THE CAMP BY THE WAYSIDE
"Get up, there, you Peter!"
"Give the old sleepy-head another cut with the whip, Jerry."
"No use. He only flips his stub of a tail around, and shakes his head. I tell you nothing short of a burr under his tail would make old Peter run, fellows."
"And at this time of year there are no burrs. Oh, well, we're in no hurry. What if we do have to make a half-way camp? It is a part of the fun, boys," and Frank lay back on the cargo in the wagon, and laughed to see the ears of the patient horse wag back and forth as he toiled stolidly along the rough road.
They had decided not to use their motorcycles on this trip, for several reasons. In the first place, two of them were in need of a good overhauling, and of the remaining couple, that belonging to Frank was the only one always kept in trim. Besides, neither Adolphus, the colored man working for Mr. Wallington, nor his team, were available for use, and so they had to hire a rig that was proving very disappointing to all but Will, who took several fetching views of the picturesque beast.
Sometimes the boys walked, but when they grew tired they climbed up on the load, and Peter only wheezed a bit more, as though in protest.
The afternoon was well along by now. They had started just after noon, and had been foolish enough to believe they might reach the foothills of the Sunset Mountains by dark.
"Half way there, boys, and I move we look for a decent place to camp," suggested Bluff after another hour had lagged along.
"I'm getting a little bit hungry myself," admitted Frank, as his hand caressed the chest that contained a dozen tin cans with screw-top lids, and used for holding all such positive necessities as tea, coffee, sugar, rice, self-raising flour, beans, and other things. It was Frank's special property, and had been with him on many a trip up in the wilds of Maine.
"And there's a spot I rather fancy!" exclaimed Jerry, pointing ahead.
Presently the caravan had come to a stop. Poor, tired old Peter was taken out of the shafts and attended to by Jerry, who could not bear to let any dumb beast go hungry. Meanwhile, the others hustled about, got the tents up, and made a fireplace with a couple of big logs, that would answer for the one night.
"This looks good to me, fellows," declared Jerry as he turned from his task and surveyed the scene, with pleasure written big on his face.
"I'm never so happy as when putting up the tents, and never so miserable as in striking camp. There's a charm about it that a fellow can feel, but never put into words," said Frank, pausing from his labor.
"No danger of a storm to-night, I guess, but I always make it a practice to provide a runaway for water, in case of a heavy rain. Once I was flooded out by neglecting that thing, and I don't want it to happen again," he continued, as Jerry bent down to see what he was digging with the camp hatchet he carried.
"Look at that sunset, will you!" exclaimed Will, always on the watch for anything bordering on the picturesque. "What wouldn't I give to get those colors as they are there! The color screen gives me the clouds, all right, but a fortune awaits the man who can fix such a glorious thing as that!"
"Yes; and just to think what will become of all the poor artists then. They'll be knocked out of business flatter than a pancake," declared Jerry, who always kept his eye on the practical side of things.
"That reminds me of a promise I made Bluff yesterday," laughed Frank.
"Oh, yes!—that the first night in camp you'd give us some of those bully old Maine flapjacks you know how to toss up in the air so well. Boys, don't you let him crawl, now. I insist on him keeping his word!" cried Bluff eagerly.
"So say we all of us! Tiger! Here's a piece of paper, and while you get the rest of the things unpacked I'll just amuse myself laying out a bill of fare for this fine feast we expect to have. That ham there is a home-smoked one. Dad bought half a dozen from old Farmer Corntassel, and if ever you taste his hams your mouth'll water at the chance of getting a slice of that to-night."
So saying, Jerry squatted down on a log and commenced to screw his forehead up in innumerable wrinkles as he tried to conjure up his menu.
The others were working right along, and when it came time to do the cooking Frank assumed charge.
"Ain't this great, fellows?" demanded Jerry, as the three sat there devouring the flapjacks as fast as Frank could pile them up.
"And I'm glad I thought of this honey. Butter is good with pancakes, but as for me, I like something sweet besides—maple syrup or honey," announced Bluff.
"I agree with you in all but one thing, Bluff," said Jerry.
"What might that be?" asked the other, reaching over for his sixth helping.
"Never, so long as you live, say 'pancakes' when in camp. It may go at home, but under the free sky, with the tents near by, and the glowing fire lighting up the scene, it is considered next door to a crime to call them anything but flapjacks. Get that, son?"
"I'll try to remember; but it's hard to overcome the teachings of infancy, you know. I admit that you know more in a day than I do in a week about woodcraft, but I'll never own up that you are physically sounder than I am. I won out as many times blowing up those beastly old rubber mattresses as you did," declared Bluff.
Frank and Will exchanged quick looks, and both tried to hide a smile.
On their former trip, Frank had fetched along a couple of wide rubber mattresses that could be made into comfortable beds after they had been filled with air. The job of so inflating them had seemed a rather formidable one to tackle, each and every night, and so, profiting by a trick he had seen done elsewhere, he tried a little strategy in order to lighten the burden.
Jerry and Bluff were jealous of each other's make-up. They constantly boasted as to their superior accomplishments, and so Frank easily caused them to enter into a competition to see which one could prove a winner in blowing up the twin rubber mattresses.
The first night it was called a tie. Those eager fellows could hardly wait for the next occasion to come in order to again engage in rivalry. On the second attempt Jerry was the winner, but by so narrow a margin that he could not refuse Bluff's dare to have another try on the next night. Bluff won this time.
And there was never any trouble about getting the beds made up as long as the four chums camped on Wildcat Island.
The joke had never been told to them, so that even to this day they rested in utter ignorance as to what dupes they had been in the hands of their two chums. Frank and Will foresaw other occasions when they would be only too glad to have these eager rivals do the "wind act" with eagerness while they sat by and timed the job.
The supper was pronounced a great success by all, even the cook having a good word to say for Bluffs coffee.
"Any use of posting a sentry to-night?" asked Jerry, as they lay around, and a few yawns attested to the fact that they were getting sleepy.
"Well, not unless you think that ghost may be wandering far away from his usual stamping-grounds. I shouldn't think we could look for any other trouble out here, so far from the railroad and town," declared Frank.
"All the same, I think we ought to have some sort of system. It's generally understood that we intended coming out here, and how do we know but what that Pet Peters and his crowd may be mean enough to sneak up on us and stone our camp? They did it before, you remember, fellows," protested Bluff.
"I hope you don't think of cracking away at human beings the way you did at that big yellow dog, Bluff. Please don't get the habit; it's hard to break."
"Kindly refrain, Frank; or, as Pet would say, 'Aw, come off your perch!' I'm always willing to give any one of those fellows a good scare at any time, but you know I wouldn't want to hurt even Pet himself, unless he forced me," returned Bluff, quickly dropping the gun he had been fondling so affectionately.
"Well, if you fellows are so bent on trying to prove to Will and I which one has the biggest lungs, I suppose we'll have to surrender our right to have a turn at those rubber bags, and let you try again. Help me lay them out, Will, and don't look so envious. When they get tired of this thing we can have a chance."
"Don't worry about that, Frank. I shall never get tired of beating Bluff at that good old game. Just watch me run away from him."
But Jerry, to his surprise, was declared to fall just short of being a winner, and he had to listen to the taunts of his rival, and determine that on the next night he would be in better trim.
The fire was fixed to hold out several hours. Bluff, despite his declaration that he meant to keep awake, and watch, crawled into one of the tents and snuggled down under a blanket, since the night air was cool, even for July.
So the silence of slumber presently fell upon the camp by the wayside.
It must have been about midnight when Frank was awakened by a tremendous neighing on the part of old Peter, the horse, fastened to a tree near by.
Thinking the beast might have become caught in the rope, and need attention, Frank crawled out of the tent. The fire was low, and darkness hovered over the camp.
Just as he appeared, to his astonishment he saw the kettles and coffee-pot, as well as every frying-pan in camp, begin to creep along the ground in a long line, and then ascend toward the branches of the tree, in jangling unison.