if he ventured to try it again, which he would not.
There was no further alarm, and at dawn the boys came piling out oftheir tents. The weather seemed to have grown a bit sultry, so Maxremarked that perhaps a dip in the water of the Big Sunflower might notfeel out of the way.
So they had a happy little time of it, splashing each other, andcarrying on as any five carefree lads might be expected to; until all ofthem decided they had had enough, when dressing was the next thing onthe programme.
Bandy-legs was the first to finish. The fire was burning briskly, and anice red bed of embers between the side stones invited the attention ofthe cook of the morning, namely himself.
"Say, where'd you hang that half of a ham, Owen?" he asked, after whatseemed a vain search.
"Just where we always kept it," was the reply; "suspended from that limbof the oak over--well, did anybody change it around or take it insidethe tent?" and Owen looked his surprise, when the others all shook theirheads in the negative.
"It's gone!" cried Bandy-legs, looking very unhappy; "our nice ham'sbeen hooked!"
A rush was made for the oak tree in question.
"There's the twine I hung it up by, dangling from the limb right now,"declared Owen, pointing.
"But show me the ham, will you?" asked Bandy-legs. "We can't make adecent breakfast off string that's only got a ham flavor, can we?"
"Why, it must have been full six feet up from the ground," remarkedSteve, for the benefit of Bandy-legs; "I never thought before a panthercould leap _that_ high!"
"Oh, gracious!" began Bandy-legs; and then, seeing the look on Steve'sface, he understood that the other was only baiting him for a fall:whereupon he shut his jaws hard together, and determined not to be takenin.
Max, of course, was already looking for signs. It was his opinion thatfew things could happen without there being evident traces left behind,if only one knew how to find them.
"Here's a track, fellows; and it looks like the same we saw before!" hecalled out, presently, as he bent over eagerly.
"It sure does," admitted Owen.
"Right under where our lovely ham hung, too," wailed Bandy-legs.
"All he had to do was to reach up and grab it," commented Owen.
Toby did not say anything, but went through a pantomime movement as of aman taking possession of some object dangling there from the limb.
"I wish now we'd taken it in our tent, when Max complained that the hamsmell made it unpleasant in his own," Bandy-legs went on.
"There was a man once who actually locked the door of his stable afterhis horse was took," Steve ventured; at which Max laughed.
"Well, it does look like we'd have to go without ham for a while, boys;but after all, it was only a half. Think how bad we'd feel if it was awhole one. And whoever took it must have been pretty hungry in thebargain. He's been living on partridges right along, when he could findany in his snares. The rest of the time he went without a bite, seemslike."
"But, Max, who is he?" asked Steve; at which the other shrugged hisshoulders.
"Ask me something easy, boys," he replied. "I've never seen him evenonce, like Herb and his chums did, when they tried to sleep in thatqueer old cabin. But you see, we've got his footprints right here in thedirt. They ought to tell us something, perhaps."
"But, Max, footprints can't talk, can they?" demanded Bandy-legs,
"Always, in their own language," was the ready reply. "You have to studythat a while though, before you can understand what they say."
"Oh, yes, I'm on to you now, Max," cried the other, triumphantly; "youmean that you can tell it was a man by the size of the prints; ain'tthat it?"
"One of many things," answered Max. "Now, this seems to have been apretty hefty sort of fellow, because the marks are big. It is a commonshoe, too, just like the men make and wear in the prisons and publicinstitutions."
Bandy-legs fairly gasped for breath at hearing this remark. To his mindit seemed to imply that the mysterious dweller of the strange cabin onCatamount Island must be an escaped convict, a desperate ruffian, whomight take a notion to murder them all in their sleep.
"And we've still got five more nights to stay here!" he groaned, asthough with that new intelligence the very last hope he was cherishingof ever being able to see his folks again vanished like a puff of smokein the wind.
"Say, that makes me think of something," Steve broke out just then.
"About what?" asked Max, turning from his examination of the plainfootprint at the pl
ace where the unknown visitor had stood when reachingup for the tempting half of a smoked ham.
"Those two men," the other went on to say.
"What about 'em?" asked Owen.
"I said they wore gray homespun clothes, didn't I, just like thefarmers, plenty of 'em, have around these diggings? Well, I've changedmy mind, boys. It just broke in on me that I saw somethin' flash everytime they moved this way and that. No, it wasn't the field glasseseither; but somethin' about their clothes. Brass buttons, I reckon,boys! Them men might 'a' been wardens from the penitentiary, lookin' fora prisoner that escaped some time ago!"
Steve drew himself up proudly, as though conscious of the fact that hehad hit upon a very plausible explanation of the mystery. Max wasevidently thinking it over, for his face seemed serious enough, to besure.
"That doesn't sound so much out of the way, Steve," he admitted. "Factis, it may be the very thing. Some of these guards have gray uniforms, Ibelieve; and they put brass buttons on the same, just to make them lookofficial-like. Yes, they wanted to get over here, and didn't have aboat. Perhaps they've gone up river to get one, and cross to the island.They might try it to-day; and then again perhaps they'd wait for anothernight, for fear of frightening him away, and losing him somehow if hejumped into the river."
"What a peck of trouble we've sure struck since we took on that dare,"Owen remarked, just then.
"Yes," added Bandy-legs, with a sad look, "and the end ain't come alongyet, by a big sight."
Of course they had plenty of other things to supply the lack of ham forbreakfast. Max even went to the trouble of making some flapjacks, justto take away the bitter disappointment Bandy-legs seemed to feel overthe disappearance of the joint. And all of them united in declaring thatthey did not care how soon he had the same notion again, the cakes wereso fine.
The day was very warm, and having been reminded that the Big SunflowerRiver was capable of assuming the dimensions of a flood upon certainoccasions, nervous Bandy-legs turned one eye upward from time to time,as though trying to figure out whether they might expect a cloudburst ofsome sort, should a storm drop in upon them.
Steve joked him more than a little about his new fears.
"Got your tree all picked out, have you, Bandy-legs?" he would remark inhis bantering way. "Be sure and tie your canoe to the lower limb, soit'll stay by you. And feel a little pity, won't you, please, for theother poor fellers who go ridin' down the raging flood, hangin' on tothe bottom of their boats? Oh, it's a wise guy you show yourself, oldboy. They don't ketch you asleep, do they? Weasels ain't in it withBandy-legs, boys. You see from the way he looks at that oak yonder,that's his choice, when she comes bowling along here."
Max had some little scheme of his own on his mind. He did not even takehis cousin into his confidence; but along after lunch he picked up thegun, and, remarking that he might go for a little walk along the shore,left them wondering.
They knew Max well enough to feel pretty certain he must have something"hatching," as Steve put it; and all sorts of guesses were indulged induring his absence.
Although the four boys left in camp amused themselves in a variety ofways, even fishing with fair success, as Steve had done on the precedingday, time hung heavy on their hands that afternoon. It seemed as thoughthe sun would never draw near the line of far-away hills that marked thewestern horizon.
More than a few times Owen would look up, as some slight sound caughthis ear. He was listening for the report of the gun Max carried; but asthe minutes turned into hours, and nothing was heard, Owen began to growanxious.
He had almost reached the point of proposing that they give a halloo,and if no reply came, start out to look for the absent chum, when amoving figure up the shore caught his attention, and presently itdeveloped into Max.
"See anything of the convict?" asked Steve, upon whom that idea seemedto have taken a decided hold.
Max shook his head in the negative.
"Have you been up to that cabin again?" asked Owen, suspiciously.
"I suppose I might as well tell you that I've laid a little plan that,if it only turns out well, may bag the unknown visitor we had lastnight," Max confessed. "You see, when we were up there the other day, Inoticed that old as it was, the cabin was as strong as anything. If afellow could only slip up, and shoot a bar across the door in any wayafter _some one_ went inside, it'd be dollars to doughnuts he'd find thechap there in the morning."
"And when would you do all this fine slipping-up business?" asked Steve.
"I'm going there again to-night," Max continued, positively; "and liearound to see what happens. And none of you need say a single word,because you don't come along with me. When I've managed to secure thatdoor as I've arranged for, it'll be time enough to let you know aboutit. Forget it now, boys; and let's talk about supper."
Bandy-legs stared hard at Max, as though he could not believe his ears.That anyone would dare venture all the way up to that strange cabin inthe darkness of the night, and even try and capture the desperateruffian whom they now believed to be an escaped convict, amazed him.
Sure enough, that night, about the time the boys under ordinaryconditions would be thinking of seeking their blankets, Max quietly tookhis gun and vanished from the sight of his chums.
He had taken particular note of every step of the route along the bankwith this night journey in view. And he felt now that he could silentlymake his way along without anything bordering upon an accident. Had anyof the others been with him a clumsy mis-step was apt to create trouble;and Bandy-legs in particular was always getting into a mess.
Max had reached a point about halfway up the shore of Catamount Islandwhen he suddenly stopped short and crouched low. Surely that was the lowsound of voices coming to his ear. And he immediately recognized thefact that the murmur must be carried across the water, which is such asplendid conveyer of sounds.
Then some persons must be coming off from the shore in a boat! His mindwent back to what Steve had seen of the two men in gray uniforms. Werethey about to land on the island now, bent upon recapturing thedesperate man who was hiding there.
Max had just about come to this decision when he had occasion to alterhis views of the matter. He heard a peculiar little cough, which struckhim as mighty familiar. Their old enemy, Ted Shafter, had an odd way ofmaking such a sound; and there were those who said it was caused bysmoking so many cigarettes. Did this cigarette cough mean that Ted andhis two cronies were coming to play a practical joke on the campers ofCatamount Island?