“You see,” said the scout master, as he started to gently rub some of the soothing salve on the leg of the Canadian boy, “if the springs of that trap had been new and vigorous instead of rusted out and weak, they might have broken the bone here. As it was, they just gripped you and held tight enough to keep you from breaking away, seeing that you couldn’t possibly manage to get around so as to press down one of the springs.”
“Trap!” ejaculated Tubby. “Oh, why don’t you hurry up and explain it all to me, Andy Bowles? Rob, you tell me, won’t you? What sort of a trap was this poor fellow caught in?”
“It was an old bear trap, you see, that his own cousin had set a while ago, thinking to make use of it, as he had seen the tracks of a big black bear over this way,” Andy hastened to say. “Donald was hurrying along through the woods, never thinking about anything of this kind, when all at once he found himself caught. He’s been held fast there for more than an hour, calling out for help as loudly as he could. He was in a desperate hurry to get across the line, because by accident he overheard some rascals scheming to blow up the railway bridge this very night.”
“Great thunder!” was all Tubby could gasp, but the look on his face spoke volumes.
“That’s pretty lively stuff, of course, Tubby,” continued Andy, with the skill of a diplomat, “but the worst is yet to come; for, do you know, Donald’s father is an engineer in the employ of the Canadian railway, and it happens that he pulls the munition train this very night, that these fiends are planning to destroy along with the bridge!”
Tubby was fairly holding his breath as he drank in all these amazing details. His round face began to grow furiously red with a riot of emotions that made his heart beat twice as fast as was its wont. Then, as if he dimly suspected that Andy, given to practical jokes, might be taking advantage of his confiding nature, Tubby turned toward the scout master and implored him to corroborate the story.
“Oh, is it all true, Rob?” he asked tremulously. “Would Andy be so mean as to deceive a trusting comrade in khaki? Please tell me, Rob!”
“Every word is just as he tells you, Tubby,” said the other, still engaged in gently, but more vigorously than before, rubbing the discolored leg of the boy; and, singularly enough, it did not seem to hurt quite as much as at first, from which Donald must be inclined to believe there was considerable virtue in that “magical compound” as a pain remover and a balm in time of trouble.
“And are we going to stand by him, Rob, and try to break up the dastardly game of those criminal plotters?” continued Tubby.
“You give them a pretty hard name,” laughed Rob. “I reckon they’d deny anything of that sort indignantly, saying anything is fair in war time. All the same, we believe they deserve to be called scoundrels. Yes, we mean to stand back of Donald, if that’s what you mean, Tubby. We settled all that on the way here.”
“Going over into Canada, and warn the bridge guards, you mean, Rob?”
“Nothing more or less,” he was informed steadily. “Our only fear is that we may not get there in time to save the bridge.”
“’Course we’re all in this, Rob?” asked Tubby. “You wouldn’t dream of asking me to stay behind, when anything of this sort was being pulled off? I’ve never balked when ordered to obey by a superior officer, but in such a case as this—well, you wouldn’t treat me so mean as that, I just know it, Rob.”
“Make yourself easy on that score,” said Rob, wishing to relieve the strain of suspense under which he knew only too well Tubby was laboring. “We’re all going, all but Wolf here, and we’ll leave him behind to guard the cabin, with plenty of grub to keep him alive for a week. I hope that satisfies you, Tubby.”
“Thank you, Rob; I’m more than glad to hear you say that. I never would have gotten over it if I’d been left in the lurch when this glorious stunt was being pulled off. I promise you that I’ll keep up with the procession. Surely I can walk as fast as poor injured Donald here, who has such a game leg. Yes, I’m satisfied.”
About this time Rob ceased rubbing in the salve.
“There,” he told Donald, as he helped the other draw down his trouser leg once more, “I’ve done all I can for the present. I’ll take the salve along, and let you have another application later on, if you want me to; or it may be your good mother at home will have something just as fine.”
Tubby had been impressed with the grit of the boy who had shown such a commendable spirit. He understood what Donald meant when he said he was bound to go along, no matter if he had to hobble, or even crawl a part of the way. Tubby thought that if this was a fair sample of the valiant fellows whom “Our Lady of the Snows,” as Canada is often called, had sent across the sea, they would surely “do their bit” for the cause they believed was just.
“Oh, Rob, we forgot one thing!” suddenly exclaimed Tubby.
“What’s that?” demanded Andy.
“Why, my uncle, you know, boys, will be coming back, perhaps before we return, and he won’t know what to make of seeing our things here without a word of explanation.”
“I’ve thought of that,” said the scout leader promptly, nor was Tubby much surprised; it seemed as though Rob never forgot anything. “Sit down and write a few lines in a hurry, Tubby, while the rest of us finish what few preparations are still necessary. For one thing, I’m going to fill the lantern again, because the tank is pretty low and I’ve found a gallon of oil handy.”
“But what shall I tell him?” asked the other, as he dropped upon a seat near the rude table on which were paper and pencil.
“Just say what’s fetched us up here, and that you’re going to leave the paper he’s to sign. Then he can see that it gets back safe, in case anything should happen to keep us from returning here.”
Tubby winced when he heard those words, they seemed so suggestive of some unknown peril threatening them. He kept on asking questions.
“I’d better say something about where we’ve gone, and why, hadn’t I, Rob?”
“Yes, just as little as you can; and now get busy. We’ll be ready to leave here in less than thirty shakes of a lamb’s tail.”
So Tubby started in. He may never have taken the prize for rapidity in penmanship and composition at school, for he was slow in everything he undertook, save eating. Spurred on by necessity which knows no law, he wrote hurriedly, telling in as few words as he could the “gist” of what was required. If any of the teachers in Hampton High could have watched Tubby as he sat there, with his tongue-tip between his teeth and a look of grim determination on his ruddy countenance, and witnessed how his pencil glided rapidly across the paper, they would have certainly believed the world was coming to an end, or at least that wonders never ceased, for Tubby could no longer be called “as slow as molasses in winter” or possessed of the characteristics of the creeping snail.
“There, that’s done!” said the writer finally, with a sigh of relief. “I’ve made a bully good job of it, too, Rob—saying just enough without any superfluous language. I hope Uncle George doesn’t destroy this message. I think it’s a real gem, and as good as anything I ever did. I’d like to preserve it.”
“Well, we’re about ready,” said Rob quickly. “Andy’s got a snack of food to take along, so we may be prepared for emergencies.”
“Oh, I hope now you don’t dream that we’ll get lost and wander all around in a dense Canadian bush for days!” exclaimed the alarmed Tubby.
“Not at all, with two such clever guides along,” Rob told him. “You know preparedness is one of the cardinal virtues of every true scout. I never knew the time when some fellows would refuse to take a bite, especially after some hours of rough tramping.”
They also saw to it that plenty of food was placed where the dog could secure it, for it was utterly out of the question for them to think of letting the animal accompany them. He might, by some inadvertent act, betray them at a time when it would mean unnecessary risk and trouble.
Tubby had placed the valuable paper and his explanatory missive on the table, so arranging them that they would catch the eye of his uncle as soon as the sportsman entered the bunk-house. Wolf had been fastened with a piece of rope, for it was not necessary that he should have the freedom of the place. Tubby was too tender-hearted to neglect a single thing in connection with the dog’s comfort while they were absent. Accordingly, he had placed a bucket full of water within easy reach of the dog.
“Good-bye, old chap!” he told Wolf, and received a friendly bark in return. “We’ll see you later, perhaps in the morning. Make yourself at home, and, above all things, be sure not to gorge too much. It’s a bad thing to make a pig of yourself about eating, Wolf. I’ve known a human to come back for a fourth helping, when he could hardly breathe, and he was thin in the bargain, like you. So farewell, old Wolf, and take things easy while we’re gone.”
At another time Andy might have flared up because of this direct allusion to his particular failing, and declared that he “was not the only pebble on the beach” when it came to “stuffing,” but there was so much of a more thrilling nature to occupy his mind that he let it go by, just as water might run off a duck’s back.
They passed outside, and the door was fastened with the bar. Wolf barked several times, and there was a note of wonder in his dog language, as though he could not at all understand what it meant. Then Tubby heard plain sounds from within that told him his warning had fallen on deaf ears, for Wolf was already starting in to have a glorious feast, after which he would probably lie down contentedly and indulge in a sound sleep; nor would he mind being left alone as long as the food supply held out—he was only a dog, you see, with a dog’s nature.
“Good-bye, old shack!” said Tubby, who seemed to have a streak of sentiment in his make-up, considerably more so than either of his mates. “We’ve certainly enjoyed you as long as we were here, and hope to see you again soon. Ta-ta!”
“Oh, let up on all that talk, Tubby!” complained Andy. “I really believe you love to hear yourself speak. If there’s anything worth while to say, it isn’t so bad. Better save your wind, because you’ll need it unless all the signs fail.”
Tubby, knowing that these were really words of wisdom, managed to “bottle up” as he was directed. Indeed, once they had commenced to thread the mazes of the forest he found that he had all he could do to follow the lead of the lame boy who served as guide to the expedition. All sorts of obstacles lay in the way, and it seemed as though most of these took especial delight in getting under Tubby’s feet. He had to dodge snags, climb over logs, brush through bushes that plucked his campaign hat from his head and scratched his face, slide down into miniature gullies, and then painfully climb up the opposite side; and all these various “ups and downs” kept repeating themselves over and over again.
But Tubby was “dead game.” He had entreated to be allowed to accompany this expedition across the line, and no matter what happened, his chums would never hear a complaint from his lips, not if he died in the endeavor to “keep up with the procession.”
Shame alone would have kept Tubby from showing any sign of weakness. He knew Donald must be suffering agonies from that sorely injured leg of his, for Tubby watched him limp at times when he forgot himself and half drag that limb after him. Well, it would be disgusting, according to Tubby’s notion, for a well and hearty fellow of his build to let a game little Canadian chap, with a bruised leg in the bargain, leave him in the lurch.
So they moved on, Rob had lighted the refilled lantern, believing that while there was no danger of their being discovered it was wise to have it burning, for the illumination, while scant in its way, might prove a time-saver. This allowed them to see what obstacles lay in their path, for which Tubby was very thankful; it undoubtedly saved him many a stumble, and possibly not a few bruises.
Big Zeb followed behind Rob, who was second, and Andy came between the woods guide and Tubby. In this order they were strung out along the zigzag path which, thin as it was through less frequent use in these days since the loggers had gone, could evidently be easily discovered by the sharp vision of the young Canadian scout.
This grouping also allowed Rob to hold occasional communication with Donald or Zeb, as the inclination or the necessity arose. After they had been going for some time Rob thought it well to find out whether Zeb agreed with the course along which the engineer’s son was leading them.
“I don’t suppose, Zeb,” he said softly, “that you chance to know of any shorter way for crossing the International Boundary?”
“No, I don’t know,” admitted the big guide. “He’s goin’ as straight as the flight o’ an arrow for the line. I knows this here path. Many a time have I gone along it, with Mr. Hopkins, who wasn’t mindin’ much which side o’ the line he got his moose on, so long as nobody bothered him. An’ some o’ the border patrols could be fixed to wink at that sort o’ thing; because the moose, ye see, passed from one side to the other right along. Yes, we’re gettin’ tha, younker, as neat as ye please. Donald sure knows what he’s adoin’.”
This was comforting news for Rob. It also pleased the others. When there is much need for accuracy two heads are often better than one, especially when in full accord.
Tubby figuratively “shook hands with himself” when he heard this, for it served to allay his last lingering suspicion that Rob feared they might get lost in the wilderness.
Although the fact has not been thus far mentioned, it can be taken for granted that the party left none of their firearms behind them at the logging camp when they started forth upon this dangerous mission. They did not know positively that any occasion would arise when the possession of these weapons would save them a world of trouble. Since they were about to compete with desperate plotters, who would naturally be armed, every one believed it was good policy to be ready to defend themselves in an emergency. As Rob said, “when you’re in Rome you’ve got to do as the Romans do.”
“How far from the logging camp would you say the border lies, Donald?” asked Rob, after more time had passed.
“Not more than two full miles alang this path,” came the answer.
“Right, to the dot!” commented Zeb.
“But surely we’ve come nearly that far by now,” Tubby up and said from the rear, as he ducked under some bushes that developed a fondness for scratching his face.
“We are nearly there,” asserted the guide, and then Andy hastily exclaimed:
“Listen, boys! that sounds like the rumble of a train right now in the near distance!”
“Oh! horrors!” gasped Tubby. “Can it be that we’re too late, after all?”
“Naw, naw, ye’re baith wrang!” hastily exclaimed Donald, as soon as he could “get a word in edgewise.”
“But that certainly was a train we heard,” affirmed Andy stoutly, adding: “There goes a whistle! Don’t you hear it, Donald?”
“Oh, ay, but ye ken it was not my fayther’s hand at the throttle of the engine. That train is the regular passenger goin’ west. It is much too airly for the freight carrying munitions and stores, and bound east.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear you say so,” Andy was quick to admit.
“I can breathe easy again,” muttered Tubby, who had received quite a severe shock.
The sound of the train grew louder. They could even tell when it struck out on the trestle that served as an approach for the long and costly bridge. Naturally it thrilled them to remember that the unworthy plot of those who would strike a cowardly blow at the enemy of their native country by abusing the neutrality of the land that gave them friendly shelter—and protected them in the bargain—that this plan was laid to destroy that splendid piece of mechanical engineering, and, perhaps, engulf many human beings in the wreckage.
“Everything seems to be right—so far,” observed Andy, as they once again started to hurry along the dimly seen trail.
“We ought to be in time,” Donald told them over his shoulder, “accordin’ to what I heard them say. It’s hopin’ and prayin’ I am that I can hold out to the end. If the worst does come, why here’s a braw chap who could tak ye to the bridge. A’ ye hae to do is to tell them that Donald, the engineer’s lad, sent ye with the warnin’. They’ll know what to do the nicht. But I’ll manage somehow to get there, by hook or by crook.”
“You certainly will, if being game counts for anything, Donald, old fellow,” Andy assured him. “I never ran across a scout with more grit than you’re showing right now. Why, nearly any boy, with such a badly bruised leg, would be glad to let some one else do the running for him, satisfied to get the glory himself.”
“But do ye not understand, I could nae do anything less, because it is my ain fayther whose life is in danger?” the other said, apparently thinking that he was doing nothing so very wonderful—nothing more than any boy ought to do for the parent he loved.
The train was going away from them now, and by degrees they heard the sound of its passage less distinctly, until presently the rumble became very faint indeed, and then died away completely, though the falling of the night wind may have had considerable to do with this.
Rob, being a scout who always paid attention to even the smallest details, when on duty or off, for it had become second-nature with him, noticed that they were just about exactly opposite the place where, from the deep rumble, it seemed the western trestle and approach must lie. This he also knew was the end of the bridge they were heading for, since to reach the other terminus it would first of all be necessary to cross the river, which they were not prepared to do.
Besides, it was absolutely certain that the conspirators would also approach the object they planned to destroy from this side; and consequently Rob meant to extinguish the lantern, once he learned they were across the line.
“I can see something queer, like a pile of stones, ahead there,” announced Andy, who had particularly keen eyesight, and chanced to be looking forward at the time, instead of minding his steps.
“It is the cairn that marks the boundary,” said the Canadian boy simply.
A minute later and they had approached so close that all of them could easily see the object, which turned out to be a heaped-up pile of rocks, and on top was a broad stone slab, with some markings on it. Looking closer at the “monument” the boys read the words: “Boundary Line,” and underneath this “United States.” On the other side they discovered the word “Canada” below the same descriptive text.
“Well,” said Tubby, as they paused for a minute before crossing over, “just to think that I can sit here on this rock-pile, with one foot over in a foreign country and the other in our own home land. It seems queer!”
“Huh!” grunted Andy, always ready for a sly fling at good-natured Tubby, “take care then that you don’t have to sit on a stone-pile day after day, and wearing a striped suit. Please don’t get the habit, Tubby.”
“I won’t, I promise you,” retorted the other, “for it might be catching, like the measles, and you’d be a fit subject for contagion, Andy.”
“Start on, Donald,” said Rob, as he deliberately blew out the lantern, which he proceeded to carefully deposit at the base of the little pyramid of rocks, where they could get it again when on their way back to camp.
Evidently Rob did not believe there would be any further necessity for carrying a lantern. Besides, it was more or less of an encumbrance, since he had his rifle to handle in the bargain.
Tubby did not wholly like this. It would probably mean more frequent stumbles for him, and also knocks and scratches; but he did not remonstrate, knowing well that Rob was the best judge of what was right and proper.
So they all crossed the border, and found themselves treading the soil of Canada, for the first time in the lives of the three Boy Scouts of Hampton Troop.
“Why, it doesn’t seem one whit different,” said Tubby, in evident surprise, “and only for that sign on the slab of rock I’d never dream that I’d stepped over from Uncle Sam’s world, and was treading foreign soil.”
Andy was heard to snort as though highly amused, but he resisted the temptation to take a fling at the “unsophisticated farmer,” as he sometimes called simple-minded Tubby. As though there would be any perceptible difference in the soil and trees and rocks, because an imaginary line divided the continent between two entirely different nations!
Tubby sometimes knew better than he made out, and perhaps Andy was wise not to pursue the subject any further; he had been “stung” before, when attempting to take advantage of a “break” on the part of amiable Tubby.
“After this,” Rob was telling them, “be careful not to talk so loud. We don’t know which trail those men may take in passing across the border; but if they heard us speaking they would become suspicious at once. You must know that the very desperate character of their work would make them think everybody’s hand was raised against them; and the chances are they’d feel inclined to pounce on us, and at least make us prisoners.”
“Oh, that must never be!” said Donald, with deep feeling. “If they kept us fra warnin’ the bridge guards, ye ken, the whole thing wud be in the soup.”
After that they all fell silent, and the forward progress was carried out as so many ghostly specters in a country churchyard might stalk about at the hour of twelve, if, indeed, such visitors from the other world ever do visit this one.
For one thing the path actually seemed to be growing easier now, Tubby thought. At least he did not meet with so many obstacles to his progress, and could thank his lucky stars on this account. He really believed every square inch of his stout limbs below his knees must by now show signs of having come in rough contact with stumps, logs, rocks and all other manner of things. Indeed, Tubby had already made up his mind to apply in person to Rob for a portion of that healing salve, when a fitting opportunity arrived and their mission had been carried through successfully.
All of them listened anxiously as they went along. If a bird or a squirrel moved amidst the pine needles or the branches of a neighboring tree the sound, faint though it might be, gave them a corresponding thrill, because their nerves were all on edge, so to speak. Had a deer, lying in a thicket, suddenly bounded away with a crash of the undergrowth, Tubby feared he would faint, it was apt to give him such a terrible shock.
But there was no such alarm, and they were making steady progress all the while. Rob, as a rule, mapped out his plan of campaign beforehand, and he would have done so in this particular case also, only he considered that the honor of giving the warning should belong to Donald. The devoted Canadian boy had made a gallant attempt to carry the news of his terrible discovery to those in charge of the bridge’s safety; he had suffered all manner of pain and hardship in the effort, and it seemed only fair that he should reap most of the reward.
Besides, Donald knew the lay of the land in the vicinity of the bridge. Without his assistance as pilot to the expedition they might have strayed from the path and lost so much valuable time that even though they eventually arrived it would be only in time to hear the stunning report that would tell them the bridge was destroyed, and that the trainload of munitions had gone down into the gulf, a twisted mass of wreckage.
Tubby had conceived a new and somewhat alarming thought, and he wished that Rob had not placed that embargo on speech, for he wanted to ask a question very much. As it was, he had to take it out in looking anxiously upward every time they happened to be in an open bit of ground, where one could glimpse the clear heavens overhead, by straining the muscles of his neck terribly.
The fact of the matter was, Tubby had remembered about the aeroplane which all of them had so earnestly watched on that other day, when it sped across the line, descending low enough for the pilot to snap off a series of pictures of the ground below, together with the long railway bridge, and then once more scuttled away, heading for the American side of the border. He wondered whether those who meant to undertake the destruction of the bridge would come again in an aerial craft, and try to drop bombs upon the bridge at the moment the freight from the west was approaching the trestle.
Now, this was not so ridiculous as it might appear to some readers who may not know that Tubby, together with Rob and Merritt Crawford, had been abroad on the battlefields of Belgium and Northern France, where it was even then, in the early stages of the war, a common occurrence for aviators to soar over supply depots, railway stations, and various other central points, to try and blow them up by bombs they let fall from a great height. Why, Tubby could remember having looked upon a church used as an observation tower that had been successfully bombed in that way by a daring Teuton aviator.
He took a little more comfort, however, when presently he remembered that Donald had heard the plotters going over the details of their plans, and that according to all that was then said, they very evidently meant to use dynamite, planted under the trestle, and fired by means of a long copper insulated wire and a battery.
Plodding on, the little party began to ascend what seemed to be a gradual rise of ground. This would indicate that they were drawing near the railway line, for it was on a high bank at this place, a necessity caused by the fact of having to cross the river close by.
Tubby wondered what the next half-hour was fated to bring forth. He hoped they were going to meet with the success their efforts deserved, and that the miserable scheme might be nipped in the bud. Tired as the stout youth certainly must be, he was yet buoyed up by the excitement that had him in its clutches; and though the threatened bridge had been twice as far distant Tubby stood ready to keep going until he dropped from sheer exhaustion.
But the time was coming when the dull monotony of that advance was fated to be abruptly broken, and in a way calculated to give them a fresh thrill.
Donald had asked anxiously several times how the night was going. As a scout he might possibly have been able to tell this fairly well by the position of the heavenly bodies, particularly the planets; for every scout is supposed to include this woodsman’s trick in his education before he can call himself fit to wander at will in an unknown wilderness. But then Donald was hardly in a condition to depend on himself, and so he several times whispered to Rob:
“Is it gitting alang toward eleven, wud ye mind tellin’ me?”
It was still far from that, but evidently the particular hour Donald mentioned was wearing upon his mind, and he took counsel from his fears. Rob concluded that the long and heavily-laden munition freight was due at the bridge about eleven. And at the steady progress they were making he felt pretty certain they would be in ample time to give warning, unless something cropped up to detain them, which Rob fervently hoped would not be the case.
Tubby was still clinging to the rear, but doing nobly—for him. Even Andy felt a tinge of justifiable pride in the work of the stout chum, because he knew what a handicap Tubby always labored under when energy and sustained effort had to be looked to in order to pull one through. It meant a whole lot more for Tubby to accomplish this swift tramp than to any one of the other fellows, injured Donald alone excepted.
If he puffed and wheezed occasionally that was no more than might be expected. Every time Andy glanced over his shoulder on missing these familiar sounds, a faint fear oppressing him that the other had fallen out of line, he discovered the stout chum in motion not far back of his heels.
“Bully for Tubby; he’s all right!” Andy was saying to himself, for really he had a deep and abiding affection for the good-natured one, even though addicted to “rubbing it in” occasionally, when an evil spirit moved him to play practical jokes.
Then it happened!
Donald came to a sudden halt, and uttered a low but disgusted grunt.
“What’s the matter; lost the trail?” whispered Rob, for that was the first and most natural explanation that appealed to him.
“We’re in hard luck, I ken!” muttered the pilot of the expedition.
“In what way?” demanded Rob.
“It’s a muckle sair job, wi’ that awfu’ creature barrin’ the way. If ye look, Rab, ye can see his yellow eyes gleamin’ up yonder in the tree. The beastie is crouchin’ on a lower limb, and right o’er the trail. He will nae let us pass by, I fear me.”
All of them heard what Donald said, and every pair of eyes was immediately turned toward the place just ahead that he indicated. Sure enough something glowed in the semi-darkness, something that seemed like twin spots of phosphorus, about eight feet or so from the ground, and in conjunction with the lower limb of the big, bushy hemlock.
Even Tubby knew that only the orbs of the feline or cat species could display such glaring eyes in the night-time.
“Wow! a bobcat!” exclaimed Andy, fussing with his gun, though Rob instantly laid a detaining hand on his arm and hastily remarked:
“None of that sort of work, Andy, on your life, remember! It would ruin the whole business with us! It’s a dangerous job to try to shoot a cat when you can only see the glare of its eyes. Donald, what do you say?”
“First then, it is no common cat, but a big lynx, a fearsome creature for any man to tackle,” returned the young Canadian with complete assurance that told he knew what he was speaking about.
“Worse and worse!” grunted Andy, feeling a trifle disappointed because Rob had laid down the law, for he aspired to some day kill such a fighting monster as a full-grown Canada lynx, and it was too bad that circumstances over which he had no control were now fated to keep him from carrying out that somewhat ambitious desire.
Rob had been fumbling about his person, and suddenly there shot out a small but intense ray of light. The scout master had thought to fetch along with him that exceedingly useful little hand electric torch, and was now putting the same to good service.
Tubby stood on his tiptoes in order to see better, for he chanced to be just behind Andy, who somehow did not think to step aside. What he beheld gave him a further quiver along the region of his spine, as Tubby afterward admitted “just as if some malicious joker had suddenly emptied a bucketful of icy water down his back.”
There was no mistake about it. Crouching upon the limb of the hemlock they could see the beast, much larger than any wildcat they had ever met in all their travels, and plainly marked with odd-looking tasselated ears, and the hairy growth so like whiskers, that distinguish the true Canadian lynx.
The cat did not like that piercing glow from Rob’s dazzling light as was evidenced by a low fierce growling sound. Tubby had often heard the pet tomcat at home make that same noise when holding a captured sparrow between his teeth, and threatened by a rival and envious feline desirous of taking the prize away from the possessor.
At the same time the lynx showed no disposition to retreat, while they would not dare venture along the trail, because in so doing they must pass directly under its “roost,” as Andy called it.
Besides, Rob was not without caution, though on occasion he could be just as dashing as the next one. There was always a time when discretion might be deemed the better part of valor; and such an occasion now confronted them, Rob thought.
Donald, poor fellow, was figuratively speaking on “needles and pins,” what with his impatience to get on, and his knowledge of the dauntless habits of the animal that now disputed their right to that trail.
“There’s only one thing we can do,” said Rob decisively, for he was a great believer in “taking the bull by the horns,” or cutting the Gordian knot when it could not be untied, just as Alexander the Great is said to have done on occasion. “We must turn aside, and go around the brute. Let him stay in the tree where he is, if that’s his game. All we want is to get along, and lose no more time than is necessary.”
Andy was heard to give a sigh. How he did hate to “knuckle down” to a miserable old lynx that considered them trespassers on his domain, and perhaps knew they were just invading Yankee boys who had crossed the line despite the law that forbade trespass on the part of foreigners.
“A gude idea, Rab!” exclaimed Donald, overjoyed. “Mair strength to yer elbow, man. And let us gang awa’ without anny more bother.”
“Oh, well, all right,” grumbled Andy, in a disgusted tone. “It’s hard lines, let me tell you.”
Tubby was not saying anything, but he did a heap of staring. He noticed that as they left the trail and began to make a half circle so as to pass around the big hemlock containing that audacious lynx, Rob continued to play his electric torch so that its glow fell upon the crouching beast. There was a double object in this, for not only could they keep watch over the animal, and feel assured it had not left that limb to follow them; but at the same time the lynx would have to remain under the mystic spell of the glowing orb that dazzled it.
Andy kept his gun in readiness, for he was determined that should the beast make any attempt at attacking them he could not be bound by any order which would prevent him from shooting. But there was no occasion for violence. The lynx twisted its head around so as to follow their passage, but when last seen it had not even changed its position on the limb. As Tubby told himself half humorously it “just seemed bent on seeing a disreputable rabble well off the premises,” when it could once more take up the necessary duty of securing a dinner.
Tubby was also concerned in casting his eyes about him in momentary expectation of discovering another pair of glowing eyes amidst the tangle of branches above; for he remembered that most cats hunt in couples, often surrounding their game. He was looking for the mate of the lynx in the hemlock, looking, but at the same time fervently praying that it would only be conspicuous by reason of its absence, for Tubby was not at all fond of any sort of cats, domestic or wild.
All of them breathed sighs of satisfaction when they could no longer see any sign of the ferocious four-footed hunter of the trail. Rob had now extinguished his light, for he did not wish to needlessly exhaust the little battery; it had already proven worth its price, and was likely to come in handy on still further occasions in the near future.
“Not much danger of his following after us, I suppose, Donald?” Rob asked softly. He felt that the Canadian boy must be much better acquainted with the characteristics of such a native animal than he could boast of being.
“Na, I dinna think so. The beastie is satisfied to see us go around and leave him in possession. He is nae lookin’ after the likes o’ us just noo. But I hae another trouble facin’ me.”
“You mean finding the trail again, don’t you, Donald?” asked Rob.
“Just so,” came the reply. “I know the general direction we must be goin’ till we reach the railway, but it wud be so much better if we were able to continue alang the path.”
“We turned off to the right,” said the observing scout master, “and so it is bound to lie over on our left. You could tell when you struck it, I suppose, Donald?”
“Oh! ay, if on’y I could see,” the pilot assured him.
“Well, we’ll soon fix that part of it easy enough,” remarked Rob, and once more he had recourse to his invaluable vest pocket edition of a hand torch.
He and Donald walked side by side, using their eyes to the best advantage as they slowly advanced. Rob, being a clever woodsman, could pick out a trail that had been frequently used by passing human beings and animals, even though he may never have previously set eyes on the spot himself. As for Donald, surely he ought to be able to equal the cousin scout from over the border, for he was quite at home in these Canadian woods.
Andy, not being able to assist, was well contented to follow after those in the lead, and let them shoulder all the responsibility. Andy had a little weakness in this direction, which sometimes cropped up; and many boys are apt to think it a good thing when they can get some one else to assume all the care, while on their part they go “scot free.”
Tubby was beginning to worry. He fancied they might have “rough sledding” ahead of them. Why, this even began to look a little as though they were getting lost; at any rate, the trail was lost, which amounted to nearly the same thing. So Tubby was feeling that queer sensation again in the region of his heart, which had begun to pump doubly fast. Tubby’s naturally timorous nature had never been fully conquered, and there were plenty of occasions when it gave him much trouble. He feared lest he might be disgraced in the eyes of his chums by appearing a coward, something he sincerely detested.
Several precious minutes passed. In vain did Tubby listen to hear either of the trail hunters declare that their efforts had met with success.
“Yes, I guess after all we must be lost!” the stout scout began to admit to himself forlornly; and, indeed, it looked rather serious.
“It’s certainly queer where that trail can be,” Rob himself was saying. On hearing this Tubby’s heart took on an additional flutter, for he seemed to think things must be pretty serious when experienced Rob, who seldom allowed himself to show the least sign of discouragement, should speak in this strain.
“We hae already come twicet as far as I thought wud be necessary,” admitted Donald, “and naething yet o’ the pesky thing.”
“I’m dead sure we haven’t passed over it,” added the scout master. “While one pair of eyes might have failed two could hardly have been deceived. There’s only one explanation that I can think of.”
“Oh! what’s that, Rob?” hastily asked Tubby, making a great effort to keep that miserable tremor from affecting his voice, though he felt that he just had to say something.
“The trail must have taken a sudden bend just about that big hemlock,” Rob explained. “You’ve been over it so many times, Donald, I should think you might remember whether it does.”
“It’s verra curious,” spoke up Donald reflectively, “but I gie ye my word I was thinkin’ the same thing this minute. I am beginning to believe that it does the thing, ye ken. If that be so, then a’ we hae to do is to keep on goin’ till we fetch up once mair on the trail.”
“Well, let’s make an agreement,” said Rob. “We’ll keep along for five minutes, and if nothing shows up it would be better for us to abandon all hope of running across the path. Then we will have to shape our course as best we may, with both you and Zeb here to figure things out. There’s no doubt about our hitting the railway embankment somehow.”