He had never been the one to indulge in rough-and-tumble “horse play” while in camp, like Giraffe, Step Hen and Davy, for instance; but on several occasions the others had seen his metal tested, and Smithy had come out with flying colors.
His face might get white when danger impended, but he had the right kind of nerve, and would stand up for another, no matter what threatened. Smithy was exceedingly modest, and always apologizing for his lack of stamina; but Thad knew he was no coward under it all.
The minutes passed slowly as the two boys sat there by the cheery fire. Naturally they kept listening eagerly, half expecting to hear some sudden wild clamor that would announce the discovery of the tramps, and a desperate effort on the part of their chums to make them prisoners.
They remembered that these men were both big fellows, and undoubtedly more or less to be feared, especially when their passions were aroused.
“Don’t seem to be anything doing so far,” Bumpus remarked, as he poked the fire, and immediately afterward raised his head, as well as his fat neck would allow, the better to listen intently.
“And you’d think they’d had sufficient time to reach the upper end of the island, too?” Smithy went on to say reflectively.
“Oh! well, the real drive only begins then, you see,” Bumpus informed him, with rather an important air. “Thad said they meant to strike straight for the place where we landed, and then comb the ground as they came along. I don’t just know what he meant by that same word, but it sounds good to me. When you comb a thing you get everything out, even the tangles; and if the tramps are hiding somewhere on the island they’ll be found.”
“Trust Thad for that,” assented Smithy, who had the greatest admiration for and confidence in the scout master.
“What was that moved then?” exclaimed Bumpus, reaching out, and taking hold of his gun with hands that trembled more or less, though at the same time his teeth were grimly set, and his eyes shone with determination. “Sho!” he added, after a half minute of terrible suspense, “look at that, will you, only a sassy little striped chipmunk, after all, frisking around to see if we hadn’t spilled some crumbs when we had our breakfast. But I’m afraid he’ll be badly disappointed, because there ain’t any crumbs when you’ve only had grits for your morning meal.”
After that they sat there for some little time with senses on the alert, waiting for some sign from the chums who had recently left them.