The Boy Scouts on the Trail; or, Scouting through the Big Game Country

by Herbert Carter

  CHAPTER XV. THE LUCK THAT CAME TO BUMPUS.

  "Where's Sebattis?" asked Step Hen, as they sat down to breakfast, therebeing a rude table in the cabin, around which the boys could gather;though the guides had to hold off, and either wait, or else munch theirfood elsewhere.

  "That's a fact; I thought there was somebody missing!" exclaimed Bumpus.

  Somehow or other they all looked toward Thad, as though he might be ableto give an explanation. And sure enough, he did.

  "Why, he beckoned to me about the time I came out," the scoutmasterremarked, "and told me he was going to take a little turn along the trailof that man. He hasn't come back yet; so I guess he's been able to followit some distance."

  "That sounds real woodsy now," declared Giraffe. "Following the trail forme. I'm struck on everything that seems like Cooper's _Leatherstocking_.Wonder whether he c'n keep it right up till he drops in on the crowd?P'raps they ain't so very far away from here, after all."

  "But I just saw Sebattis pass the window; there he is comin' in rightnow," observed Step Hen.

  The dusky-skinned guide was indeed entering the door. And no one couldtell by looking at his inscrutable face whether Sebattis had met withsuccess or disappointment in his recent labors.

  From the fact of his coming back so soon Thad rather imagined that thelatter must be the case. He knew the Indian would volunteer noexplanation unless asked questions; and so Thad managed to corner himwhile he was fixing his elkskin moccasins over by the fire. Whenpresently the patrol leader came back to the rest of the scouts, he wasgreeted by numerous demands that he communicate what he had learned.

  "Sebattis followed the tracks for some distance," Thad went on to say, ashe poured himself another cup of coffee; "but after the fellow got acertain distance from the cabin, he began to be more cautious. It wasjust as if he thought some one might want to follow him, and he did notmean they should succeed. At any rate, he covered his tracks so that evenSebattis was unable to find the trail again."

  "Then it's sure a fact that the hobo must be some woodsman himself,"Giraffe declared. "I thought an Indian could follow the trail of a fox,if he wanted."

  "Well, Sebattis said he was willing to go back again, and try further,and that he believed he _could_ find the trail again; but he wanted tomake sure first that we cared enough about it. From certain remarks hehad heard some of us make, he thought we didn't care to make theacquaintance of the rascals. We even said, you may remember, fellows,that we hadn't lost any hoboes that we knew of, and didn't mean to go outof our way to find any. And so Sebattis came back to report."

  "What did you tell him, Thad?" asked Step Hen.

  "Why," replied the other, "that so long as they didn't interfere with us,we had no reason to bother our heads about these men. We had plenty ofthings on hand, as it was, without trying burglar catching. If they onlylet us alone, and didn't run across our path, we'd forget there were anysuch chaps in the Maine woods."

  "Just think of the lost chance to lay in a big wad of the long green,enough to carry us all the way across the continent, and see something ofthe Far West, like we've often talked about," whined Bumpus.

  Thad was indeed surprised to hear the fat boy talk like this, for Bumpuswas, as a rule, a very peaceful boy, never willingly seeking trouble.Really, this anxiety in connection with that valuable letter, which hecould not place, try as he would, seemed to have upset him entirely, sothat he was no longer the same jolly Bumpus of old.

  "Which would you rather do to-day, Bumpus," the scoutmaster asked; "tryand find these desperate men, and like as not get the whole of us intotrouble; or hunt for a bee tree with Allan; while Davy and myself go withEli for a hunt?"

  There was no hesitation now, for with a wide grin Bumpus shouted:

  "Bee tree, first, last and all time for mine!"

  "Ditto here!" Giraffe followed by saying, as he laid a hand on the pit ofhis stomach, and bowed.

  "Can you make the try, Allan?" queried the stout scout, turningappealingly in the direction of the second in command of the patrol.

  "Do for goodness' sake oblige the little fellow," urged Giraffe. "Becausewe'll sure hear of nothing else every hour of the day. When that fellergets a thing on his mind he makes me think of the woman in the sleepingcar, who kept saying out loud in the night, again and again; 'Oh! I am_so_ thirsty; I am _so_ thirsty!' till a traveler, who couldn't sleep,got up, and went and gave her a cup of water. He was just tryin' to dropoff again when she started in, and this time she kept sayin', 'Oh! I_was_ so thirsty! I _was_ so thirsty!' Then he gave up tryin' to get asnooze till she tired out. And that's the way with Bumpus, boys."

  "But can we make the try this morning, Allan?" persisted the stout boy,when the laugh at his expense had died away.

  "Better say yes, and save yourself a heap of trouble," suggested StepHen, who was himself a little anxious to see how the search might beconducted.

  "Well," remarked Allan, "nothing can be done until about noon. If the sunseems fairly warm then, we might have a chance to see bees flying, orcatch the drone of the swarm of young ones trying their wings justoutside the opening of the tree hive. I'll set you all to work watchingand listening; and we'll see who the lucky one will be."

  "Seems to me a lot of fellows make a living, picking up things in theseMaine woods, from honey and bees wax, to lumbermen and pulp stuffchoppers?" Thad remarked, with an inquiring glance toward Allan.

  "They do," replied the other, promptly. "I could tell you a heap aboutthese people, some of whom I've even met in my trips around."

  "Then go on and tell us," urged Davy.

  "Yes, we always like to know what's doing," added Giraffe, as he helpedhimself to another flapjack, which Jim, the younger guide, seemed to knowhow to make in a way calculated to appeal to a hungry camper's appetite.

  "Well, first of all there's the spruce gum hunter," Allan started to say."You can follow the snowshoe trail of these busy chaps through pathlessstretches, and find their camp-fires glowing in many a lonely glen. Theyget about between a dollar and a dollar and a half a pound, for thestuff, and it's worth all of that. They usually travel in pairs, andcollect many pounds in a season."

  "But how do they manage to climb some of these tall spruce trees we'veseen on our trip?" asked Thad.

  "Oh! that's easy enough," laughed the other. "Every spruce gum hunter hasa pair of climbers with him. You've seen the telephone and telegraph wiremen use these, fastened to their legs with straps. He has to have warmclothing; a curved chisel, in the handle of which a pole is set; a finejack knife; and a gun. In the night he sits by the fire, smoking, whilehe cleans his day's pick."

  "But he has to eat; tell us then how he totes his grub along; and wheredoes he put up at in the woods? We haven't run across any hotels up here,it strikes me?" asked Giraffe.

  "As for his food," Allan continued, "he drags on a moose sled, and it'seither a deserted camp, or the lee side of a tree every night, as hehappens to find things. And he is satisfied with mighty little in the wayof food, trusting to his gun to eke things out. With plenty of work, afew bushels of beans, some flour and molasses, and perhaps some coffee, agum picker thinks himself well off for a winter's campaign."

  "He must have a good eye for gum trees?" suggested Thad.

  "Just what he has," replied the accommodating Allan. "A near-sighted gumhunter, or even a careless one, would miss many a chance to fill up hispack. The keen picker runs his eye along every trunk. Here and there hesees a tall spruce marked by a seam, through which the sap has oozed,perhaps for years. The bubbles have crept out, and been clarified day byday by contact with sun and rain. There they are, nuggets of amber andgarnet, ready for the picker's chisel. Sometimes he climbs up, and tapsaway like a giant woodpecker. Then again, when it pays to do it, the treeis felled; for of course he has his axe along; no man would ever go intothe Maine woods without that, you know."

  "If I was in that business," spoke up Bumpus, "tell you what I'd
do."

  "Go on, then," said Giraffe, taking advantage of the fat boy'sabstraction to pick the pancake off his plate, there being no more in themain dish.

  "Why, I'd just have a few acres of extra fine trees, and I'd scar 'emgood and hard, so they'd bleed. Then, in a year or two, I'd just gatherthe gum, like they do in the turpentine regions down South."

  "Good idea, Bumpus," declared Allan. "But another great man has thoughtof that same idea, which isn't copyrighted either. Every year this man,who is called the spruce gum king, takes a certain circuit, and woundsthe trees. Then, a couple of years afterwards he wanders that way, andreaps his harvest. There's another industry that gives employment to lotsof men up here. That's gathering hoop poles."

  "Oh! tell us something about that," demanded Step Hen.

  "Well," Allan went on, "he follows in the wake of the logger, you mightsay, for he just wants the second growth that springs up around thestumps left after the tree is cut down. He takes what no one else seemsto want, the young birch and ash sprouts that are too plentiful anyway.

  "He takes a horse with him on his tours, for he has lots to tote. Hehauls his day's cutting to camp, and spends the evening fixing the poles.It's pretty hard work, I'm told, all around; but then the evenings arepleasant, what with the crackle of the fire; the swish of the shaves atwork taking the bark off the poles; the pipe-smoking; and thestory-telling."

  "What do they get for the poles after they've been skinned?" asked StepHen.

  "About two or three cents apiece, but that pays well for their work, andthey bring in a heap of stuff through a winter. Of course, you know thatthese poles are split later, and used for barrels, the smaller ones fornail kegs, and to put around boxes. Down South all the orange boxes havesuch bindings."

  "Is that all the ways of earning a living up here in this wonderfulcountry?" Thad asked, deeply interested.

  "I should say decidedly not," replied the other. "Why, I couldn't beginto tell you the different things men do up here, besides acting asguides; fire wardens, to protect the woods; and logging. There's theprofessional honey hunter who spends most of his time summers in locatingbee trees. Then there's the axe-handle man. He needs ash of a largergrowth than the hoop-pole fellow. The trees are chopped in the fall, andthen by means of a 'froe' and an axe, each handle is shaped out in arough state. Then they are buried, that they may season withoutcracking."

  "How funny that is," said Bumpus, who was listening to all this witheager ears.

  "For fear that the wood may split," continued Allan, "each end is daubedwith a paint which is part grease; because ash goes to pieces mightyeasy, if the sun gets at it. The rough handles are sent away to a factoryto be nicely finished. Then there's the fellow who hunts for ship knees;and I tell you he has no picnic. I tried it once, and I give you my wordI don't want to go out again."

  "Ship knees!" echoed Giraffe.

  "Yes, and there are heaps of these picked up, but only after tough work.The prospector goes out with his axe, hunting for hack or back juniper,or tamarack. He must examine every one he finds to make sure it has justthe right kind of a bend or crook; and then comes the job of digging itout, which is a muscle racking business, believe me."

  "Any more?" demanded Bumpus, when Allen paused to finish his coffee.

  "Oh! yes, lots. I remember the fellow who goes after hemlock bark for thetanneries. Then there are the Indians who make baskets: or who prefer tohave the old style birch bark canoe, to one of these elegant up-to-datecanvas ones, that are built on exactly the same model as those usedhundreds of years ago. Big birches are few and far between up in Mainenow, and sometimes, as Sebattis here has told me, one of the Penobscotswill travel nearly fifty miles before he can strike a tree large enoughto make a canoe, yielding a piece of bark without a crack, or aknot-hole, where a branch has been lopped off."

  "That winds up the list, then, does it?" asked Step Hen, getting up.

  "Far from it," laughed Allen. "I could sit here for half an hour more,and tell you about other queer occupations that these wonderful Mainewoods open up to the men who have a leaning that way. Why, I understandthat some smart fellows have even been dredging some of the streams afterthe mussels or fresh water clams; and not only selling the shells to thefactories where pearl buttons are manufactured, but finding pearls everylittle while."

  "Pearls, and up here of all places!" exclaimed Bumpus, as though amazed.

  "Certainly," replied Allen. "They've been taking a great many out in thestreams of Indiana, Missouri and other states in the middle West theseyears back, and one man in the Moosehead region in Maine found a pearlnot long ago that brought two hundred dollars, and was worth many timesthat when polished, I guess. And then, last but not least, are thetrappers who are scattered all over the state. Each winter they take atremendous amount of valuable fur; and as Maine is so far north, thepelts being several times as much as those in warmer countries. A muskrathide from a swamp up here, is worth three times as much as one taken inFlorida or Louisiana. But some other time I may tell you more about theresources of these great woods. It's time we got busy doing things; andhere are Thad and Davy just waiting to be moving on their little hunt."

  "Well, I declare," remarked Bumpus, "I never had any idea the woods uphere had such a lot of living in 'em for an army of men," and he lookedaround at the encircling trees with renewed respect.

  The little hunting party was soon ready to launch forth.

  "Be back before night, I suppose?" bawled out Giraffe after them.

  "We expect to," replied Thad; "but if we hold off, make your minds upwe're all right, and don't let Bumpus worry."

  "Huh! just as if Bumpus didn't have enough to worry about as it is,"grumbled the fat boy. "I dreamed last night that when I got back toCranford I found all my folks lined up at the station, and every blessedone apointin' an accusin' finger right at me, an' lookin' real sad. Say,I woke up all of a tremble, and was mighty glad to find that it was onlya silly dream. Course I must a delivered that note to the bank; chancesthey're ten to one I did; _but I wish I knew; I just wish I could be deadsure_!"

  He was a bit gloomy all through the morning, and sat there staring intothe red heart of the fire until Giraffe demanded to know whether he wassick; and if he meant to go out with them after lunch to hunt for thatbee tree, or keep camp.

  That seemed to excite Bumpus, and he again forgot all his troubles. Butevidently his pondering had not brought any happy result; and he was justas far as ever from knowing whether he had carried out his father'sinstructions with regard to that precious letter, or not.

  The sun had indeed warmed things up toward noon. It often does during thefall season in Maine, and before the first heavy snow, making idealweather; the early morning being crisp and delightful, with the middle ofthe day quite warm.

  Allan had admitted that if ever they had a chance to find a bee tree thatday ought to tell the tale. He believed that the young bees would surelybe tempted to take some exercise before they were hived up for the longwinter. And when there is a swarm buzzing around busily in a clump, theymake quite some noise, that a keen ear can easily detect, if on guard.

  So, after they had partaken of a light lunch, they started out, leavingSebattis to look after the camp while they were gone.

  Besides an axe, the boys carried a few things in which a supply of honeycould be brought back, in case success followed their efforts, and agenuine bee tree was located.

  Allan told them the comforting truth, that since this region hadapparently not been hunted over for some years, there ought to be a verygood chance of running across a hive. Of course they carried their guns,because no one could tell when these useful articles would be needed. Andas Jim said, "when a man wants his gun, he gen'rally needs it in a bighurry."

  As they went along Allan took occasion to point out numerous things thatbore some relation to the facts which he had so recently been tellingthem.

  "That's a birch almost big enough to make a canoe," he remarked, pointingto a splend
id specimen of the shapely tree that stood close by. "And overyonder is a tamarack on the border of that swale. You generally find themin swampy sections. And around this tree blown down by a storm, you cansee growing a lot of young shoots, which, as like as not, the hoop poleman would cut for his use."

  Presently, however, he began to explain how they must stretch out,forming a line through the woods, and covering the ground. At one endAllen himself took up his station, with Jim the guide forming the otherguard. This was a precaution, lest one of the others showed aninclination to stray. They were to keep in touch with one another byoccasional shouts, which were to serve as signals. Each one had hisparticular and distinguishing call, and when Allen shouted, first Bumpus,next in line, then Step Hen, and after him Giraffe and Jim were to answerin order; that the one in charge could be sure that they were keeping insomething of a straight line.

  And in case a hum was heard that sounded like a hive, a certain cry,twice repeated, was to summon all the others to the spot.

  The boys tramped for half an hour, with eyes and ears on the alert. Manytimes no doubt they imagined they caught the welcome buzzing sound, butupon coming to a halt in order to listen and make certain, beforebringing their companions hurrying to the spot, it always devolved intosomething else, much to the chagrin and disappointment of the hunter.

  Bumpus was fully awake to the great possibilities of the occasion.Somehow this honey hunting had become a sort of mania with him. It wasnot that he loved the sweet nectar of the hive any better than Giraffefor instance; but his nature was such that he liked to find things thatwere lost. And somehow the idea of locating a genuine bee tree appealedimmensely to the fat boy.

  So he tramped sturdily along, looking upward with a great effort, onaccount of his stout build, and frequently wishing Nature had endowed himwith that "rubber neck" which Giraffe boasted, and which must be an idealone for a wild honey hunter, Bumpus imagined. It was perhaps the firstand only time he had ever envied his comrade in the possession of such along neck.

  But Bumpus really believed that fortune was going to be extra kind tohim. He kept telling himself that if any one discovered the wonderful beetree, it must be himself, because he had dreamed of it so very often.

  Now and then he answered the calls which Allen sent out. He did thisbecause he had a horror of getting lost. These woods seemed everlastinglybig to him; and he could just imagine the terrible condition that mustface any tenderfoot scout who managed to stray away from contact with hiscamp mates.

  About three quarters of an hour had gone now, and as yet no cryannouncing the successful find had come pealing along the line. Bumpuswas beginning to feel tired, without any question. He admitted it tohimself, but grudgingly, for he did not want to halt the proceedings, nowthat they were actually engaged in the bee hunt.

  He refreshed himself at every water hole he came to, whether it were arunning brook, or just a tiny pond with a thin skim of ice along theshore.

  They were passing through a rather thick patch of woods when Bumpus feltanother thrill. He felt certain that he had caught something that soundedlike the buzzing of a swarm of insects; and as he had more than oncemeddled with the hive his people had at home, Bumpus was well qualifiedto know what the droning might be like.

  Eagerly did he look upward, all around him. Then he began to locate thequarter from which it seemed to come, and in so doing brought to bearwhat little woods' lore he had managed to pick up; for he actually notedthe direction of the slight breeze, and how the noise came to him moreclearly as he moved to a certain point.

  Finally he believed it must come from one tree in particular. He madeseveral tests, and each time his conviction grew more and more positive.And still the droning kept up. But the tree was a very tall one, andBumpus had never trained his eyes to detecting small objects at adistance. In fact, some of his friends had even declared that he must benear-sighted, though he stoutly denied this.

  Then suddenly, he saw a confused blur between himself and the blue skyabove the tops of the trees. It actually moved back and forth in asingular swaying way.

  Bumpus thrilled now with new pride. He fully believed that in this talltree of the Maine woods he had actually located a bee hive that wouldassure them all the clarified sweetness they could carry away.

  And when he had made as sure of this as he could, Bumpus put histrembling hands to his mouth, and sent out in his loudest tones the callagreed upon to tell the others that he, Bumpus, had after all been theone to succeed.