CHAPTER XI
A Night in the Woods
“To the shore, Pop!” Roy yelled, realizing that The Pup had seen them and it would be useless to hope to catch him unawares. “Wait, Teddy—” He saw that the boy had drawn his gun and that his eyes were blazing. “Don’t shoot! You may hit the horse! And, anyway, we don’t want to kill the skunk! We want to capture him, if we can.”
Unfortunately their craft was almost directly in the middle of the stream, some two hundred feet from the shore. The figure on horseback had disappeared, but Roy hoped that, due to the tangle of brush, Marino might not be able to retreat before they could land. Pop set his teeth and leaned on his paddle, and Teddy did the same. But they were not working together, and the boat started to swing crazily.
“Wait till I get in with you, Pop!” Teddy gasped. “This blame current! It sure is strong!”
Gradually the canoe neared the shore. But by that time all four realized that their attempt was doomed to failure. The Pup had surely seen them and had got away.
“I guess we lose,” Roy sighed, while he mopped his face with his handkerchief, for Teddy’s efforts had splashed him considerably. “Let up, boys. No use to land now. Besides, those rocks would make hash of the boat.” He pointed to some sharp-edged boulders along the bank. “No soap. What a fine time to be in the middle of a river! Bet The Pup is snickering up his sleeve by this time. It’s a wonder he didn’t wave good-bye at us,” and Roy laughed bitterly.
“Merry Christmas!” Bug Eye remarked, and looked about him comically. “I am still among those present. Now, if it ain’t too much trouble, will you kindly explain this muddle to a poor man what ain’t got his right health?”
“Do you mean to say you didn’t see him?” Teddy asked in amazement.
“Who? The Pup? I seen nobody, an’ very little of him. I was sittin’ here peaceful-like, maybe dozin’ a bit, as boys will do, when all of a sudden I hears a yell, gets a free shower bath, an’ wakes up to see Teddy an’ Pop paddlin’ like a couple of crazy men. Then I hears some one say ‘The Pup,’ an’ I looks, but don’t see a soul. Now, I ask you: what happened?”
“Why, we saw Joe Marino!” Roy exclaimed excitedly. “And he was on the horse he stole from our corral! I spotted him first, and tipped off Teddy. We tried to make the shore, but the current was too swift. So I guess he’s plenty far by this time. What a break!”
“Yo’re sure it was him?” Bug Eye asked curiously.
“Positive!” Teddy declared. “I saw him as plain as I see you now. He was on our bronc, facing the river. Probably just watered the horse. Then, when he saw us he turned and beat it—disappeared like a shadow. Pop, you saw him, didn’t you?”
The old puncher nodded forcibly.
“Sure did,” he agreed. “But I was too blame busy to say anything. I had all I could do to try an’ keep this fool boat straight, an’ I didn’t make out so well at that. We’re a bunch of dubs, I reckon,” he admitted reluctantly.
“Well, if yo’re sure you saw him, why don’t you land an’ have a look?” Bug Eye inquired eagerly.
Teddy snorted.
“What for? Just to see the scenery? Marino is gone by now. We haven’t as much of a chance as a fish on a desert of finding him.”
“Let’s see! Ain’t that what some one said a while ago?” came from Bug Eye. “Seems to me I heard a voice say he would try fer the Border, an’ that this part of the country would see him no more,” and he looked quizzically at Pop.
“Dry up,” Pop said succinctly. “We all make mistakes. But if you want to, Roy, we’ll land an’ take a look. Think it would do any good?”
“Not a bit,” Roy decided. “We’d only waste our time. I wonder if that waddy could have been following us?”
“Hardly, if he didn’t know we were here,” Teddy replied. “And it’s a cinch we surprised him, because he ducked like a scared rabbit. Nope, we just happened to run across him, that’s all. If we had only been on land!”
“If the cow hadn’t stopped to chase a fly off her back, the train wouldn’t have hit her,” Roy retorted facetiously. “Suppose we had caught The Pup? What would we have done with him?”
“Plenty,” Teddy answered. “Gotten some of dad’s four hundred smackies back, anyway. He can’t have spent it all this soon. Chances are, he’s got most of it with him.”
“What he ain’t spent fer booze,” Bug Eye interjected contemptuously. “The Pup ain’t worth the powder to blow him up, though I’d chip in my little bit to stand part of the expense if any one wanted to try it,” he chuckled. “Well, I guess you can kiss the money goodbye, Roy. An’ the bronc too. Whatever you say about The Pup, he sure can ride, an’ he’ll be ridin’ fer election by now. You boys tired paddlin’? I’ll spell one of yuh, if yuh wants me to.”
Pop accepted his offer, and once more the canoe slid on toward the rapids, still many miles downstream. There was much talk of the possibility of seeing The Pup again, and Teddy was in favor of unlimbering one of the rifles that lay in the bottom of the boat on the chance. But Roy vetoed this idea, saying it was very necessary that they keep the guns dry and clean.
“Those rifles are our dinner-checks, you know,” he added. “When we land, we’ve got to look lively and do a bit of hunting if we want to eat. Sun’s almost down. We ought to make camp shortly. Soon as you see a likely spot, Bug Eye, head for it.”
There was a run of some fifteen minutes while not a word was spoken. The only sound was the regular dip, dip, dip of the paddles, propelling the canoe onward. Pop, the extremist, was either so talkative that he’d “gab the ear off a brass monkey,” to use Nick Looker’s expression, or else he kept strict silence. Bug Eye was content to dream of the possibilities of his Fishmobile, and Teddy was wondering how his father was making out.
“They ought to be about in a line with us,” the boy thought, “though far back behind those mountains. Hope they reach the cattle about the time we get there. If that herd has done much wandering—” He shook his head dubiously.
If they had traveled that far off their own range, there was no telling how much farther they would go. Teddy hoped they would travel beyond the danger of the landslide the stranger had told about.
Roy’s thoughts were in a rather chaotic condition. The discovery of The Pup had bothered him more than he cared to admit. Why was it he was headed toward the Whirlpool River Ranch—Jake Trummer’s place? Of course, it might be that he took that route because it offered the greatest protection. Unconsciously Roy echoed Pop Burns’ thoughts, and decided that the heavy brush along the river would certainly be ideal for the concealment of a fugitive.
Presently his cogitations were interrupted by Bug Eye, who called out:
“How about this place ahead? Me, I’m gettin’ hungry! All right, Roy?”
“Sure, I guess so.” Roy gazed at the small cove, then nodded. “Fine, Bug Eye. Get her up close, and I’ll hop out and pull the canoe up. Steady—”
He leaped to the bank and grasped the bow of the craft. This he held while the others stood up and tossed the blankets, food, and rifles on the shore. Then the canoe was drawn up until it was nearly out of water.
“She stood up well,” Teddy remarked, looking down at the boat. “To-morrow will tell. We’ll hit the rapids then, and give the ole raft a good try-out. Oh, baby, I’m stiff!” He stretched high and wide. “I’d hate to live in a canoe.”
“I’d hate to live in a suitcase, too, but why worry about things like that?” Roy laughed. “Here, you navigator, see what you find.” He handed his brother a rifle. “If you catch anything less than three inches, throw ’em back.”
“Now, by golly, that’s an idea!” Teddy exclaimed. “Fishing with a rifle. I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never seen it done. I’d like to try it.”
“How do you mean?” Pop asked interestedly, ceasing from his labors of untying the blanket roll.
“Why, shoot the fish!”
The old man cackled sarcastically.
“You heard of it, hey? Well, I’ve heard of a willyloo bird, too, but I never seen any. But go right ahead. Have yore fun.”
“Just to show you it can be done, I will!” Teddy declared, and strode resolutely to the water’s edge. “What would you like, trout or pickerel?”
“Chocolate.” Bug Eye responded, with a grin. “Let ’er ride, Teddy.”
The boy peered keenly down at the stream. The others grouped themselves eagerly around Teddy, while the sun, almost at the horizon, threw a cloth of gold upon the water.
Suddenly Teddy saw a silver flash about five feet out. He brought the gun to his shoulder and took careful aim.
Crack!
“Get him?” Pop asked excitedly, forgetting his former declaration of unbelief.
“Wait a minute,” Teddy grinned. “Give me time. There—what’s that?”
He pointed toward a spot a little out from where they were standing. Bug Eye gave a yell.
“A fish, sure as shootin’! An’ dead! Teddy, yo’re a wonder! I’ll get that one for you!” Shoes and all, he waded into the stream and seized the trout that floated on the surface of the river.
“Boy, it’s a wonder!” Pop exclaimed, as Bug Eye held the fish up for inspection. The veteran rancher gazed at Teddy and shook his head. “One too many for me,” he muttered. “You win, Teddy!”
“Golly, it did work, didn’t it?” the young lad marveled, touching his prize. “What do you think of that, Roy?”
“I think you’re the luckiest boy in seven counties,” his brother laughed. “But, anyway, we’ve got our supper, and we’ll give you credit, Ted. Hail to the chief!” and he bowed low. “May he continue to have much success in his chosen career.”
“It’s the concussion,” Teddy remarked, apropos of nothing. “The bullet hits the water, and the shock stuns the fish. At least that’s the technical explanation of the phenomenon,” and he pretended to choke over the long words. “But I suppose it’s useless to tell you birds that. Come on, let’s eat.”
Had it not been for the fact that the mission before them was of such a weighty nature, the memory of that supper underneath the sky on the banks of the river would have remained in the minds of Teddy and Roy as one of the happiest they had ever enjoyed. But they could not entirely throw off the responsibility that burdened them, and behind all the jests that enlivened the meal was a feeling that this was superficial, and, at most, a respite. Still, worry does not sit long on young shoulders, and the occasion was a jolly one.
Supper over, they saw to it that the boat was safe from possible attacks by the turbulent river. Then, wrapping themselves tightly in their blankets, the four cast themselves down upon nature’s bed. The light from their dying campfire flickered eerily, casting strange shadows. Above them the wind caressed the tree tops, humming or whistling as trees will.
And far down the stream, under these same stars, rode a man with a haunted look on his face—a man on a stolen pony and with four hundred dollars in bills in his pocket.
He heard no whispering winds, saw no stars; the river to him was no friend, nor could he find comfort in the prospect of a camp by the side of a stream.
But he soon must stop, for even he must rest and give respite to the wearily lagging pony.