THE CHASE
Paul looked again, and more closely.
The light from the fire was becoming fickle. Once in a while the flame would start up, and give quite some little illumination. Then dying down lower than ever, it allowed a condition of half darkness to prevail.
Of course it had been during one of these former periods that Paul made his startling discovery; and he waited in considerable suspense until the flame took a notion to feed upon another little stock of tinder.
Could it really be a bear up there in that big oak, the branches of which reached out, and shook hands with those of other trees? Paul chuckled at the idea; it was so absurd. Save for an occasional traveling Italian with a trained bear, no such animal had been known to exist in all this section for many years.
A bobcat then? That was very nearly as impossible. Still, the hasty glimpse he had secured told him that it was at least larger than a raccoon
or a 'possum, animals frequently seen in the vicinity of Stanhope.
Well, what was to hinder a boy from coming into competition with other things, when an explanation of the mystery was sought? Some boys can climb like monkeys; and he knew of several who would think little or nothing of making their way from one tree to another, when the great limbs interlocked.
There, the flame again began to show up, and dispell the gloom. Eagerly did Paul make use of his eyes; nor was he disappointed this time.
There was a swinging object dangling from the limb on which he had fastened his gaze. Even though the light proved so deceptive Paul knew that he was looking at a hanging boy, caught in the act of changing his location by the sudden return of the light, and meaning to remain still in the hope of escaping discovery.
Were there others also in the oak? Could it be that the entire Slavin crowd had managed to elude their vigilance, and was now hovering over the camp, ready to carry out some dark plot?
Paul did not believe this possible. Only an expert climber might succeed in accomplishing such a clever feat. He considered a minute, and then felt certain that he could give a guess concerning the identity of the one aloft.
Among the partisans of Ted was a fellow
named Eggleston, who was usually known among his fellows as "Monkey." This because of his fondness for doing all manner of wonderful tricks on a trapese or the parallel bars. He could hang by his toes from the limb of a tree, and never seemed alarmed in the slightest degree because twenty or more feet lay between his dangling figure and the earth below.
Of course, then, this was Monkey Eggleston. He had received his orders from Ted, and was carrying them out with more or less delight. Paul calculated that he intended to drop down into the centre of the camp, unseen, his presence unsuspected by the sentries, who would be looking the other way for signs of trouble.
Then what?
A vicious boy let loose in a camp for half an hour, with a good sharp knife in his possession, can do a tremendous amount of destruction. Why, he might begin by cutting the bags that held their sugar, so that every bit of it mixed with the soil and was lost. Half a dozen other things seemed to flash through Paul's mind as he crouched there and watched the dimly seen figure descending slowly from limb to limb.
Two courses were open to the scout leader. He could shout out, and bring every sleeper dashing from the tents; after which the tree might be surrounded, and the spy compelled to surren
der. Then again he could wait and watch.
His curiosity was aroused to some extent. He really wondered what the game of Monkey Eggleston could be. And so he determined to simply creep up closer, without giving the alarm. At the proper time he would start things moving.
Of course, if one of the sentries happened to think that the fire should be looked after, and came forward to throw on more fuel, it might interfere with the plans of the boy in the tree. But Wallace would not do this unless Paul gave the signal agreed on; and the patrol leader was rather of the opinion the other two fellows might be sound asleep, being unaccustomed to such a vigil.
He just caught a fleeting glimpse of something dropping lightly to the ground close beside the mess tent. This he knew must be Monkey. He had accomplished the first part of his errand, and now came the question of what he meant to do next.
Paul pushed in closer, anxious to see what was going on, for the spy was in the midst of the supplies gathered under the canvas cover. Just as though his coming might have been discovered, a dark figure made a sudden spring away from the spot. As the intruder bounded past the smouldering fire he seemed to bend over and throw something into it.
Instantly a bright illumination took place, dazzling in its effect.
With the crash of the spy's retreating footsteps echoed the loud cries that arose from the spot where Wallace was keeping guard:
"Fire! fire! turn out here and save your bacon, fellows!" he shouted at the top of his voice.
Figures came tumbling out of the tents. Every scout had been aroused by that dreadful summons, which might mean the wind-up of their jolly expedition before it had been started.
Of all the disasters that in a camp must be viewed with anxiety, a fire ranks next to a sudden hurricane. Paul had spoken about these things so much that every fellow realized the seriousness of the case, even though he might be a tenderfoot, who had up to now never slept under canvas.
Of course, as is usually the case, many lost their heads in the excitement. It could hardly have been otherwise, since they were new hands at the business. They ran back and forth, trembling with eagerness to do something heroic and grand, yet unable to collect their wits enough to see what ought to be accomplished first.
Luckily all of them were not built that way. Had it been so there must have followed a dire
disaster that would have put a damper on their budding hopes.
Paul saw Wallace jumping directly for the sputtering fire that was running so strangely from point to point, and eating its way toward the shelter under which all their precious stores had been heaped up.
"Whatever it is, he'll get it!" was the thought that flashed through Paul's brain at that instant.
Relieved of this fear, he could turn his full attention toward the escaping spy. Monkey Eggleston must not get clear, if it could possibly be avoided. He had engaged in some sort of miserable trick, calculated to harm those who were paying attention to their own private business. He must be caught and made to confess.
So, with that determination urging him on, Paul sprang in swift pursuit of the rapidly-disappearing form.
Since the moon had gone down, and darkness prevailed, it was not easy to see the figure of the runner; but if Paul's eyes failed him his ears did not. The fugitive was making a tremendous amount of noise as he slammed through the woods. He collided with trees, stumbled over trailing vines, and sprawled across more than one half rotten log that chanced to lie in his path.
Paul did much better. Perhaps he happened to possess eyes that were able to see in such semi-
darkness; then again it might be his absence from the fire had much to do with his ability to discern obstacles in time to avoid contact with them.
At any rate he knew one thing, which was, that slowly but surely he was overtaking the spy sent by the Slavin crowd to create havoc in the camp of the scouts.
Paul also knew that it was perhaps a very unwise move on his part, this chasing so madly after Monkey Eggleston. Of course the fellow had friends not so far away, and the chances were he was even now heading toward the place where Monkey knew they would be waiting to hear his report.
Still Paul would not give up. The fact that he was surely overtaking the other fellow acted as a sort of spur, urging him to continued efforts. Had the chase seemed hopeless he might have abandoned it after the first spurt; but now he felt that at any moment he was apt to pounce upon the object of his pursuit, who was floundering along just ahead.
Suddenly the noise stopped. Either Monkey had been given a jolt in his last tumble that knocked the breath completely out of his body; or else he was "playing 'possum" in order to deceive his pursuer.
Paul groped his way forward. The trees be
came more scattered, and what seemed to be a small glade dawned upon his sight.
He had carefully noted the spot where the last sound was heard, and as he strained his eyes now he was able to make out a crouching figure within ten feet of him.
"Ted?" said a quavering voice, "is that you?"
Evidently Monkey was entertaining a little hope that after all it may have been his comrade who had chased after him so persistently. Paul did not reply, but moved swiftly forward. He saw the other make a move as though about to try and resume his flight; but the young scout leader of the Red Fox Patrol did not mean to let so fine a chance slip through his fingers.
He made a quick spring that landed him on the fugitive. With all his strength Paul threw him back to the ground.
"Got you, Monkey!" he exclaimed, triumphantly; "now you'll come back with me to our camp, and explain what sort of meanness you were up to, trying to burn us out!"
The boy underneath seemed to be so badly frightened that he could hardly find his tongue to say a word. He had shown spirit enough when climbing through those trees to enter the hostile camp; yet now that he was held a prisoner his natural cowardice returned. But before Paul
could drag him to his feet there was an unexpected interruption to the little affair.
"Hey, boys!" called a voice he recognized as belonging to Ted Slavin, "get a move on you, and surround the wise guy. We've got him in a hole, and it's twenty-three for yours, Paul Morrison! He aint goin' to crawl out of this pickle, if we know it. Jump him, fellers!"