CHAPTER XIV.
A CAMP OF TRAMPS.
It was evidently high time to be getting home, and the boy started back in the direction he had just come. He was certain that it was the right direction, and yet the trees and bushes kept getting thicker and thicker, and he missed the open glades through which he had been strolling. This was clearly the wrong track; and, facing directly about, he now attempted to retrace his latest course.
It was rapidly growing dark; strange night sounds were beginning to be heard in the forest, and a great dread began to clutch at the boy’s heart. Was he really lost, as the Babes in the Wood had been, and would he die there, and be covered with leaves, so that even his body could not be found, and nobody would ever know what had become of him?
He began to call aloud; but only the forest echoes mocked him, and the night birds answered him with harsh cries. At length it was too dark to even try and walk any farther. The little fellow, frightened and weary, sank down at the foot of a great tree, that seemed to lean over him with an air of protection and sympathy.
He would not cry. Uncle Phin had said that none of the Dales ever cried after they were grown up, and he was a Dale, almost grown up. Two or three big tears rolled silently down his cheeks; but then that was something that might happen to almost anybody, at any time. It could not be counted as crying.
As he sat there in the darkness, trying to be brave because he was a Dale, the sound of a peculiar, long-drawn, far-away cry, caused him involuntarily to look around; though, of course, he did not expect to see anything through the darkness. He did see something, though, and it was a light. It was not a bright, clear light; but a dim glow, just visible between the tree trunks, and evidently at quite a distance from where he sat.
The boy’s spirits rose with a bound. He dashed away the stealthy tear drops, and sprang to his feet. Things were coming out all right after all; for a light meant people, who, according to simple-hearted little Arthur’s experience of the world, would be kind to him. They would probably invite him to stay to supper, and show him the way to the Ark afterwards. Then he would ask them to help him and Uncle Phin get the boat afloat, and his becoming lost would turn out to be the very best kind of a thing that could have happened after all.
While these thoughts passed through his mind, the boy was making his way, as rapidly as possible, through the woods in the direction of the light, that grew brighter and more distinct with each step. He still carried his precious book in one hand, and the great bunch of flowers that he had gathered, in the other. Suddenly he came to an abrupt pause on the edge of a shallow ravine, through which laughed and tumbled a small brook. The sides of the ravine were quite steep, and, almost at his feet, the boy saw a sight that filled him with amazement.
About a glowing fire, occupying all sorts of easy positions, were grouped a number of men and one boy. They were ragged, dirty, and unshaven. Their clothes were made up of odds and ends. Some of them were smoking short black pipes; some were talking loudly; and others lay perfectly still, as though asleep. Two of the number seemed to be preparing supper; for they were at work about the fire, and were evidently anxious regarding the contents of some tin cans, and several battered kettles. At a short distance from the fire were two or three rude huts of poles and branches.
Although Arthur did not know it at the time, this was a tramps’ camp, to which all these vagrants of society, who happened to be prowling about that part of the country, flocked when night overtook them. Sometimes one or more, who were tired of tramping, and who had begged or stolen a stock of provisions, would remain here for several days, so that, from early spring until quite late in the autumn, the camp was never without a greater or less number of occupants.
Now, although Arthur had never had any practical experience with tramps, except to gaze curiously, from a respectful distance, at the few specimens he had seen, he instinctively shrank from making his presence known to the rough-looking fellows gathered beneath him. It was pleasant to see the cheerful firelight, to hear the sound of voices, and to know that there were other human beings besides himself in that dark forest. It would also be very pleasant to the hungry boy if he could have some supper. Still, to venture down among those men might prove very unpleasant. So Arthur wisely decided to bear his hunger as best he might, and study them from a safe distance, at least for a while longer.
All at once, from some part of the camp beyond the circle of firelight, came the same melancholy long-drawn cry that had first directed the boy’s attention to this place, and he now recognized it as the howl of a dog in distress.
At the sound, the largest and most powerful of all the tramps, who had been lying motionless stretched at full length on the ground, sprang up, and in a fierce voice exclaimed:
“You Kid, fetch that pup here! we’ll see if we can’t give him something to ki-yi for, or else we’ll stop his infernal yelp entirely.”
The one boy of the camp, who answered to the name of “Kid,” and was a tough-looking young rascal, larger and apparently a year or two older than Arthur, hastened to obey this command. He disappeared, and in a minute returned dragging after him, by means of a bit of rope about its neck that was evidently choking it, a dog. As the bright firelight fell full upon the animal, Arthur was amazed to recognize it as the very one that had been presented to him by the Chapmans the day before. There could be no doubt of it; for there were the same erect sharp-pointed ears, the same white-tipped little tail, and the same brindled markings. It was indeed poor Rusty; and Arthur’s heart ached to see him in so wretched a plight. How could he have come there? What were they about to do with him? This last question was quickly answered.
The big tramp took the rope from the lad’s hand, at the same time bidding him go and cut a hickory switch. “See that it’s a good one too,” he added.
This command was obeyed as the other had been, and in a few minutes the switch was ready.
“Now whale him while I hold him,” ordered the big tramp, savagely. “We’ll give him a chance to do all his howling at once, and then we’ll have some peace for the rest of the night. Lay it on solid, and if you kill him, so much the better.”
Arthur’s blood boiled at these words. How could anybody be so cruel? Would the boy dare beat his dog?
The heavy switch was uplifted and brought down with vicious force on the animal’s back. The dog uttered a sharp cry of pain and terror.
Again was the switch lifted; but before it could descend it was snatched from the boy’s hand and flung away; while he was confronted by a sturdy young figure with blazing eyes. “How dare you strike my dog?” cried Arthur, in a voice that choked and trembled with anger. “He is mine! My very own! And I won’t have him hurt. I won’t, I say.”
The other boy stared at this one in open-mouthed amazement, while the tramps, who had been startled by the sight of the strange little figure, as it dashed into their camp from the dark forest, now gathered about the two to see the fun.
“Well, my bantam,” said the big tramp to Arthur, “I don’t know who you are, nor where you come from; but you talk pretty big about your dog. Kid here says it’s his dog, and I reckon you’ll have to settle it between you. Can you fight?”
“I don’t want to fight,” replied Arthur, looking the big tramp bravely in the face.
“Oh, well then, it’s the Kid’s dog, and he’ll do as he pleases with him. Kid, give the cur a kick.”
The boy lifted his foot but again Arthur sprang in front of him. “You sha’n’t kick him, even if I have to fight you to make you stop it!” he cried. Then he clenched his fists, and his face grew very pale.
“That’s right, sonny!” said the big tramp, approvingly. “I’ll back you and hold your picture-book and nosegay. Take off your jacket like a little man. Now, fellers, form a ring and give the bantams a fair show.”