CHAPTER XIV — The Men Who Laughed

Before the party fell to work, the driver walked to the edge of the lake and tied his white handkerchief to the limb of a tree, which projected over the water. There was enough breeze to make it flutter, and the background of emerald brought it out with vivid distinctness. It was the signal to the bungalow that the chuck wagon, as they called it, had arrived, and the two canoes were to be sent across the lake for the supplies. Since it was expected at a certain time, our friends were on the watch for it. Within ten minutes after the piece of linen was fastened in place, the large canoes, each containing two persons, one of whom was Scout Master Hall, were seen heading for the spot where the provisions were awaiting them. It does not take a man and four lusty boys long to prepare a wagon load of such freight for shipment by water, and the cargo was ready a good while before the arrival of the craft.

The driver, who announced that he was “Jake,” sat on one of the boxes, lighted a corncob pipe and talked with the lads. Although he was rough of speech and at times inclined to profanity, the young men treated him with respect, and by their unvarying courtesy won his good will. He asked many questions and told them a good deal about himself; in short, they became quite chummy.

The two canoes had passed most of the distance when Jake abruptly asked:

“Have you seen anything of Asa and Bige Carter?”

“Who are they?” asked Alvin in turn, although he had heard the names before.

“I thought everybody knowed Asa and Bige; they’re twin brothers, and two of the darndest chaps that ever lived.”

This description, so far as it went, was not enlightening. Chester said:

“Those must have been the two men that called on Uncle Elk this morning and went off with him in their canoe. So far as we could see they look exactly alike.”

“That’s them,” replied Jake with a nod of his head. “Did the three come this way in their canoe?”

“They seemed to be heading for this place.”

“That settles it; they was Asa and Bige. I expected them to meet me here,” and Jake peered around in the wood, but without seeing anything of his friends.

“What might ye maan by spaking of them as two of the darndest chaps that ever lived?” asked Mike, who, as did his companions, hoped they had struck a lead that might yield them something worth while.

“Why, they’re just like a couple of Irishmen.”

“Arrah now, but what model gintlemen they must be! It will be an honor for us to make their acquaintance.”

Jake’s reply to this was to snatch off his straw hat, throw back his head and roar with laughter. Determined to probe farther, Alvin asked:

“What is there peculiar about the twin brothers?”

“Now, you jist wait till you meet ’em and you’ll find out. I’ll only warn you to keep your eyes wide open, or they’ll close ’em for you. Wal, the folks have about arriv.”

All rose to their feet and greeted their friends who were now within a short distance. The water was so deep that the light craft were able to lie broadside against the bank. It required skill and hard labor to get a portion of the freight aboard, but in due time it was accomplished.

“We are pretty heavily loaded,” remarked Scout Master Hall, “but the lake is smooth and we can easily make two or three trips. We can divide you four between us.”

“It’s blamed risky,” commented Jake, “but I guess it can be did if you’re all mighty keerful.”

Mr. Hall insisted that he and his three companions should change places with the others, but this arrangement would have defeated the scheme Alvin and his chums had in mind. Without revealing their object, they begged off and secured a compromise by which Hoke Butler was to return in one of the canoes, while the trio would walk home. In truth, Hoke was so tired from his long tramp that he was pleased by the plan.

“But I won’t go, Mike, if you’re going to feel bad about it,” he remarked before sitting down in the boat that was about to shove off.

“Av coorse me heart is nearly broke,” said Mike, “but it’s yer own comfort I’m thinking of, as Larry McWhymper said whin he put a brick in the bag for the cat he was drowning to set on and pass away comfortable. But I’m cheered by the hope of maating ye at supper time. Good luck to ye!”

The two craft, sunk almost to their gunwales, moved slowly across the mirror-like lake, reaching their destination without mishap, and returning for the last loads.

Jake looked at the three youths.

“You’ve got a mighty hard tramp afore you; if there was a road I’d take you home in my wagon.”

“We don’t mind it,” was the cheery reply of Alvin.

“Besides, if we feel like resting our legs and using our arms, we can borrow Dr. Spellman’s boat; his home isn’t far off. Do you go back at once?”

“I’ve a great mind to; it would serve Asa and Bige right if I did, but I’ll hang round a half hour or so and not a blamed bit longer, for I must git home afore dark.”

“Then we shall bid you good bye,” said Alvin shaking hands with the countryman, as did the others, all expressing the hope of soon meeting him again. Since it was he who regularly brought the supplies to this point, there seemed to be no reason why the mutual wish should not be gratified. Jake refilled and relighted his pipe, sitting on a fallen tree and showing by his vigorous puffs that he was not in the most patient of moods.

The three boys did not speak until sure they were beyond sight of Jake. Then they halted.

“Do you think he suspects anything?” asked Alvin, unconsciously lowering his voice.

“Why should he?” asked Chester.

“He suspicts we’re thramping for home,” remarked Mike, “which the same is what we wish him to belave.”

It will be understood that our young friends were resolute to learn all that was possible about the mystery that had tantalized them for the past day or two. Beyond a doubt the twin brothers were connected with it, and since Jake was awaiting their coming, it looked as if the boys had a fair chance of learning something.

They separated, and each began an approach to the driver and his team that was meant to be so cautious that Jake would not detect them. The very care used by each well nigh defeated its purpose. It fell to Alvin to catch the first enlightening glimpse of the countryman and that which he saw astonished him.

The Carter brothers must have been waiting near at hand for the departure of the boys, for in the brief interval since then they had come forward, loaded something in the wagon and covered it with a big sheet of soiled canvas. Whatever it was, its size was such that it filled the whole interior, and crowded against the seat in front. It towered several feet above the sides and suggested a load of hay, protected against a drenching rain.

“What can it be?” Alvin muttered, “and why are they so particular with it?” which questions were self asked by Chester and Mike, with none able to frame an answer.

Having loaded the wagon, the brothers proceeded carefully to tuck in the precious burden as if afraid jealous eyes might see it. Finally all was satisfactory and the three men climbed to the front seat. They had to sit snugly, but there was enough room. Jake was on the extreme right, where he could crack his whip without hindrance.

He glanced behind him, as if to make sure everything was right, jerked the reins, circled the whip lash which gave out an explosion like that of a fire cracker, and the sturdy horses bent to their task of dragging the wagon and its contents through the woods into the more open country, where the smoother highway made the task easy.

All three men crowded on the front seat were smoking. Jake stuck to his corncob pipe, but each brother sported a cigar, which by a special arrangement with Porter, the druggist in Boothbay Harbor, they bought for two cents apiece,—far in excess of their worth, as any one would decide who tested them, or even caught their odor. With all puffing vigorously, one might fancy that they instead of the horses supplied the motive power.

From where Alvin Landon stood behind the trunk of a large tree and peeped out, he saw that the brothers were doing a good deal of laughing, as if they recalled some humorous incident. Bige gave the particulars to Jake, who was so pleased that he threw back his head and made the forest ring with his laughter.

Since the backs of the men were turned toward the boys, the latter did not fear to come together to discuss their next step.

“I don’t see that we have learned more than we knew before,” remarked Alvin disgustedly; “what do you suppose they have covered up in that wagon?”

“I have no idea,” replied Chester.

“Let’s folly the team till it gets back to Bovil or wherever the same may be going. Better still,” added Mike, “we can slip up behind, lift the lid, and get a peep at the cratur himself.”

“How do you know what it may be?”

“I don’t, which is why I want to find out, and the same is thrue of yersilves.”

They gave over the plan for more than one reason. There was no saying how many miles they would have to tramp, and they could not go far without being discovered by the men. Then the situation, to say the least, would become embarrassing.

“I have the belief that we are near the solution,” said Alvin, “and we can afford to wait a day or two longer. We have several miles ahead and may as well place them behind us before nightfall. Come on.”

Good taste suggested that having called upon Dr. Spellman so recently they should pass him by on their return to the bungalow. This was done and they reached home without further incident.

Meanwhile, the wagon with its mysterious load was lurching and plunging over the primitive road, the three men on the front seat retaining their places with no little difficulty, but they were used to such traveling and no mishap followed.

Shortly after reaching the smoother highway, Bige Carter with another laugh exclaimed:

“By jingo! there they be!”

“You’re right; that’s them,” added his brother.

The two tramps, who have already figured to some extent in these pages, were descried as the team turned a corner, walking in the middle of the road. He who had lost his hat had managed in some way to secure another. Half of the rim was missing and his frowsy hair showed through the crown. As the rattle of wheels reached their ears, he who was known as Biggs looked around. Immediately the paths of the two diverged, one going to the right and the other to the left of the highway. Both limped as if the act of walking was painful. Naturally the team soon overtook them. Jake, who had been talking the matter over with his friends, stopped his horses.

“Whoa! wouldn’t you gentlemen like me to give you a lift?”

“Now ye’re shouting, boss,” replied Biggs as he and his companion each approached a front wagon wheel, “but where are yer going to put us?”

“You won’t mind setting on the bottom of the wagon in front of the stuff piled there?”

“Not a bit, boss; ye’re a trump.”

Resting one ragged shoe on a hub, the hobos clambered in and sat down behind the three men, who said nothing but tried to restrain their chuckling. They knew what was coming.

Biggs and Hutt drew up their legs and compressed themselves as much as possible. Still, with the best they could do they were cramped. It seemed to Biggs that a slight shifting of the freight behind them would help matters. He hesitated for a minute or two and then stealthily raised one corner of the canvas covering, his companion watching him.

Thus it came about that the revelation burst upon the two in the same instant. A howl of terror rang out from each, as they bounded to their feet and dived over the side of the wagon. They forgot their lameness, and ran in the direction of Gosling Lake as if they were contestants at Stockholm for the Marathon prize. That single peep under the canvas had shown the same appalling thing that drove them headlong from the canoe. It was actually near enough to touch them, and the wonder was that they were not smitten with a mortal dread.

As Jake and Bige and Asa rode on they were so convulsed with merriment that they surely would have fallen from their seats had not the highway been smooth and the pace of the horses a slow walk.

CHAPTER XV — The True Story of a Famous Sea Serpent

“It is over thirty years ago,” said Uncle Elk that evening to the listening Boy Scouts who were gathered in the bungalow, “that the whole country was thrown into excitement by accounts of a stupendous sea serpent which was repeatedly seen off the Isle of Shoals. You know that returning mariners have brought home stories of encounters in distant seas with similar monstrous reptiles. The reputation of many of these men for truthfulness, and the fact that more than one of them insisted that their eyes had not deceived them, led a good many to believe what they told. Nor am I prepared to say that some of the accounts were not founded on fact. In the remote past the land and sea were inhabited by creatures of such vast size that our largest quadrupeds are pygmies in comparison. While the land giants became extinct ages ago, it is not unreasonable to think that the oceans which cover three-fourths of the earth’s surface still hold inhabitants of tremendous growth.

“But leaving all this discussion for the present, I am now about to tell you the true story of one of the greatest fakes that ever astounded thousands of persons and amused the dozen or so who were in the secret. In the summer of 1879—perhaps a year earlier or later—people everywhere became interested in the reports that an enormous sea serpent had been seen off the Isle of Shoals. These stories were repeated so often and so circumstantially that it was evident there was something in them. General attention was drawn to that famous resort, and hundreds of guests visited the Appledore Hotel for the first time and remained for weeks. The serpent was said to be fifty or seventy feet long, its tapering neck, tail and general conformation were so natural in appearance that there could be no doubt of its reality. It was black in color and moved through the water just as a creature of its kind might be supposed to do. The newspapers sent their reporters thither and some of them saw it. You may be sure that they did justice to the theme. No one dared approach the monster near enough to make a photograph, for none had the temerity to run the risk of rousing the ire of the monster. Excursion steamers from Boston were crowded with thousands eager to get a glimpse of the terrifying creature without incurring any peril, for whoever heard of a sea serpent attacking a ship? It may crush a small boat in its prodigious jaws, as the hippopotamus of the upper Nile has been known to do,—but a steamer is beyond its capacity. Many of the passengers carried revolvers, and a number had rifles. They begged the captain to take them close enough to give a chance for bagging such royal game, and he was more than willing to oblige, but somehow or other the opportunity did not offer. It was said that so many craft cruising about his haunts scared him off, and he did not show himself for days. Then, when the search grew less ardent, he would reappear and the excitement would be greater than ever.

“Picture the piazza of the hotel, the upper windows, and even the roof swarming with people, nearly all with small or large glasses pointed out over the water, searching and waiting minute after minute for a sight of the terrific creature. Maybe after the scrutiny had lasted for hours some one would shout:

“‘I see him! Yonder he is!’

“And every glass would be focussed upon the point a half mile or more away, and wild exclamations would follow. The serpent was in plain sight of every eye. The fore part was upreared three or four feet, and the most powerful binoculars revealed the enormous eyes and vast mouth, while at varying distances to the rear could be seen bulging curvings of the stupendous body, as thick as a cask. Its hideous head slowly circled about on the neck as if the creature enjoyed the sensation he created. Then he dropped lower in the water, and seemed to be reposing, occasionally disporting himself lazily, but often displaying his terrifying convolutions.

“Meanwhile the news had been telegraphed far and near, and thousands of eager people hurried to the Isle of Shoals for a sight which they would remember all their lives. If they arrived before darkness set in they probably were gratified, for the serpent appeared to be fond of showing itself by daylight, but it invariably vanished before morning and probably would not be seen again for a week, when the former scenes would be repeated.

“Scores took up quarters at the hotel, which they had never visited before, and stayed until the close of the season. Most of these were rewarded by a glimpse or two of the serpent, though a few were disappointed and in their resentment declared there was no such thing.

“Not the papers alone, but many of the magazines contained disquisitions on the bogy of the sea. Startling pictures based on the numerous descriptions were given, and caused many a shudder among those who had to depend upon such sources of information.

“One day a dudish youth loudly announced that any man was a fool who was afraid of a sea serpent. He intended to row out in a boat and to go nigh enough to empty his revolver into the frightful head. Incidentally he let it fall that he had a record as a pistol expert, and he invited any one who had the ‘sand’ to go with him for a near view of his fight with the creature that was making a deuced bore of itself.

“To the breathless amazement of the awe-smitten listeners, two young women, pretty of feature and with mischievous eyes, volunteered. He warned them of the risk they ran, but they replied that they were not afraid of anything that failed to alarm him, and any way they didn’t believe the horrid creature would get a chance to harm them before their escort would pierce its brain with several bullets. This tribute to the young man’s skill and bravery caused him to set his hat at a greater angle and thrust out his chest still more. Many of the spectators thought it their duty to protest, but the girls would not be dissuaded, and a few minutes later the boat put off with its three occupants, while every glass or unaided eye followed the movements of the craft.

“This was one of the times when the serpent was in plain sight a half mile away, and the young hero headed directly toward it. The girls laughed and chatted and were sure it was the greatest lark in which they had ever engaged.

“They noticed that as they drew near the creature their escort showed lees enthusiasm and kept looking over his shoulder. It is not to be supposed they were free from a few tremors themselves, but, if so, they did not allow him to see it. They kept up their laughter and commented freely upon the timidity of the thousands who remained upon the hotel porch and watched the sea serpent from afar.

“More slowly the oars swayed until probably a couple of hundred yards separated the boat from that awful undulating monster. The young man ceased toiling and laid his hand upon the revolver in his hip pocket.

“‘You are not near enough to reach him,’ said one of the misses.

“‘I am best on long shots,’ he replied with another glance at that fearful head.

“‘Why, he has seen us! He is looking this way!’ exclaimed the other.

“‘Are you sure of that?’ he asked with chattering teeth.

“‘Yes; he’s coming toward us! Isn’t that splendid? All you will have to do is to wait until he is near enough and then shoot the horrid thing through the head as you said you would.’

“But the young man had heard enough. He whirled the boat around and rowed with might and main, never pausing until he reached the wharf, when he sprang out, and amid the laughter and jeers of the spectators rushed to his room, which he kept until the time came for him to leave the hotel.

“The sea serpent was seen at intervals all through the summer. It did not make itself too cheap, and a week or more would pass without its showing itself. It was observed late in the season, but finally disappeared for good. The Appledore House was crowded as never before, and ran to its fullest capacity for the two following summers because of the general expectation that the sea serpent would show up again, but it never did, and in due time became only a memory or was forgotten entirely.

“When you land at the dock at Boothbay Harbor and come up the slope to Commercial Street, turn to the left, walk only a little way and you will come to the large grocery store of Simpson and Perkins. In the upper hall of that store, as it used to be, the sea serpent of which I have been telling you was born and attained its full growth, preliminary to its removal to the Isle of Shoals.

“The author of its being was William Wilson, who died about ten years ago. He was an English sailor, who in middle life gave up the sea and settled in Boothbay Harbor, where for years he was the only rigger in the little town. He possessed great natural mechanical ability, and it was said of him that he could make anything. He was unusually skilful in plain and fancy sewing and in constructing all sorts of knickknacks. He turned his attention to house painting and in that developed real artistic taste. In short, he was a Jack-of-all-trades and good in each.

“One day a stranger who had heard of Wilson’s versatility came to him with a proposition that he should construct him a sea serpent, for which he was willing to pay two hundred dollars. He explained its purpose and impressed upon the artist the necessity of keeping the thing an absolute secret,—since the discovery that it was a fake would defeat the very object of its being, which was to build up business for the hotel at the Isle of Shoals.

“Wilson agreed to construct the sea serpent in accordance with his own ideas of what it should be. His employer was quite willing to accept this proviso, for he knew the man’s ingenuity and so the verbal contract was made.

“Wilson had a partner in the work, a Swede named Robert Alson, who is still living. These two used to saunter upstairs into the long hall which was their workshop, lock the door and devote themselves to the task, upon which they spent their spare hours throughout the winter. Like a true artist, Wilson would not hurry, and gave careful attention to the smaller details,—a fact which accounts for the perfect success of the extraordinary fraud.

“The sea serpent was exactly thirty-five feet long, and for convenience of shipment was made in three sections, which overlapped and could be readily sewn together. The material was strong canvas, painted a black color, with proper proportions. The tail tapered, as did the neck, the largest part of the body being about two feet in diameter. The head, eyes and mouth were not exaggerated, as would have been the fact with almost any amateur at the job. It was stuffed with cork and oak shavings, so nicely adjusted that it would float partly on or just below the surface, with the curving neck lifting the hideous head two or three feet above the water. The small waves gave a lifelike motion to the thing, which made it seem to be moving slowly through the water, when in fact it never progressed forward or backward, for its position was held immovably by an anchor.

“When the serpent was at last completed it was securely boxed and shipped to Portsmouth, six miles from the Isle of Shoals. Then it was towed at night to the right place, anchored and left to do its duty, which, as I have told you, it succeeded in doing to perfection. It is strange that the imposture was kept up for month after-month, and that it was seen and inspected by thousands, and yet no one really penetrated the clever deception. It was towed to the anchorage at night, and taken away again the next night to a secure hiding place. Those who had it in charge were too shrewd to overdo the trick. When the attention of the crowds threatened to become too warm, the serpent disappeared and was not again seen for a week or more. The general belief was that it had gone out to sea, but after a time some strange attraction drew it back into the field of vision of the swarms of visitors to the Appledore Hotel. As I said, the sea serpent disappeared for good in the autumn and this particular one was never seen again—that is, in its native element. I do not know what ultimately became of it.”

At this point in the narrative Uncle Elk paused, and it could be seen that he was smiling behind his beard.

“I now want to say something to you in confidence. You must be sure not to repeat it in the hearing of others. I gave you the names of the two men who built the sea serpent, but I have good reason to believe a third person had a hand in it. If you will question Keyes H. Richards, the proprietor of the Samoset House on Mouse Island, you will find that he knows all about it. I once asked him point blank if he did not have something to do with its construction, but I could not draw a direct answer from him. Therefore, I retain my suspicions.

“Last spring the twin brothers, Asa and Bige Carter of Boothbay, persuaded themselves that they could make a tidy sum of money by introducing a new sea serpent to the public. After they had completed it, they decided to make a preliminary test by bringing it to Gosling Lake and trying it on you Boy Scouts. They let me into the secret, and though much interested, I discouraged it. They lacked the artistic cleverness of Wilson and the trick was sure to be detected and quickly exposed. I met them on the shore of the lake and saw them tow it out a little way, and anchor it. It was not properly balanced, and while the body sank, the head rose to within a foot of the surface, but would not come any higher. When those two tramps happened to look over the edge of their canoe, you may perhaps imagine their terror at sight of the gently swaying monstrosity that seemed on the point of crushing the boat or them in its jaws. Never again will they be so overcome with blind panic.

“This incident, together with my earnest persuasions, induced the Carter boys to give up their scheme and to take away their sea serpent and consign it to oblivion.”

CHAPTER XVI — Zip

On the evening succeeding the interesting story told by Uncle Elk of the once famous sea serpent, the majority of the Boy Scouts were seated on the porch of the bungalow exchanging the day’s experiences. The half dozen detailed to prepare supper were as busy as they could be, for they like their waiting companions were exceedingly a-hungered. Some had spent hours in fishing for perch, bass, salmon, pickerel and lake trout; others had strolled through the fragrant, resinous woods, studying trees and bird life, and all had added to their splendid reserve of rugged health, exuberant animal spirits, and that genuine happiness which comes only with an upright life, clean habits and the constant seeking of an opportunity to do others a “good turn.”

The day had been an ideal one, overflowing with radiant sunshine, surcharged with ozone and with a sky of a crystalline clearness which Italy throughout all its historic centuries has never surpassed. The summer was drawing to a close; the nights were perceptibly longer, and there was a crisp coolness which increased after sunset and told of the coming of autumn and winter.

Scout Master Hall sat among his boys looking out upon the placid lake, the conversation rambling and not important enough to call for record. The chair in which Jack Crandall reclined while he talked had been carried inside by two of the Scouts, Doctor Spellman having advised that this should be done now that the weather was growing chilly.

Suddenly, Gerald Hume, of the Stag Patrol, who sat nearest to the end of the porch, said:

“Hello? we have a visitor.”

A general turning of heads followed. Coming along the beach from the direction of Uncle Elk’s home was a boy, probably fifteen or sixteen years old, rather tall for his age, dressed in khaki, with leggings, a close-fitting cap and short coat with belt around the waist. While his attire resembled in some respects that of the Boy Scouts, it was not the same. He swung a swagger or short cane in his right hand, and advanced with the elastic grace of an athlete. As he drew nearer it was seen that he had a pleasing face, with regular features, dark eyes and hair, and that air which while it cannot be described, yet reveals the polish and culture of the true gentleman.

Glancing aside at the boys who were busy with their culinary duties, he stepped lightly upon the porch and with a military salute called out:

“Good evening, boys; I am glad to meet you.”

Scout Master Hall and every youth sprang to their feet and made the regulation salute, the leader advancing and offering his hand.

“And I assure you we are all pleased to welcome you. You are in time to join us at supper and of course will stay over night. Are you alone?”

“I am; my name is George Burton and my home is in the city of New York. I am spending a week or two at the Hotel Samoset on Mouse Island, but must soon leave to meet my folks on their return from the other side.”

“Did you come from Mouse Island to-day?” inquired Scout Master Hall.

“I left there early this morning; crossed to Boothbay Harbor and then struck on foot, just as my brother and I did last summer in tramping through Switzerland. A farmer gave me a ride of several miles, when I resorted to shanks-mare again. Then I caught another ride—not quite so long as the former—until I came to the half-broken track through the woods, over which I believe the wagon labors that brings your supplies. I had heard that a party of Boy Scouts were stopping at the clubhouse, which I saw from the other side of the lake, so I skirted the sheet of water to this point.”

“That makes a pretty good tramp for one day,” remarked the Scout Master.

“I have done a good deal better, and I am sure it would not tax any one of you. You asked me a few minutes ago if I were alone; I am, but I expect soon to be joined by a friend.”

Young Burton laughed at the surprised looks turned toward him.

“He is my dog, named Zip.”

“He will be as welcome as his master,” said Mr. Hall.

“I know that and I thank you for us both.”

“It’s mesilf that is wondering why ye don’t kaap company,” said Mike Murphy; “me dad explained to Father Hoogan, as his rason for taking me wid him whereiver he wint, that he liked to have a pup at his heels whin he wandered round the country.”

The visitor smiled at the Irish lad’s drollery, and was on the point of answering the query, when the Scouts in charge of the dinner preparations announced that the meal was ready.

“We are all curious to hear your story, which we know is interesting,” remarked the Scout Master as he and the boys rose to their feet, “but nothing can be so attractive just now as the meal to which we have just been summoned.”

“I am of your opinion,” replied Burton, moving off with the others to the table.

“May I ask when you look for the arrival of your friend Zip?”

The guest took out his watch and glanced at its face.

“It is now half-past six; he ought to be here by seven; I must allow him some margin.”

Every one was puzzled, but made no comment. As the Scout Master had remarked, the question of satisfying their hunger dominated all others for the time.

Needless to say the whole party partook of the food with the satisfying enjoyment which waits on sound health and exuberant spirits. As Scout Master Hall quoted, all “ate like horses when you hear them eat,” the feast enlivened by continuous chatter, jest and merriment. Jack Crandall’s chair was wheeled to the table, and with a little help from his friends he did his part well. Less than half an hour thus passed, when the company adjourned to the front porch, the only absent ones being the half dozen who had to clean up and leave things ready for the morning meal. This work did not take long, and all were soon gathered together, the Scouts much interested in their guest, and what he told them about his dog Zip.

“He is a bloodhound,” he explained, “not quite two years old. The breed is not specially noted for its intelligence, but its delicacy or power of scent would be unbelievable had it not been proved over and over again. I hope to give you some demonstrations by my own dog, who is of pure breed, and with more brains than the generality of his kind.”

“Are you sure he will trail you to this place?” asked Scout Master Hall.

“There is not a particle of doubt about it. He has performed more difficult feats than that; in fact, I am trying to find something he cannot do, but so far haven’t succeeded.”

“Will you tell us the particulars of his present task?”

“I left Mouse Island this morning about seven o’clock on the Norman II, run by Captain Pinkham. Having made my arrangements with Manager Dodge, I explained to my friend Chester Greenleaf that Zip would be at the dock and board the boat at twenty minutes to two for the roundabout trip to Boothbay Harbor. I advised Greenleaf not to try to collect a ticket from Zip, as he might resent it, and the young man promised to bear the counsel in mind. All that was to be done was to take the pup to the wharf at Boothbay and leave him to do the rest.

“Zip didn’t like the idea of being left behind at Mouse, but he knew what was expected of him, and stood quietly on the dock as with a lugubrious expression he watched me go. I waved my hand at him, and he wagged his tail in return, as much as to say I couldn’t lose him in that fashion.

“Now,” said Burton animatedly, “consider what Zip has had to do. He left Mouse Island at twenty minutes to two o’clock this afternoon and reached Boothbay Harbor at about half past two, which was fully seven hours behind me. I’ll warrant he was the first one ashore, and in a twinkling picked up my trail and was speeding northward from the town. Two miles out he lost it for the time because I had a lift from a farmer, but Zip knew what that meant, and he loped on up the road, certain of discovering when I left the vehicle.”

“Is it possible,” asked Scout Master Hall, “that he could keep your scent while you were riding in a wagon?”

“I am not prepared to deny it, incredible as it may sound. A bloodhound has been known to trot twenty feet to one side of a trail along a broad highway, and not lose it for miles. Zip is so familiar with my scent that he may have detected it from the first. Be that as it may, he lost no time in nosing about the road, but detected the very spot where my foot again touched ground, and was after me like a thunderbolt. I had a second ride—not quite so long as the first—which brought me to the rough unbroken track over which your supply wagon brings your provisions. It was a long tramp to this place, and, as you know, the afternoon was gone when I arrived.”

“Did you make any attempts to throw him off your track?”

“No, for it was useless. Had a canoe been at hand I might have crossed the lake in it, but that would have been unfair, for of course no trail can be followed through water, since in the nature of things none can be made.

“Since I have been specially interested in this breed of dogs,” young Burton modestly added, “I may have picked up a few points that are not familiar to all of you.”

“There is no question as to that,” replied Scout Master Hall, “you have already proved it; you are telling us facts that are not only new to us but of special interest. All the boys feel as I do.”

A general murmur of assent followed.

“You are more complimentary than I deserve. While the bloodhound is not the most common breed of dogs in this country, I suppose most of you are familiar with his looks and history. They were once used in Cuba to track escaping prisoners and runaway slaves, and probably served the same purpose in some parts of the South before the Civil War, but in our country they were employed simply to track the negroes and were trained not to harm them, for, aside from the cruelty of the act, it was against the interests of the slave owner to injure his own property. In Cuba, the bloodhounds were like ravening tigers. The poor wretch in threshing through the thickets and swamps heard the horrible baying fast drawing nearer. His only escape was to leap among the limbs of a tree, and climb beyond reach of the brutes. If he was tardy in doing so, the black terror that burst through the undergrowth buried his fangs in his throat the next instant and never let go, no matter how desperately the man fought.”

“How was it when the poor fellow reached a perch?”

“The dogs sat down and waited until the pursuers came up and claimed the prisoner.”

“Suppose the slave took to water?”

“He was pretty sure to do that sooner or later, but it rarely availed against the marvelous scent of his enemies. After a time the man had to leave the creek or river, as it might be, and with two or three or more bloodhounds trotting along the bank with their muzzle to the ground, they were certain to pick up the scent with little or no loss of time.

“This peculiarly Spanish product became famous during the war with the Seminole Indians of Florida some seventy years ago. You know that those redskins retreated into the swamps and everglades where our soldiers could not follow them, or, if they followed, could not find them. The war dragged on year after year until the patience of the government was worn out. In its perplexity a number of Cuban bloodhounds were imported; and, although our officers took pains to declare that the dogs would be used to track and not to rend the Seminoles, an indignant protest went up against the barbarity of the act.

“But,” added young Burton with a laugh, “the crime, if it were such, worked its own remedy. Somehow or other the Indians learned to make friends with the black brutes which came to them in the swamps, and they trained them with so much skill that they used them to hunt down the stray soldiers and former owners. The use of bloodhounds in the Seminole war proved a farce.”

The guest suddenly ceased talking for a moment and said:

“It is time I heard from Zip.”

“Some accident may have befallen him or perhaps he has gone astray.”

“Both are improbable—listen!”

CHAPTER XVII — Wonderful Work

Absolute hush followed the exclamation of young Burton and, as all were intently listening, there sounded through the soft stillness of the night a strange, piercing cry,—the baying of a bloodhound following the trail of a person. It was neither a bark nor a growl, but a mixture of the two,—a deep howl that might well fill a fleeing fugitive with shivering fear.

“That’s Zip,” said his pleased owner; “he will be here in a few minutes.”

“He has a remarkable voice,” said Scout Master Hall; “I never heard the like.”

Mike Murphy, who had been one of the most absorbed of listeners and was seated near the guest, rose to his feet and emitted a cry which, so far as the listeners could tell, was an absolutely perfect imitation of that of the dog.

“That’s wonderful!” exclaimed Burton; “it would deceive any one except the dog himself.”

“And why not him?” asked Alvin Landon.

“Because he does not answer—there he comes!”

In the dim moonlight, as every eye was turned in the direction of the beach leading toward Uncle Elk’s cabin, the Scouts saw a black, medium sized dog approaching at full speed, his sturdy figure rapidly assuming definite form. It was to be noted that Burton had come through the wood itself, whereas the animal was traversing the beach, where the way was more open, yet he was keeping to the trail as unerringly as an arrow driven from the bow.

“Hide yourself,” whispered Mr. Hall.

“There is no place where I can hide from him.”

The next instant the hound with undiminished speed bounded up the steps at the end of the porch, dashed between the boys, and impinged with such force against his standing master that he was knocked backward for a pace or two. Bending over, Burton patted the big head, and Zip in his excess of delight bounded round the youth and wagged his tail so hard that it swayed his haunches correspondingly, and it really seemed an instance of the tail wagging the dog.

“Don’t you think Zip will appreciate something in the form of a meal?” asked Mr. Hall.

“He certainly will; a dog is always hungry, and more than half a day has passed since he ate; nothing suits him better than raw meat.”

“We have a supply, and he shall feast to his heart’s content.”

So he did, the food being brought out and placed in front of the canine guest, who would have eaten a good deal more had his master permitted. Meekly accepting the decision, Zip lay down at young Burton’s feet, contented and happy throughout the remainder of the evening, and glad to stay outside until the youth rejoined him in the morning.

“You know what matchless policemen the Belgian dogs make in that country, in France, and in New York and other cities. Some three years ago Long Island became so pestered by thieves that Robert E. Kerkham, superintendent of the railway police, saw that something drastic had to be done. The thieves dynamited station safes, burglarized private dwellings and more than once killed and injured railway policemen while they were trying to arrest the criminals. Those men used fleet horses and automobiles, and despite everything that could be done, grew bolder and more successful.

“Superintendent Kerkham, finding that his patrolmen were powerless, decided to call in the help of dogs, with whose striking success abroad and at home he was familiar, but he made a new departure by taking bloodhounds instead of the usual police dogs, for the former would not only guard property but would track the thieves. He bought a pair from the stock imported from England more than twenty years ago. These are of the purest blood, and superior to all others. Zip is from the same stock. A peculiarity of this dog is that in no circumstances will he take up a doubtful trail, but will pick up the true scent, no matter how faint, and never abandon it so long as it actually exists. They know not the meaning of fear, and will stick to their work so long as they can move or breathe. Some of those dogs have pedigrees that reach backward to the time of William the Conqueror.

“The couple which Mr. Kerkham purchased are named Bob and Nellie. They had to be trained, but they learned fast. They will take the scent from any article that has been lately handled by the person they are after.”

“How old a trail will serve them?” asked the Scout Master.

“Of course the freshest scent is the best. Zip was all of seven hours behind me to-day. I have tested him on double that time and he seemed to have little or no difficulty. They have taken a trail twenty-four hours old, and precisely what it is that guides them in such a case is more than any one can understand. A man is known to have left a house at a certain time, and twenty hours later it is decided to pursue him with the aid of a bloodhound. A glove, or hat, or shoe that he is known to have worn is held in front of the dog; he sniffs at it, dashes out of doors, circles back and forth and around the grounds until he strikes the corresponding scent; up goes his head, his tail wags and he bays his pleasure. A hundred yards farther, and he drops his nose to the ground to make sure he has not lost his clue.

“Perhaps the scent grows faint or disappears. In that case he runs back and circles about until he picks it up again, when he is off once more. You must remember that while all this is going on there is a man tugging at the leash, for this is necessary to protect the thief. As the trail grows fresher, the fierce eagerness of the hound increases; he knows he is close upon his quarry and sharp words and powerful pulling are necessary to prevent him from bounding straight at the throat of the cowering wretch. Should he start to run it is almost impossible to restrain the dog, but when he sees the criminal is under arrest, he is satisfied, becomes quiet, and is ready to tackle the next job.”

“Will you tell us of some of the exploits of Bob and Nellie, who you say are perfect specimens of their kind?”

“I cannot recall a quarter of them. One thing that Bob did was astonishing because it was at the beginning of his training and the scent was fourteen hours old. He caught it from a bag which the thieves had used to wrap about their hands in breaking a window. As true as the needle to the pole, Bob led his master through alleys and side streets, across vacant lots, along the purlieus of a straggling village to a house near the highway. This was circled once, and then he dashed to a barn at the rear, through the open door, and sprang at a young man who was engaged in skinning a muskrat he had trapped.

“The fellow was indignant and denied all knowledge of the crime, declaring that he did not know where the freight house was located, but Bob’s trainer was certain the dog was right, and searched the place. All the missing property was found in a trunk, and the thief is now in Sing Sing, convicted on the testimony of the dog.

“Last summer a farmer in Kansas was murdered and a pack of hounds were put on the trail. They led the trainers and officers through a broken country for six miles, never hesitating or turning aside for a minute, until they reached a house where a man lived who had never been suspected. He was arrested, corroborative evidence obtained, and he was convicted by the Supreme Court of the state and executed.

“One night the safe of the Hicksville station on the Long Island Railroad was blown open and the contents stolen. Three of the dogs were brought up the next day a little before noon and put on the trail, about twelve hours after the robbery had been committed.”

“It seems to me,” remarked Scout Master Hall, “that in all such cases the hounds are very liable to blunder.”

“Why?”

“There must be a good many tracks about the premises; how can they differentiate those of the thieves?”

“They took the scent without the least difficulty from the window through which the robbers had entered and from the articles they had handled. Tugging at their leashes, the hounds led their masters up the railway track for an eighth of a mile, and then turned off across the open country to the trolley track, which they followed to the next stop, where the trail ended. Inquiries brought out the fact that the car had stopped there about midnight,—something which it rarely did. Having boarded it, the thieves made their escape, and that became one of the few instances in which the skill of the bloodhounds came to naught.

“But the dogs were not allowed to rust for want of work. Long Island gave them plenty to do, and continues to do so. When word came to headquarters that the station at Warwick Street on the Atlantic Division of the railway had been broken into and robbed, the dogs were put on the job with the least possible delay. They found the trail without trouble, and skurried down Atlantic Avenue to Logan Street, where the canines halted for consultation, since they had to face new conditions.

“These wonderful brutes had been instant to detect that two thieves were concerned in the crime. At the point named, the trail divided, and of course the pursuers did the same. Our old friend Bob trotted along until he reached No. 129, where he sat down, threw up his head and began howling. Jim, the other dog, kept on to No. 219, where he joined in the dismal chorus. The two were on the same side of the street, not very far apart, and must have made a striking picture, as from their different stations they serenaded some persons within. I can’t help wondering,” added young Burton with a laugh, “whether the thieves noticed that howling, and peeping out of the windows suspected what it meant.

“The trainers thought it possible a mistake had been made, and the dogs were taken back to the station and given the scent again. They followed it as unerringly as before, but oddly enough when they came to the forking of the trail, Bob and Jim changed places. It was as if one had proposed the shift to the other, who accepted it offhand.

“Doubting no longer, the officers arrested a schoolboy in each house, whom the dogs identified. They confessed their guilt, and one was sent to the Juvenile Asylum at Dobbs Ferry and the other to the Elmira Reformatory.

“Now,” said Burton, whose enthusiasm was natural, “can any one understand what it is that guides the bloodhound? Of course it is some sort of emanation, but how subtle it must be, and how fine the sense that can identify it among scores of others! In the incident I have just related, the trail led through busy streets, where hundreds of men, women and animals had trodden upon the invisible footprints, each with his or her peculiar odor, which lingered for hours, and was as distinct to the dogs as the call of a megaphone is to us. It is beyond my comprehension.”

“It is beyond the comprehension of any one,” added Mr. Hall. “Bertillon has proved that the thumb prints of no two persons are the same, and so the scent of every one has a peculiarity of its own, but that doesn’t lessen our wonder.

“There is no end to the proofs that have been given of their miraculous power.”

“The dogs, I suppose, seem to enjoy tracking a criminal?”

“It is their delight. Although not credited with a high order of intelligence, they know as well as their trainers what is expected of them, and enter into it with as much gusto as you boys do your vacation.”

“Is a criminal when overtaken by the dogs in danger of being hurt by them?”

“It depends upon himself. If he continues to run and puts up a fight they will attack him. If he quietly submits, they will mount guard and hold him unharmed until their master comes up and takes the criminal into custody. Then the dogs, seeing that that particular task is finished, show by their behavior that they are as eager as ever for their next job. But, for safety’s sake, they are generally held in leash, master and dog keeping company.”

“How is it with Zip?”

“He always runs free, and will not harm a fugitive unless ordered to do so. You understand that he and I are chums, and I have never used him to chase a criminal. He roams through the country, and I keep him on edge by such tests as to-day. He is so familiar with my scent that he will pick it up instantly, without first sniffing articles I have worn. The other day I played a mean trick on him. I left him at the Samoset House on Mouse Island and started for Boothbay Harbor on the steamer Wiwurna, but instead of getting off at the wharf, I slipped over the gunwale at the rear, and Captain Free McKown took me on board his motor boat Edith which was lying near, and started back to Mouse Island with me. Just before reaching the dock I met the Norman II starting for Boothbay and seated on his haunches at the prow was Zip. I was not expecting to see him and I should have got out of sight, but he discovered me and emitted the most dissatisfied howl I ever heard. It said as plain as so many words, ‘You played me a low down trick, and I don’t like it.’ He would have sprung overboard and tried to swim to me, had I not forbidden him. Perforce he went on to Boothbay and came back on the Norman II. I was in my room when he scratched on my door and I admitted him. He was so mad that he refused to eat the meat prepared for him, and pouted the rest of the day. I apologized and coaxed, and by night had won back his favor and the cloud between us passed away.”