CHAPTER VIII
AN ODD LETTER
"Suppose he is dead?" faltered Fenn, as he stumbled along. "Will--will Ibe arrested."
"Don't worry until you see who it is, and how badly he is hurt," advisedFrank. They were soon at the fence. Ned and Frank parted the bushes thatgrew higher than the topmost rail, and plunged on through. Fenn followed,but Alice was going farther up, where she knew there was a gate.
The sight that met the eyes of the boys was most reassuring. Standing upon his big wagon was Jed Sneed, calmly pitching off cord wood into apile. The fuel was evidently for Bart's house.
"Were you--are you--that is--you aren't dead; are you?" gasped Fenn."Is--is anybody?"
"Not that I know of," answered Jed, as he straightened up. "But I comepretty nigh bein'. As nigh as I want to. I just heard a bullet sing overmy head, as I was stooping down to get hold of a stick. Who wasshooting, anyhow?"
"I--I was," faltered Stumpy. "I missed the tin can I aimed at. Did Icome very close to you?"
"I didn't take time to measure the distance," announced Jed dryly, "butit was close enough."
"We heard you yell," said Frank, "and we thought some one was killed. Wedidn't know it was you."
"I was hollering at the horses, partly," explained the man. "The peskycritters won't stand still when they hear shootin'. So it was youfellows; eh? Well, I ought to have knowed better than to come out withthis load of wood to-day. Jest as I was startin' a black cat run rightacross the road in front of the horses, and that's one of the very worstkind of bad signs. I should have turned back, but Mr. Keene wanted thiswood to-day, so I kept on. Then, as if one warnin' wasn't enough, I hadanother. Jest as I was turnin' in this back way, thinkin' it would be alittle shorter, three crows flew over my head, goin' South. They musthave stayed up pretty late, but there's no worse sign than three crows,unless it's to meet a snake with his tail toward you. But, as Mr. Keenewanted the wood, I come on, and look what was the result--I was nearlykilled."
"Oh, I guess the bullet didn't come so near you as you thought,"suggested Ned, partly for Fenn's benefit. "Fenn usually fires high, andhe missed the can clean. Then, you're down in a sort of hollow here, andI guess it was well over your head."
"I hope so," remarked Jed. "A miss is as good as a mile, I guess. Still,it was partly my own fault, for not payin' attention to them signs. Youcan make up your minds I won't tempt fate that way again. I'll turn backnext time when a black cat crosses in front of me. And then, too, Iought to have give you chaps warnin'. I heard you shootin' as I droveup, and then, when it stopped, I s'posed you was done. Then when thatone shot came, and whizzed over my head, I thought it was all up withme. I hollered some, to let you know I was here, and to quiet the team.Then I went on tossin' off the wood."
Fenn breathed easier. Some color was beginning to come back into hischeeks. A moment later Alice came hurrying along, having found the gate.
"Is he badly hurt?" she asked. "Have they got him in the wagon? Perhapsyou'd better drive right to the hospital Mr. Sneed," for she knew theteamster, who did odd jobs around town.
"Wa'al, I don't mind drivin' to the hospital for ye," announced Jed witha grin, "but there ain't no need for it."
"Don't tell me he's--" but Alice paused, not willing to utter the fatalword. Several rolls of bandages fell from her hands.
"Oh, I'm all right," went on Jed. "I'll live to be an old man if I waitto be shot, I guess. Whoa, there, ponies," this last to his team.
"Then isn't any one hurt?" asked Alice, and though she was undoubtedlyglad of it, there was a distinct note of disappointment in her voice.
"No one," explained Ned, as he told how it had happened. Jed took partof the blame, for not announcing his presence, but, nevertheless, Fennwas a bit shaky for some time after the incident, and Ned and the otherswere nervous.
"The doctor will be right over!" suddenly cried Bart, bursting throughthe bushes. "Who is it, and is he badly hurt?" Then he had to be toldhow it was, and he hurried back into the house to countermand the orderfor the physician. Alice gathered up her bandages, and with her box ofremedies retraced her steps. She had missed a chance to practice for herchosen profession, but she was glad of it.
A more careful investigation of how Fenn had stood when he shot, and acalculation of the angle at which he held the rifle, showed that thebullet must have gone well over Jed's head, so it was not so bad as atfirst thought.
"But it was mostly my own fault," concluded the odd man, as he droveaway. "Never again will I keep on when I see a black cat--" He stoppedsuddenly, checked his team, and got out of the empty wagon.
"What's the matter now?" asked Frank.
"There's a horseshoe in the field there, and it's turned the wrong wayfor luck," explained Jed, as he picked it up. "I was drivin' righttoward it--must have come off one of my horses when I was comin' aroundto get a good place to toss off the wood."
"Anyway it had the curved, or open side, toward me, and if you go towarda horseshoe that way it's a sure sign that you'll have no luck in ayear. A mighty sure sign, too."
"What are you going to do?" asked Bart, as he saw Jed put the shoe backon the ground again.
"Oh, I just turned it around again. Now I can drive toward it right, andI'll have good luck--you see," which he proceeded to do, and, after hiswagon had passed the shoe, he got out again, picked it up, and then wenton, well satisfied with himself.
As the days went on the weather grew colder. There were frequent snowstorms, and the snow did not melt. The Christmas holidays wereapproaching, and the boys were preparing for camp life, each lad havingsecured permission to take some time out of school.
One night, when the four chums were at Fenn's house, getting ready somethings, and talking of the fun they expected to have, there came a knockon the front door. As the boys were the only ones downstairs, Fennvolunteered to answer it.
"Though I don't know who can be calling at this hour," he remarked, forit was nearly ten o'clock. He opened the door, and his startledexclamation brought his chums to his side.
"There's no one here!" cried the stout lad, "but I was sure I heard aknock--didn't you?"
"Sure," replied Bart, and the others nodded. "There has been some onehere," went on Bart. "See the footprints in the snow. It's snowed sincewe came. Some one ran up, knocked, and ran away again."
"I wonder what for?" murmured Fenn, looking up and down the desertedstreet. "Probably a joke. Maybe it was Sandy Merton."
"Whoever it was, he left something," said Frank, suddenly.
"What?" asked Fenn.
"This letter," answered Frank, picking up a missive from the doorstep.The white envelope, so much like the snow, had not at first beennoticed.
"Bring it in and see what it says," proposed Bart, and soon, under thelight of the gas in the dining-room, the boys were perusing the strangemissive.
"It's to me," said Fenn, as he rapidly scanned it. "But what in theworld does it mean? And it has no signature. Listen to this fellows,"and he read:
"'MR. FENN MASTERSON,
"'Dear Sir:--I understand you have quite a collection of mud turtles. Would you be willing to part with them? I mean for a consideration, of course. If you would kindly communicate with me. I will pay you a good price for all the turtles you have. But I must make this stipulation, which, at first may seem odd to you. But I have a reason for it. I can not meet you personally. If you are willing to sell your turtles will you write a note to that effect, and leave it in the dead sycamore tree on the edge of Oak Swamp? That is the only way in which you can communicate with me. Kindly let me hear from you soon.'"
As Fenn had said, there was no signature. He turned the strange letterover and looked at the back. It was blank.
"Well, wouldn't that jar you!" exclaimed Bart, as he took the note fromFenn's hand.
Bart Keene's Hunting Days; or, The Darewell Chums in a Winter Camp Page 8