“One reason why I deferred our talk about birds,” said Uncle Elk, addressing the troop of Boy Scouts who had gathered in the large room of the bungalow the next evening, “is that you might have more opportunity to brighten up your knowledge on the subject. Scout Master Hall tells me that when you learned you were to spend your vacation in southern Maine, you started in to inform yourselves about the birds which are to be found in New England. It is impossible under the circumstances that you should see them all, for the season is not the most favorable and not even a majority are to be found in this section. Instead of dealing out a lot of facts, I am going to ask you do it for me. Secretary Rothstein has given me a list of all the Boy Scouts who are present. There are too many of you for me to identify separately, so I shall call upon you at random. I think,” he added with a sly glance at the invalid on his right, “that I shall except Jack, since he seems to know all about our feathered inhabitants and would be simply taking my place.
“Starting with Mr. Hall’s Patrol I call upon his leader, Charles A. Chase, to name the first order as it is generally accepted.”
The alert young man promptly arose and said:
“It is the raptores, which means robbers.”
“What does it include?”
“The falcons proper, hawks, buzzard-hawks, eagles, horned owls, gray owls and day owls.”
“Very good. Corporal George Robe will name the second order.”
The plump little fellow blushed but did not hesitate.
“Scansores or climbers, which takes in cuckoos and woodpeckers.”
“The third order is so numerous that I can hardly expect any one to remember the complete list. Will Kenneth Henke name the third order?”
“I will ask Kenneth Mitchell, Robert Snow and Ernest Oberlander to help you in making out a complete catalogue.”
While these boys did well, they would not have succeeded but for the aid of Colgate Craig and Robert Rice. Even then Uncle Elk had to supply several names, for the long list included humming birds, goatsuckers, screamers, kingfishers, flycatchers, singers, thrushes, mocking birds, wrens, warblers, tanagers, swallows, shrikes, skylarks, sparrows, orioles, blackbirds, crows, jays and some others less known.
Alvin Landon had an easy task with the rasores or scratchers, which embrace the doves, game birds such as the Canada grouse, spruce partridge, pinnated grouse, ruffed grouse improperly called the partridge, Virginia partridge, quail and Bob White.
Chester Haynes gave the fifth order as grallatores or waders, which with its herons, shore birds, plovers, snipes, sandpipers and others are known to every one.
The sixth and last order as named by Hubert Wood was the natores or swimmers, with the principal of which every American boy is familiar. Hubert, with the assistance of Harold Hopkins, named swans, geese, several kinds of ducks, gulls, terns, divers, loons and grebes.
“That is a pretty full list,” commented Uncle Elk, “but it may be that Michael has some other waders in mind.”
“That I hev,” responded the Irish youth springing to his feet; “the first time Alvin and Chester tried to paddle a canoe it tipped over wid ’em—they lacking the sense I showed—and the water not being deep the same was waders for the time.”
Mike did not smile as he resumed his seat on the floor, though every one else did.
“Let me remind you,” added Uncle Elk, “that we have simply named the six orders, without any attempt to particularize. To illustrate will you name a bird?”
Some one called:
“Let’s talk about the thrush.”
“Very well; its head is a clear cinnamon brown, the under parts white, sometimes tinged with buff on the breast and thickly marked beneath except on the chin and throat. The sides of the head are a dark brown, streaked with white, with maxillary streaks on each side of the throat. It is a trifle over eight inches long, the wings being a little more than half of that, and the eggs are usually four in number, of a uniform light-blue color, without spots and showing a slight tint of green.
“The song thrush is common in Rhode Island, Connecticut and Massachusetts, but is not often seen in the other New England States. I have had persons say they saw and heard them in this section, when it was either the hermit or olive-backed thrush. You may look for their return from the South about the tenth of May, the two sexes coming at the same time.
“The great charm of the thrush is its wonderful voice. Hardly has it arrived when you hear the sweet notes of the male at early dawn or when twilight is coming on. Very rarely is it heard in the middle of the day, unless the sky is overcast. The best description of that which cannot be described is by Nuttall, which so impressed me when I first read it that I have never forgotten the words. He says:
“‘The prelude to this song resembles almost the double-tonguing of the flute, blended with a tinkling, shrill, and solemn warble, which re-echoes from his solitary retreat like the dirge of some recluse, who shuns the busy haunts of life. The whole air consists usually of four parts, or bars, which succeed in deliberate tune, finally blending together in impressive and soothing harmony, becoming more mellow and sweet at every repetition. Rival performers seem to challenge each other from various parts of the wood, vying for the favor of their mates with sympathetic responses and softer tones. And some, waging a jealous strife, terminate the warm dispute by an appeal to combat and violence. Like the robin and the thresher, in dark and gloomy weather when other birds are sheltered and silent, the clear notes of the wood thrush are heard through the dripping woods from dawn to dusk; so that the sweeter and more constant is his song. His clear and interrupted whistle is likewise often nearly the only voice of melody heard by the traveler to midday, in the heat of summer, as he traverses the silent, dark and wooded wilderness, remote from the haunts of men.’
“You have all been charmed by the music of this bird and will agree that this description, while it falls short of the reality, cannot be excelled. Now, in your rambles you have seen birds with gorgeous plumage; which one do you consider the most beautiful of all?”
After some discussion, the majority pronounced in favor of the scarlet tanager.
“Most persons will agree with you, but my preference is for what is popularly known as the wood duck, which builds its nests in trees and in size and habits resembles the common duck. The colors shown in the feathers of this bird to my mind are simply bewildering in their beauty.
“But to return to the tanager. He is found in all parts of New England but more frequently in the southern portions. A noticeable fact about this tanager is that it seems to be extending its range. I hear that it has been seen for the first time in sections where those familiar with its habits never expected to find it. Will Arthur Mitchell tell me when it arrives from the South and about its nesting?”
The lad appealed to rose and replied:
“It comes north about the middle of May, looks around for two weeks or so and then begins building its nest. It prefers oak groves situated near swamps. The nest is placed on the horizontal limb of a tree not more than twenty feet above ground.”
“What of the eggs?”
“They vary from three to five in number, and are of a light greenish blue with spatters of purplish brown. It belongs to the order of perehers.”
“Is the tanager a useful bird?”
“It is; the males destroy thousands of insects and though the song isn’t noteworthy, it is pleasant to hear.”
“Will Gordon Calhoun give a general description of this bird?”
“The wings and tail of the male are like black silk velvet, but the main color is a brilliant blood red. The female wears a more sober dress.”
When the rambling talk had continued for some time longer, Scout Master Hall asked Uncle Elk to tell them something about bird migration.
“That is an interesting subject over which I with thousands have speculated and theorized without learning much. It is easy to understand why the geese from the extreme north hike south with the approach of the arctic winter, and why many others in more temperate latitudes do the same, coming north with the return of spring, but some of the migrations are beyond explanation. I should like to ask what birds make the longest flights?”
Scout Master Hall and Jack Crandall expressed their views, but the old man shook his head.
“Since all of you did no more than guess, it was a waste of time. Now follow me closely. We have no large maps here to place on the wall for you to study, but you have a fair knowledge of geography and can draw a mental map that will serve. Picture a map of the western hemisphere. Have you done so?”
A general nodding of heads.
“You didn’t nod, Mr. Hall.”
“I have the map before my mind’s eye,” replied the Scout Master; “I am following you.”
“Since the discovery of the North Pole, you have all become familiar with the contour of the polar regions. Locate the Arctic Islands in, say seventy-five degrees north latitude; then draw an imaginary line from those islands down along the coast of Labrador, across to Newfoundland, and down to Nova Scotia, then over the Atlantic to the Lesser Antilles in the West Indies, from there to Brazil and across Argentina and end your line in Patagonia at the extremity of South America.
“You have mentally swept over a tremendous stretch of country and water, but are not yet through. Push on westward to the Pacific, northward up the coast, then across Central America and up the Mississippi Valley, through central Canada and back to the Arctic Islands from which you started. Truly a long journey and yet it is the yearly itinerary of the American golden plover, which, measured in miles, is three-fifths of the distance round the world.”
“You have mentioned one of the most remarkable facts in natural history,” commented Mr. Hall, who, like every listener, was deeply impressed.
“Quite true,” replied Uncle Elk, “though there are many equally inexplicable. I have sometimes fancied that birds resemble men in their longing for travel. With means of locomotion at their command still far beyond the skill of our best aviators, what wonder that our little brothers of the air are impelled to gather the best that can be secured?
“This, however, is a fanciful theory which the naturalists will not accept. It must be remembered that the majority of golden plovers who start on this long journey never complete it, for almost every mile is attended with danger. They are dazzled by the vivid electric lights of the cities, and confused by the tall buildings, telephone and telegraph wires, especially on dark nights when the birds fly low. Thousands are thus killed, besides which adverse gales blow many out to sea, and blizzards and snowstorms destroy myriads.
“Perhaps we have talked enough about birds,” said Uncle Elk, “but I shall be glad to answer any questions that may occur to you.”
After a moment’s silence, Mike Murphy rose to his feet. His face, as usual, was serious even when about to indulge in some of his waggeries, but this time he was in earnest.
“Maybe it’s mesilf that knows mighty little about birds excipt them as is met with in Ireland, which isn’t many. There is one that I once heerd of that belongs to anither counthry.”
“Describe it, Michael,” remarked the old man indulgently.
“It has the bill of a duck, webbed feet, lays eggs, has a furry body and I belave is what is called a mammal. It’s a mighty qu’ar bird that I’d like to know the name of.”
In answer to the general smiles Uncle Elk asked:
“Have you ever seen one of the creatures, Michael?”
“Not that I know of, though I have often made search for ’em.”
“Michael has described no fancy creation. Such a thing exists. Can any one tell me its name?”
Isaac Rothstein replied:
“It is the ornithorhynchus or water mole of Australia, but it is not classed as a bird.”
“No, although there seems to be some reason why it should be. You see what a limitless field opens before you when you leave the American continent to make investigations elsewhere. For a long time to come we shall find our hands full in our own country.”
“What about the birds that are called Indians?” gravely asked Mike.
“There are some facts regarding Maine Indians which are worth remembering. In 1612, they numbered 38,000. At the close of the French and Indian War this number had been reduced to a thousand, which is the aboriginal population to-day. The decrease was due to the fierce wars which the tribes waged among themselves. The Indians in Maine were four times as numerous as those in Massachusetts. The Pine Tree State was the ‘dark and bloody ground’ of colonial days.
“In a general way the tribes bore the same names as rivers. Those west of the Penobscot were of the Abnaki group, and those to the east into New Brunswick called themselves Etechemins. All belonged to the Algonquin nation. When King Philip’s War broke out in 1675, the Maine Indians numbered about 12,000. This was twice the white population and sufficient to wipe out the settlements nearly to the New Hampshire border. Finally, in 1759, the Indians in Maine did not number more than a thousand. They were mainly Penobscots and Passamaquoddies. They remained faithful to the Americans throughout the Revolution. It is a curious fact that while the Passamaquoddies have decreased in number during the last ninety years, the Penobscots have increased to the extent of seven, the former being slightly more numerous. Both keep up their tribal conditions, and the Penobscots live in the same village site that their forefathers occupied before the white men set foot on the continent.”
That night, after Uncle Elk had left the bungalow, Alvin Landon, Chester Haynes and Mike Murphy held what Alvin called a council of war.
Sauntering a little way from the building, they sat down in the silent depths of the woods where no one could overhear what was said by them. Not that a Boy Scout would be guilty of eavesdropping, but it was best that no inkling of what was in the air should become accidentally known to others.
Without quoting all the conversation, let me make clear its substance. The three were so mystified by the incidents already told that they determined not to cease their efforts until the puzzle was solved. They were the only Boy Scouts who knew the particulars, and it was natural that their friends should give their chief interest to fishing, rambling in the forest, studying trees, picking up what they could of natural history, and laying in unnecessary stores of health and strength.
One thing was certain: Uncle Elk knew the secret and he wouldn’t tell. More than that, Chester Haynes startled his chums by the declaration:
“So does Mr. Hall,—at least I am pretty sure he does.”
“What reason have you for thinking that?” asked the astonished Alvin.
“I have seen them more than once whispering in a way that showed they were keenly interested.”
“Did you hear anything that either said?”
“Not a word.”
“How do you know then to what they were referring?”
“I don’t; I’m only guessing.”
“I belave ye’re right,” added Mike; “I obsarved the same thing and had the same ’spicion, and would have spoke of it if Chest hadn’t got ahead of me. But I’m thinking that if Mr. Hall knows it all, why the mischief doesn’t he tell us afore we bust?”
“For the simple reason that Uncle Elk has bound him to secrecy. No; what we find out must be done without the help of either.”
“And we’ll doot!” exclaimed Mike, “or we’ll break a trace trying.”
“How shall we go about it?” asked Alvin. “Whatever we do must be done without either of them, especially Uncle Elk, knowing it.”
“And there’s the rub.”
Bring three bright-witted boys together and let them concentrate their mental energies upon the solution of a problem, and even if they don’t succeed, they are sure to evolve something worth while.
“It is useless to apply to Mr. Hall,” said Alvin, “for nothing could induce him to violate the confidence of another. But Uncle Elk holds the master key and can speak when he chooses.”
“Which the same is the rule with most folks,” commented Mike.
“Now, see here,” put in Chester; “he has shown a fondness for you——”
“Can ye name any one of me acquaintances that hasn’t?” interrupted the wag.
“Why can’t you set to work and coax it out of him?”
“Begorra! haven’t I tried more than once. I’ve hinted and asked him straight out until I’m in the fix of Phil Rafferty.”
“What was that?”
“Phil took a notion that he could butt ivery other admirer of Bridget Mulrooney off the track. He kipt at it till one day he towld me he had a dim ’spicion that Bridget and her big brother Tarn and her dad of the same name, not forgitting Bridget her-silf, weren’t as fond of him as they oughter be. They had dropped purty plain hints and the last time Phil called, Bridget remarked sorter off-hand like, that she niver wanted to see his ugly mug agin. Her brother kicked him off the porch and flung him over the fence and the owld gintleman set their dog on him, which the same nearly choked in trying to swaller the seat of his pants. Phil said he was beginnin’ to ’spicion that the family took as a whole, didn’t love him as they oughter. It’s the same wid Uncle Elk and me. He’s riddy to talk on anything excipt the raison them two tramps was scared into taking a bath, and he won’t throw any light on that p’int.”
“Then there is no use of either of us trying.”
“I could hev towld ye that long ago.”
Once more it was Chester who showed the most subtlety.
“Uncle Elk knows that Mike is doing all he can to solve the puzzle; he knows he’ll not stop trying till he learns the truth; if Alvin and I keep him company, he will understand that we have joined forces. It will be as easy for him to baffle us three when we are together as to defeat any one of us. Therefore we ought to separate and each push the hunt for himself.”
“Ye’ve hit it!” exclaimed Mike, “and to encourage ye in good works and to show ye the honor ye oughter hev, I offers ye me hand.”
He gravely extended his palm in the gloom and it was warmly shaken.
Let a party of boys engage in some plot—and the same is true of adults—and their chief fear is that it will be discovered and defeated by someone else more or less interested. No precaution must be neglected. It was agreed by our friends that no one of them should drop a word in the hearing of others that could rouse curiosity, and not to show by their manner that anything unusual was on their minds.
One question considered was whether Dr. Spellman should be taken into their confidence. He had witnessed the panic of the tramps and was as curious as the boys to learn its cause. Alvin disposed of the matter.
“I don’t see how he can be of any help and he doesn’t wish to leave his home too long since the trouble he had with the bums. Uncle Elk, for some reason, hates the doctor; the two would be pretty sure to meet if the doctor joined forces with us, and the consequences would be bad. Say what you please, Uncle Elk has a queer twist in his brain, and I dread doing anything that will excite him. Let us work independently of every one else.”
“I’m wid ye,” assented Mike, and Chester agreed.
This much decided upon, the particulars of the plan remained to be arranged. Mike proposed that he should saunter off alone to the western end of the lake, near where Alvin and Chester had gone in the canoe during the day, and there with no companion should set himself to learn what he could. The others would take the opposite course, which would lead them to the home of Uncle Elk. They had no intention of questioning the old man or even letting him know what they had in mind, but would employ their wits as opportunity offered.
Nothing would have been more pleasing than for Mike to use the canoe to reach the western end of the lake, but he decided that the safest course was for all three to let the boats alone. The hermit would doubtless be on the watch and would know the errand of the lads.
“Do we need to have signals?” asked Chester.
“What for?” inquired Alvin in turn.
“If one of us finds out something, he will want to tell the others.”
“I don’t see how the plan can work, for we shall be so far apart that any call we make will be heard by some of the Scouts and may give the whole thing away. Whatever comes to light can wait till we meet here after supper to-night.”
Mike, who had been thoughtful for a minute or two, now spoke:
“We thought that being Mr. Hall’s lips are closed, Uncle Elk is the only one that can ixplain the queer actions of Biggs and Hutt, but Uncle Elk isn’t the only one.”
“Who else can do so?”
“Biggs and Hutt.”
“That is true,” said Alvin, “but I don’t believe they would show any more willingness than Uncle Elk. Besides, after such a fright as they got yesterday, they are probably miles away at this minute and still running.”
“Which doesn’t signify that they won’t come back again. One would think they would have taken the warning Dr. Spellman gave them, but they didn’t. I believe there is going to be more trouble with those two scamps,” said Chester impressively.
“They’ve got to behave thimselves,” added Mike with more feeling than he had yet shown, “or I’ll git Mr. Hall to lead the whole troop agin ’em.”
“You know the Boy Scouts are opposed to all violence.”
“And so’m I, excipt whin it’s yer dooty to lambaste the ither chap, as whin he drops a hint that he doesn’t think ye’re able to doot. If Biggs and Hutt go to stealing or stepping too hard on us, do ye ixpect we’re going to grin and bear it?”
“Without answering that question,” remarked Alvin, “let me suggest that if any one of us happens to meet either or both the hoboes, he does his best to get an explanation from them. If you don’t succeed, no harm will be done.”
“Good counsel,” commented Chester, “but I don’t believe it will bring any result.”
“We mustn’t neglect anything——”
“Whisht!” interrupted Mike, suddenly laying his hand on the arm of this comrade.
All three became silent, and each distinctly heard faint footfalls from a point deeper in the wood.
“Some one has been listening,” whispered Alvin, “but he couldn’t have heard anything.”
“And what if he did?” asked Chester; “we have no enemies in this part of the world.”
Mike had started in the direction of the suspicious sound. He did not take time to soften the noise of his feet, and the stranger thus warned hurried away. Evidently he was a better woodman than his pursuer, for he got over the ground faster. Mike caught a glimpse of him in the star-gleam, as he emerged on the beach and ran off. A few minutes later the Irish youth rejoined his friends.
“Do you know who it was?” asked Alvin.
“No; he didn’t spake nor look back. I thought it best to return to ye.”
“Why?”
“I hadn’t me shillaleh wid me, and I was in too much danger of overhauling the spalpeen.”
What may be called a minor mystery was settled within a few minutes after Alvin, Chester and Mike came out of the wood and sat down for a brief while on the porch. Most of the other Boy Scouts had gone inside for the night, though the murmur of voices showed the majority were awake. The laugh of Scout Master Hall was heard in response to some jest, he being, as has been said, as much of a youngster as the most youthful of the troop.
A tall form loomed to view in the starlight, and coming up the steps sat down beside Mike with a greeting to all three. He was recognized as Hoke Butler, a member of the Stag Patrol.
“If you had run a little faster,” he remarked with a loud laugh, “you surely would have overtaken me, Mike.”
“Why didn’t ye slack up and give me the chance? Me legs ain’t as long as yours.”
“I did put on the brakes, but you turned back.”
“I’d come to the belaif that if ye didn’t want me company, I shouldn’t force mine upon ye, so I quit. What were ye doing in the wood behind us?”
“I was strolling behind the bungalow when I heard voices and was stealing up to learn who you were when you heard me, and for the fun of it I darted off as if I was scared half to death.”
“What did ye think of the views of mesilf and Alvin and Chester as regards the nixt Prisident?”
It was a shrewd question and brought the desired answer.
“You talked so low I couldn’t catch a word. Don’t you know that when Americans talk politics they yell and generally end in a fight?”
“We hadn’t got that fur; ye oughter kept still a little while longer and ye might hev took part in the shindy.”
So the eavesdropping amounted to nothing, and so far no one besides the three knew of the plan which they had formed. A half hour later every Boy Scout in the bungalow, including Jack Crandall, was asleep.
The morning dawned clear, bright and sunny. Jack would not permit any one to stay with him, so his chair was wheeled out on the front porch, where he became absorbed in a work on ornithology, while his friends broke into small groups and wandered into the woods as fancy prompted them. Scout Master Hall strolled off with several members of his Patrol, the understanding being that it was to be another day in which each should do as he pleased.
Let twenty men, boys or girls be thrown together in close companionship for weeks, and likes and dislikes are sure to develop. There may be nothing in the nature of hatred, nor even an impatient word uttered. Naturally affiliations spring up, while others avoid one another, without suspecting there is a cause for the mild repulsion.
Alvin Landon, Chester Haynes and Mike Murphy were chums from the first and were nearly always together. Mike was popular with all because of his many fine qualities, aside from the marvelous treats he occasionally gave in singing. One boy formed so marked a fancy for him that Mike did not like it because he could not respond. This was Hoke Butler,—he who had tried to play the eavesdropper the night before. Something about him which could not be defined repelled Mike, and caused him to avoid or at least to try to avoid his company. Perhaps it was Butler’s habit of boisterous laughter when no one else saw any cause for mirth, his disposition to slap the knee or shoulder of the boy nearest him, and his greediness at meals. Be that as it may, Mike did not like him, though too considerate to hurt his feelings by showing his sentiments.
Alvin and Chester were pleased, when they supposed all the boys had left the bungalow, to see Butler come up the steps, take his place beside Mike and give his knee a resounding slap.
“Hello, old chap! what are you going to do to-day?” he asked in his boisterous manner.
“I’m thinking of doing as the ither byes do,—stroll through the woods on the lookout fur ostriches, kangaroos, monkeys or anything that turns up.”
“Good! that’s me; I’ll go with you!”
“Who said ye would?” asked the disgusted Mike, as Alvin winked at Chester.
“I did; didn’t you hear me?”
“But ye don’t know where I’m going.”
“That makes no difference; I’m with you straight through.”
The chance was too good for Alvin and Chester to let slip. The face of the former brightened with hypocritical comradeship.
“Now isn’t that fine? Mike, you’re in luck.”
“As Larry Bergen remarked whin he found he had one finger lift after the pistol busted in his hand.”
“How nice it will be to have Butler with you the whole day!” Chester was mean enough to add.
“Aren’t you three going together?” asked the surprised interloper.
“We are particular as to our company,” said Alvin; “Chester and I travel together while Mike goes alone,—that is to say he would do so if you had not come along in time.”
“That’s me! I’m always glad to oblige.”
“Thim chaps,” said Mike, who was too game to wince though none the less resolved to baffle his chums, “are two babes in the wood; it will be mighty kind of ye, Butler, to go along and kaap an eye on ’em.”
“Now, don’t you see there are two of them, and it will be the same with you and me, which is the right way to divide up? Just the idea, old chap!” And Butler whacked the knee of Mike, who made a grimace at the grinning Alvin and Chester. “Tell you what, Mike, I took a shine to you from the first; we must be pals.”
“You’ve hit it, Butler; we shall be glad to loan you Mike whenever you want him.”
“That will be all the time,” roared the interloper, “won’t it, Mike?”
“It begins to look that way,” was the lugubrious response of the victim.
Alvin and Chester rose to their feet, the former remarking:
“We’ll see you at supper. Take good care of Mike, who is so innocent that he is sure to run into trouble unless you hold him back. Mike, be sure to obey him just as you do us.”
And the two stepped from the porch and set off in the direction of the cabin of Uncle Elk, looking back in time to see their friend shake his fist at them.
“It looks as if I was catched,” mused Mike, “as the man said whin he stepped into a bear trap, but I’ll aven up matters wid thim before they’re much older.”
“Isn’t it time we started?” asked Butler, after the others had disappeared.
“Yis,” replied Mike standing up, “but I can’t depart widout me buckthorn cane. Bide here till I go into the house and git the same.”
“I know where you left it leaning against the wall; I’ll fetch it.”
And before he could be anticipated, Butler darted through the open door and brought out the heavy stick.
“Always ready to do what I can for you, Mike; anything else?”
“Yis; I’ll be obleeged if ye’ll chase after thim spalpeens and ask Alvin Landon to send me that five dollars he borrered yesterday.”
“Of course; they haven’t got far and I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
“Don’t let him sneak out of it, but hang on till he coughs up.”
“You bet I will!”
The obliging youth scooted off the porch and after the couple who had disappeared only a few moments before. Mike waited only until he was beyond sight, when he hurried in the opposite direction and dived among the trees, as if he were a criminal fleeing from an officer of the law.
Meanwhile the obliging Butler made haste to do as requested. He was fleet of foot, and had no trouble in overtaking Alvin and Chester, who were walking at a moderate pace, made still more moderate by their merriment over the clever way in which they had gotten the best of Mike.
“It isn’t often we can do it,” said Alvin, “but we caught him fair that time. Hoke will stick like a leech to him—hello! what’s up now?” exclaimed the lad, as the sound of footsteps caused both to look around.
“Gracious!” gasped Chester, “it can’t be Mike has persuaded him to go with us!”
“Hold on a minute!” called Butler.
The two halted and Alvin asked reproachfully:
“Why have you deserted Mike, when he wants you so badly?”
“I haven’t deserted him; he and I are going to have a day’s ramble together.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
“He asked me to run after you and get the five dollars he loaned you yesterday.”
“Chest, have you got any money with you?” asked the astonished Alvin; “I have only a Canadian quarter.”
“I haven’t even that. I did the same as you, and left all my funds in the house.”
“You see what Mike is up to; it’s a trick of his to get rid of this fellow.”
Addressing the latter, Alvin added:
“That’s what I call a low down piece of business; why didn’t he ask us when we were at the house?”
“I reckon he didn’t think of it; hurry up, please; I don’t want to keep him waiting.”
“Well, you can’t help it, for we haven’t a dollar between us. Hurry back to him and say for us that we shall settle with him to-night when you and he come back.”
“Honest now, is that the best you can do?”
“It certainly is; if you don’t hurry Mike will grow tired of waiting for you.”
Alarmed at the probability, Butler dashed away like a deer, while Alvin and Chester hurried in the other direction with a view of being out of reach should the young man return.
But Hoke did not come back. He had set his heart on rejoining his chosen friend and bent his energies to that end.
After walking briskly for a half mile, Alvin and Chester slowed down and took matters more easily. They were so deep in the woods that they could see nothing of the lake, but they had become familiar with the route and were in no fear of going astray. When quite near the cabin of Uncle Elk, they saw three other Boy Scouts wandering among the trees, one of them with note book in hand. He was making entries and all were so engaged in the pleasant task that it was easy for Alvin and Chester to avoid being seen as they changed their course. Soon after they came in sight of the log structure where their old friend made his home. Halting while still among the trees, their position gave them a view of the front of the building and the upper part of the path which wound its way down to the lake. The latch-string was hanging outside the door with everything as still and motionless as the tomb.
“Well, now that we have arrived,” remarked Alvin in an undertone, “what are we going to do?”
“I don’t see that anything is to be gained by calling upon Uncle Elk, but, if he catches sight of us, we shall have to drop in on him. He is sure to treat us well.”
“Hello! we are not the only ones,” said Chester, as he and his chum stepped back behind the trunk of a large white oak.
The heads and shoulders of two men came into sight as they walked slowly up the path from the landing which they had evidently reached in a boat. A few paces brought them into plain sight, one directly behind the other and approaching the door of the cabin.
The first thought of the boys was that they were the tramps who had been making nuisances of themselves in the neighborhood for the last few days, but a second look made it clear they were not, for nothing in their appearance suggested the wandering vagrant. The striking fact about them was they were so similar in looks that it was evident they were twin brothers. The similarity extended to their clothing. They wore straw hats set well back on their heads, coarse shirts without tie or waistcoat, and dark trousers whose bottoms were tucked into a pair of boots that did not quite reach their knees. The two were of sandy complexion and each had a tuft of yellow whiskers on his chin, which was of the retreating order.
“They must be the men Mike heard chuckling together last night, though he did not see them,” was the conclusion of Chester, and his companion agreed with him.
“And they seem as much pleased as ever.”
Both wore a broad grin, and the one in front, half turning his head, said something which caused the other to laugh out loud.
Before the visitors reached the door, it was drawn inward by Uncle Elk, who appeared, staff in hand, as if about to start on a tramp through the woods. At sight of the young men, he paused and called:
“I am glad to see you, Asa and Bige; I was about to hunt you up, but this saves me the trouble; come in.”
He shook the hand of each in turn and the three passed from sight, the host closing the door behind them.
“And now what shall we do?” asked the perplexed Alvin; “we have seen two strangers go into the cabin and they are talking together, but we can’t hear a word that is said nor learn a thing.”
“That remains to be seen; let’s follow them, as we have the right to do so long as the latchstring hangs outside.”
This proposal would have been carried out had not the necessity been removed by the persons in whom they were interested. The door unexpectedly opened and the trio came out, Uncle Elk leading, staff in hand, and the others following in Indian file. They passed down the path toward the lake and were soon shut from sight by the intervening trees and undergrowth.
Alvin and Chester were sure their presence had not been noted, and they held back until safe against being seen. Then they moved stealthily down the trail to a point where they had a clear view of the smooth sheet of water. A hundred yards away, a small canoe was gliding at moderate speed toward the other side, its course such that it would reach shore—unless the direction was changed—some distance west of Dr. Spellman’s home. In the boat were seated Uncle Elk and the couple whom he had addressed as Asa and Bige, one of them swinging the paddle with the grace of a professional.
Keeping out of sight, the two youths watched the course of the boat, which gradually veered to the left.
“Uncle Elk has left his own canoe on the shore and we can use it if we wish to follow them,” said Alvin.
“I don’t think anything would be more foolish. In fact, Al, it strikes me that so far our part of the business is a failure. Those folks are going into the territory of Mike and I hope he will have better success than we. He can’t have less.”
All the lads could do for the present was to watch and wait. The canoe grew smaller as it receded, and finally disappeared under the overhanging limbs and vegetation at a spot which the boys agreed was either where Mike Murphy had heard Asa and Bige laughing the night before, or very near the spot. And, admitting that such was the fact, what did it all amount to?