Jack Winters' Campmates Part 6

Jack did not make any pretense at hurrying. He was taking his time, it seemed, and enjoying the scenery around him. A thousand things called for exclamation of delight, for the woods looked especially grand with the sun glinting on the green foliage of the various trees, some of which were veritable forest monarchs.

Once before noon arrived, Jack stopped short. The largest tree thus far encountered confronted them. Just what size b.u.t.t it had I should be afraid to say, for fear I might not be believed, but it was perfectly enormous.

"I must try to get a shot at that dandy oak," said Jack, with bubbling enthusiasm, such as becomes an amateur photographer who loves his calling. "Never have I set eyes on such a majestic king of the woods.

I'm sure it will make a splendid picture with you standing alongside, Steve, just to show its enormous girth. The pity of it is that I can't dream of trying to get the whole tree in the picture, for no camera could do that in these dense woods, where you can't get far away from the object you're photographing."

He found that the side toward the sun was after all the best for his purpose, and accordingly, after a little maneuvering, Jack secured a picture of the tremendous monarch of the woods.

"I guess now he was a pretty hefty old tree when Columbus discovered America," said Steve, afterwards, as he tried to measure the b.u.t.t by pa.s.sing around it many times with his arms fully extended. "Just think of all the stirring events in history that this giant has outlived. It makes a fellow look up with respect, and feel as if he wanted to take off his cap to the patriarch, doesn't it, Jack?"

"You give him the right name when you say that, for a fact, Steve; because there's no way of our telling just how many hundred years he has stood right in this same spot."

"Well, I'm glad I'm not a tree," grinned Steve, "because it must be terribly monotonous staying all your life rooted to the ground, and never seeing anything of this beautiful world. As for me, I want to travel when I grow up, and look on every foreign land. Going on now, Jack, are you? Soon be time to take a little noon rest, and lighten the loads we're carrying in our pockets."

"Given half an hour more and it'll be noon," Jack informed him, after taking a look aloft to where the beaming sun was high in the heavens. "I never like to eat lunch until then, so let's wait a bit. Besides, I'm not quite as hungry as I ought to be to do justice to all that stuff you put in my pockets."

After that Jack did not seem anxious to snap off further pictures, though they came across a number that would have made excellent ones.

Steve wondered whether he might not be saving his film for something more important. Even the thought gave a delicious little thrill, his imagination was so highly excited by now.

Then came the time when Jack, taking another look aloft, announced that the sun had reached his zenith, or nearest point overhead. That was good news for Steve, although truth to tell he had for some time been slily nibbling at the contents of one of the packages he carried in his pockets, unable to resist the temptation while the opportunity was within his grasp.

Fortune favored them again; but then possibly the presence of that sweet singing little rivulet that meandered through the forest may have had something to do with Jack's decision to stop for lunch; he was always seeing these small but very important things, as Steve very well knew.

They found a mossy bank and sat down, Steve with a great sigh of contentment; but whether this was caused by the fact that his lame foot was hurting him a bit again, or just from plain delight over the arrival of "feeding time," it would be hard to say; nor, indeed, fair to big Steve, who might have his weaknesses, but on the whole was a real good fellow.

Here the pair sat and ate and drank of the cold water until they had fully satisfied the inner man. After all, Steve was compelled to wrap up part of his lunch again, being utterly unable to devour it.

"Huh! guess that time my eyes were bigger 'n my stomach," he grunted, being too full for much speaking; "but, then, never mind, we are quite a ways from camp, and I often take a little bite around three in the afternoon, even when I'm home. So it isn't going to be wasted, believe me."

"Only waisted," laughingly said Jack, and then apologized for getting off such an atrocious pun.

They decided to lie around for an hour, and then push on a little farther before turning back. That Jack figured would bring them to the camp by the triangle oaks an hour or so before darkness came on, which was time enough.

It was very pleasant for Steve, lying there on his back, and feeling the gentle breeze fan his heated face; for around about noon the sun's rays began to grow pretty fervid, and Steve often mopped his perspiring and beaming face, though taking it good naturedly.

Both of them shut their eyes and rested, though not meaning to even take what Steve was pleased to call a "cat nap." It was peculiarly still just at that hour after the middle of the day. The little woods animals must all be sleeping in their burrows, or the hollow trees where they had their nests. Even the inquisitive squirrels were only noticeable by their absence. A scolding bevy of crows alighted in a tree some distance off, and kept up what Steve called facetiously a "crow caucus."

The time Jack meant to remain there resting, had almost expired when both of the boys suddenly sat up, and held their heads in a listening att.i.tude.

CHAPTER VIII

WHEN THE CAT RULED THE ROOST

"I've heard foxes bark before, Jack," said Steve, with a trace of excitement in his manner, "but never like that. I reckon now those bowwows were plain dog!"

"Sure thing," remarked his companion, nodding his head at the same time, while a pleased look flashed athwart his face.

"It wasn't so far away, either, was it?" continued Steve, meditatively.

"We have the air in our favor, that's true, but the sound was pretty strong. Huh! seems as if we may not be the only campers in this stretch of the Pontico Hills. Other folks have taken a notion to come up here. I wonder if they can be Chester fellows, or from some other place."

"It doesn't matter much to us who they are, since we don't intend to mix with them," said Jack, drily.

"That was a pretty husky bark, Jack, and I should say on a venture the beast might be a fair-sized dog. I think I'll look around for a nice club as we saunter along. Never did fancy being jumped on by a mastiff, or a vicious collie. Been bitten twice already, and the third time might be fatal to poor little Stephen."

"That isn't a bad idea," his mate told him; "and I'll copy your example.

Then if we are unlucky enough to run smack into the beast, we can keep him at bay anyhow until his owners come up and rescue us. But I'd a heap rather not have it happen. As you say, the air is coming toward us, which is a good thing; for in that case even a dog with a good nose wouldn't be apt to get our scent in a hurry."

Jack now evinced a disposition to move on. It was as if that series of gruff barks from the unseen dog had acted as a sort of challenge; and having a duty to perform he meant to carry it out grimly.

They accordingly walked on, not making any kind of haste. Indeed, Jack showed a disposition to act cautiously. He was continually keeping a careful vigil, and, as a rule, his eyes were directed ahead. There seemed to be no longer a disposition to look for beautiful vistas that might draw forth exclamations of delight; and as for snapping off a picture, why, Jack had slung his camera back of his shoulder with a final air that told he had put such an idea completely out of his head.

As the minutes pa.s.sed and they heard no further indications of the dog's presence near by, they concluded that he must have gone back to his day dreams. Steve found himself more than ever puzzled by the actions of his companion. He wished harder than before that Jack would lift the veil a little, and tell him what it all meant, who that man might be, and what he was doing up there among the hills that would bear watching.

It began to get real exciting once, when Jack suddenly ducked and pulled Steve down with him, as though he had glimpsed something suspicious.

Valiant Steve gripped his club with a firmer clutch, took a big breath, and awaited the coming of the savage dog; for he believed nothing less than this was about to confront them.

Jack raised his head so that he might see above the bushes behind which they chanced to be crouching. Then he gave a low chuckle as of amus.e.m.e.nt.

"False alarm after all, Steve!" he whispered. "See, it was only a red fox scuttling away, with his big brush dangling behind him. He was just waking up after his afternoon nap, and wondering where he could get a fat partridge for his supper when our coming disturbed him. I just caught a glimpse of something moving, and on the spur of the moment of course could think only of the dog."

Steve breathed freely again. He also knocked on the ground a bit savagely with that elegant club of his.

"Well, I'm just as well pleased, Jack," he remarked, "though I had it made up to give the brute all that was coming to him. Once let me get a fair crack at him with this stick, and he'll go daffy, I warrant you.

I'll put all the vim into the blow that stands for a home-run hit on the diamond. But remember, I don't like dog, and I'm not aching for a chance to make the try."

So again they started along, still heading straight toward the region out of which had come that tell-tale barking. They had come to a still wilder section of country by now. The land was cut up by little ridges and gullies and walking proved more tiresome. Jack appeared to notice this fact, as though it might have a certain significance in his eyes.

To Steve, however, it only meant that there must be more chances of game holding forth amidst these dark and gloomy depressions, where trees and heavy undergrowth combined to make an almost impa.s.sable stretch.

While there was really no trail for them to follow, it happened that the easiest way to make progress took them along a direct line. On either hand the impediments seemed to be such as to discourage any variation from their course. Only with considerable effort could they have pushed through the tangled vegetation, and for one, Jack did not seem disposed to try it.

Then something happened.

"Oh! did you hear that, Jack?" gasped Steve.

Both of them had come to an abrupt halt, and were standing there, straining their eyes to see what lay ahead of them.

"The first time it was a dog," muttered Jack, as if communing with himself; "and now, unless I'm might mistaken, that meant cat!"

"Cat!" echoed Steve, incredulously. "Why, it was a whole lot louder noise than any cat I ever ran across could make! a snarl that sent a cold chill racing up and down my backbone. Cat? What sort of a cat would you call it, Jack?"

"A wild cat, if anything," replied the other, neither of them stirring as yet. "Look around you and tell me if anybody could imagine a better place for such a beast to live in. And I think I've located it. We can find out quickly enough by making a move as if to go on."

He suited the action to the words. Instantly there came the repet.i.tion of that vicious snarl. It seemed to contain all the concentrated essence of savage hatred, and sent another s.h.i.+ver over Steve.