Phil Bradley's Mountain Boys Part 9

"I confess that I don't understand it, Phil," he went on to say. "The real thrill must be lacking. You can only get it when you're bent on bagging your game. That's the thrill that comes down to us from our savage ancestors who had to live by hunting."

"I'm able to judge of that, Ethan, because I've tried both ways; and I give you my word I feel just as much pleasure when I'm trying to outwit a cunning fox as you do when you trap one. I get his picture, and you have his pelt, that's all the difference."

"Well," replied Ethan with a grin, "when that same pelt brings you in more than a cool three hundred, it makes considerable difference in the end."

Lub began to make faces, and swallow very fast at hearing that, as though he had come near choking; but in fact it was to keep from chuckling, and thus arousing suspicion in the mind of the hoodwinked Ethan.

"I noticed you down on your hands and knees, Ethan, over where we thought we saw that moving figure of a man last night," Phil went on to say, changing the subject hastily, partly from the same reason that influenced Lub to cough and gasp; "did you find out anything?"

At that the other a.s.sumed a mysterious air.

"Well, first of all, we weren't mistaken, you want to know, boys," he remarked.

"Then it was a sure-enough man?" asked Lub, beginning to be deeply interested.

"That's what it was," Ethan a.s.sured him. "I found his trail as easy as turning over my hand. Even followed it some ways off, but lost the same among the rocks. When we saw him turn away he didn't come back again, but kept straight on."

"He must have been watching us through one of the windows?" suggested Lub.

"If he was, he made up his mind we were too many for him to tackle, and that he had better clear out for good," Ethan continued, as though he had been figuring it all out beforehand, and had his mind made up.

"Do you think he could have been the same party who was in our cabin before we came along, Phil?" asked Lub.

"It looks that way," the other told him. "If this man had just been a stranger, up here to try the fis.h.i.+ng, or something like that, he would have knocked on the door, and tried to make our acquaintance. As it was, he watched us, and then cleared out."

"Let's hope he won't think to come back again," Lub pursued.

"Better hurry and get that strainer fixed on the top of our chimney, Lub," advised Ethan, a little maliciously; "first a bear, and the next thing to drop down on us might be a real man."

"Oh! leave that to me," the other a.s.sured him; "I haven't quite figured it out in my mind just how I'll fix it, but after lunch I'll get busy.

And believe me, when the Fenwick screen is applied, not even a 'possum or a squirrel can invade our cabin home. It'll be impervious to man or beast."

"Better get out a patent right away on the thing then, Lub," he was advised by the scoffing Ethan, "or some wise duck will be stealing the idea from you."

"Where's X-Ray?" asked Phil, suddenly noticing that the fourth member of the camping expedition was missing.

Ethan looked at Lub, inquiringly.

"You see I was so busy reading the signs of that trail I never once thought a thing about any one else. Lub, you must have seen where he went, didn't you?"

"Last I saw of him he was down on the lake sh.o.r.e," replied the other.

"He had his fis.h.i.+ng rod along, and I understood him to say he meant to look for some gra.s.shoppers or crickets or something for bait, because he felt trout hungry."

"X-Ray has a weakness for fish, you know," Ethan declared. "He said he'd be the boss fisherman of the bunch while we were up here, and even dared me to take him up, the one to win who could show the greatest number, biggest variety, and the heaviest fish of all that were taken. I think I'll go him, if I can find time to bother."

"And I'll encourage you both to the limit," chuckled Lub; "because that means we're bound to have all the fine trout we can eat while we're here. May the best man win. I know how to cook 'em to beat the band, by rolling each trout in cracker crumbs, and then frying in hot grease from fat salt pork. Makes my mouth fairly water just to mention it."

"We won't forget that, Lub," Ethan told him; "and you can consider that you're hereby appointed the official fish frying man of the lot. For if there's anything I hate to cook it's fish. Eating's another story, and I always try to do my duty there."

"I thought I heard some one call out then," said Lub, looking around him.

"Must have been a crow cawing, or a gray squirrel barking," suggested Ethan.

They listened for a dozen seconds, but heard nothing.

"I reckon I was mistaken about it," admitted Lub, finally; "only I wondered if X-Ray could have tumbled into any sort of trouble. He's spry enough as a rule, and not built like me."

"No danger of him not letting off a whoop if he ran up against anything like a rough deal," Ethan ventured.

"Still, no harm done if we stepped down to the edge of the water, and took a little look around," suggested Phil. "We've none of us paid any attention to the lake so far, only to take that early morning dip in the same. It seems to be about a quarter of a mile across to the further sh.o.r.e, and with lots of bays and nooks, as well as points of land jutting out like fingers. I'd think it was a splendid piece of water for trout; and I'm glad I own some land fronting on Lake Surprise."

As they turned in the direction of the edge of the water Lub's eyes were frequently cast upward toward the rude chimney that surmounted the back of the cabin wall. Evidently he was endeavoring to figure out just how he might accomplish the task he had taken upon his shoulders, and arrange things, so that while the smoke had free access to the open air, all manner of intruders would be kept out.

When Lub did undertake anything, no matter how simple, he was apt to throw his whole heart and soul into the accomplishment of the same. To him it meant that his reputation was at stake; unless he made good his chums would have the laugh on him for a long time to come.

Ethan happened to be in the lead as they advanced. That may have accounted for the fact that it was him who brought them to a sudden standstill by throwing up a warning hand, and exclaiming sharply:

"What's that I hear? Sounds mighty like the drip of a paddle to me!"

"And there's a line moving out from the sh.o.r.e!" added Phil, pointing; "there's _something_ back of that point, and moving in the water.

Perhaps it may only be an old mother duck with her little brood. No, there it goes again. Ethan, you're right about it; that's the dip of a paddle!"

"Whoever's got a canoe up here, they're heading this way, because you can see from the ripples," Ethan continued, eagerly; for versed in many of the secrets of woodcraft the boy was quick to notice which way the successive ripples were moving.

"Watch now, because he's going to push out from behind that tongue of wooded land!" said Phil, sharply.

All of them stood there as if rooted to the spot. Their eyes were glued on the point mentioned by Phil, and back of which must be the canoe that was sending all those ripples forth, away from the land.

"There it comes!" breathed Lub, who was holding his breath, and consequently getting, frightfully red in the face.

They could see the raised prow of what looked to be a genuine birch bark canoe poke in sight. In these modern days when even the Indians up in Maine manufacture up-to-date canvas canoes by the thousand, it is a rare event to run across one made of birch bark. The trees that are large enough for the purpose have about all been destroyed, so the Indians claim, which accounts for the revolution in canoes.

Further and further moved the boat. Now half of its length was seen, then two-thirds, and finally the stern had pa.s.sed the end of the point.

The three watchers could now see that it was being softly driven by a paddler who sat in the stern, and wielded a single blade.

All of them stared, and Lub, strange to say was the first to find utterance so as to voice his surprise.

"Why, Phil, Ethan, don't you see who it is?" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed; "who but our chum, X-Ray Tyson, sitting there as big as life, and heading straight toward us! Where under the sun d'ye reckon he found that canoe; and whose can it be?"

CHAPTER VIII

THE MOUNTAIN BOYS IN CAMP

"Whoopee! h.e.l.lo, X-Ray, where'd you pick it up?"