CHAPTER V
A BOY SCOUT TRICK
"Where's that fool boy going now?" asked Tommy as George, inpursuit of the spy, dashed into the thicket.
"What did he see back here that caused him to let out a yell likethat?" asked Sandy.
"I don't believe he saw anything!" Will declared. "He just thoughthe'd give us a good scare by pretending he'd bumped into a band ofIndians, or something like that."
The boys looked over the ground in the rear of the tent, andfinally Tommy came to the place where the spy had punctured thecanvas.
"Who made this hole in the tent?" he asked.
The boys gathered around the opening through which the spy hadinspected the interior of the tent, and looked at each other withwonder expressed on their faces. Tommy was first to speak.
"George must have caught a man here looking in," he said.
"That's why he disappeared so suddenly," Will argued.
"Yes, he was chasing the Peeping Tom," Sandy agreed.
"I wish we knew the direction they took," Will mused. "The boy mayget into serious trouble, chasing off into the forest along in thenight. He should have told us of his discovery so one of us couldhave gone with him! We may be able to find him yet."
"Aw, he'll come back before long!" Tommy argued. "He can't makeany headway out there in the underbrush, and the fellow who washere will probably run away from him before he gets three rods fromthe tent."
"I hope so!" answered Will.
"But what was that gink prowling around the tent for?" asked Sandy."That must have been the same fellow we heard using the paddle ashort time ago. If it is, he's mighty liberal with his bullets!"
"I'm anxious about that boy," Will broke in. "I wish he'd comeback!"
"Yes, this isn't a very desirable country to be lost in in thenight!" Tommy admitted. "He ought not to have gone away."
"What do you make of this gink prowling around our tent?" askedSandy. "Do you think he's doing it out of curiosity, or because hehas an inkling of what we're up here after?"
"Huh! How would any one away off up here know anything about theLittle Brass God?" demanded Tommy.
"Look here," Will argued. "The Little Brass God is stolen fromthis house on Drexel Boulevard. Enclosed in a cavity in the toy isa will disposing of several million dollars worth of property. TheLittle Brass God is finally sold to a pawn-broker, who in turndisposes of it to a trapper known to belong in the Hudson Baydistrict."
"That's a fair statement," answered Tommy.
"Now, Mr. Horton, attorney for the man who is in quest of the lostwill, and Sigsbee, the man interested in probating the previouswill, both know of the final disposition of the Little Brass God.At least, Frederick Tupper knows that it was taken from the pawnshop by a Hudson Bay trapper, and it is believed that Sigsbeepossesses the same information."
"Of course, they both know about it," agreed Sandy.
"Now, why shouldn't they both send people up here in quest of theLittle Brass God?" Will continued.
"But suppose this man Sigsbee doesn't know anything about the willbeing in the belly of the Little Brass God?" suggested Tommy.
"We believe he does know all about it!" said Will.
"And do you believe, too, that he hired a burglar to go and stealthe Little Brass God?" asked Sandy.
"As I said before," Will answered, "we don't know anything aboutthat. The Little Brass God may have been taken by a burglar whowas simply in quest of plunder. The whole thing resolves itselfinto this: If the really, truly burglar stole the toy and sold itto the pawn-broker, the will is in the ugly little chap's belly.If Sigsbee hired the burglar he took the will out before thetrinket was sold at the pawn-shop. In that case, he would be thelast one to send an expedition up here to retrieve the toy. And soyou see," Will continued, "that we don't know anything about it."
"Well it's funny that gink should come prowling around our tents onthe first night of our arrival!" Tommy exclaimed. "According toall accounts, he should have come sneaking into camp looking for adrink of brandy. The fact that he ran away when discovered showsthat he wasn't here for any honest purpose."
"Well, what are we going to do?" demanded Sandy. "Let's give theLittle Brass God a rest long enough to make up our minds aboutGeorge."
"We can't do anything until morning," Will interposed.
"How do you know we can't?" demanded Tommy.
"Because it's dark, and because we know nothing about the country,"replied Will.
The boys sat before the fire until midnight listening for thereturn of their chum. When it began to snow they reluctantlydecided that George had crawled into some temporary shelter for thenight and would not think of trying to make his way home throughthe storm.
"You boys go to bed now," Will advised, "and I'll sit up and keepwatch. If you hear me firing how and then, don't think the camp'sbeen attacked. George may be lost in the woods, and I'll be doingthat to give him the right direction."
"We should have done that before," Tommy suggested.
"Well, get to bed," Will urged, "and I'll run the camp tillmorning."
Tommy and Sandy crawled into the tent which stood nearest to thegreat campfire and cuddled up in the warm blankets.
"Do you believe Will will stay in camp until morning?" asked Tommy.
"Of course I don't," was the reply. "He'll wait until we'reasleep, and then he'll go prowling around the camp in search ofGeorge."
"That's just about what he'll do."
"What's your idea, then?" asked Sandy.
"Well," Tommy whispered, "George may be out in the snow somewhere,and it won't take us very long to circle about the camp just tomake sure."
"I got you!" replied Sandy. "We'll get out under the back wall,and take a little trip with our searchlights."
Half an hour later, when Will, heavily wrapped, glanced in at thetent preparatory to going out on his quiet search for the missingchum, ho saw that the blankets were empty.
"The little scamps?" he chuckled. "They've beaten me to it!"
In the meantime, Tommy and Sandy were making their way through thewilderness traveling in the narrow light provided by the electrics.By this time the snow was quite deep, and the wind appeared to berising every minute.
"We never can get home in this storm if we once lose sight of thecampfire," Tommy said as the two huddled together in the lee of abig tree.
"That's a fact!" Sandy admitted. "So I guess we'd better be pokingalong. Which way is the fire?"
"Why, it ought to be right over there!" replied Tommy doubtfully.
"Over where?" demanded Sandy, with a note of alarm in his voice.
"Blessed if I know!" declared Tommy, sitting flat down in the snow.
The boys walked round and round the tree and made little excursionsin every direction without getting a single trace of the campfire.
"I guess we've gone and done it now!" Tommy grunted.
"Aw, we can find our way back all right enough!" Sandy declared."We came north when we left the camp, didn't we?"
"Guess we did," replied Tommy, his teeth rattling with the cold.
"Then all we've got to do is to follow the wind and we'll strikethe tents. That's some Boy Scout forestry sense, isn't it?"
"We'll wait until we see whether it brings us back to camp or not,"replied Tommy. "If it does, it's all right; if it doesn't, it'sall wrong."
Had the boys proceeded straight north on leaving the camp, theywould have doubtless returned to the lighted zone by keeping withthe wind, if the wind had not shifted to the west soon after theirdeparture from the camp.
They walked for what seemed to them to be hours. In fact, morethan once they glanced about hoping to get their direction from ashowing of daylight in the sky.
"I don't believe it ever will be daylight again," grumbled Sandy,"and I move we stop right here and build a big fire."
"Can we build a fire in all this ruck?" asked Tommy.
"You bet we can!" was the answer. "What
are we Boy Scouts good forif we can't build a fire in a storm?"
They cleared a little space in the snow and Tommy brought a handfulof dry bark. Shielding the flickering blaze as much as possible,the boy applied the match he had struck to the bark. The firewhich resulted could have been started in a teacup.
About this he built a skeleton tent of bits of dry soft wood fromsix to nine inches in length. His fire was now as large as anordinary kettle. Next, the boys threw larger boughs on the blaze,and finally succeeded in surrounding it by large logs.
"There's one thing about it," Tommy declared as they warmed theirhands over the blaze, "there won't any wild animals take a bite outof us as long as we keep near this fire!"
"I wish George would come poking along in," Sandy commented. "Ibelieve I'll go out in the thicket after I get warm and see if heisn't somewhere in this vicinity. I thought I heard a call overthere just a moment ago."
"Listen, then," Tommy advised. "If some one called, we're likelyto hear a repetition of the sound."
Sure enough, the call came again as the boys huddled over the fire.It came down with the wind and seemed to be rapidly drawing nearer.
"That sounds to me like a boy's voice," Sandy suggested.
"Sounds more like a half-breed to me!" Tommy answered.
"He's stopped coming on, anyway." Sandy exclaimed in a moment.
"Perhaps he's tumbled down in the snow!" Tommy argued.
"In that case, we'd better be getting out where he is," said Sandy.
The boys both left the fire and darted out into the darkness,listening for the call but hearing only the roaring of the wind.
Boy Scouts in Northern Wilds; Or, The Signal from the Hills Page 5