“Why, yes,” Bumpus told him, “Thad promised to send the news along if they were successful, and bagged both hoboes. I keep hoping every minute to get the call. You know, Smithy, lots of savage people have a way of sending news by sound, and by smoke, from one station to another. They say in Africa they can get word over hundreds of miles in less’n no time. I’m a great believer in that sort of wireless telegraphy.”
“Yes,” remarked Smithy, with something approaching humor, at least as near as he ever was known to get to the joking stage, “I’ve noticed that, when you start to shouting for your supper, because you can make the greatest racket going. But all the same this thing of keeping camp while the rest of the boys are on the move is rather prosy, I think.”
“Why, Thad assured me that any kind of a fellow could just push through all that scramble of brush; but it takes a different sort to be trusted with the responsible task of guarding the home base. He begged me not to think it meant any reflection on our abilities, Smithy. Yes, he even called us the hub of the wheel, of which each of the others was only a spoke.”
That information rather bolstered up Smithy’s drooping spirits for a little while; but the solemn stillness that surrounded them on all sides soon began to make him drowsy again.
He had not secured his customary sleep latterly, and the warmth of the fire assisted in causing his eyes to become heavy.
Bumpus noticed this. Several times he talked to his companion, with the sole idea of keeping Smithy on the alert; but in the end he found that it did not seem to avail to any extent, for the replies he received were inclined to be hazy, as if the brain of the other had begun to yield to that drowsy feeling.
“Oh! well,” Bumpus told himself, “what’s the use bothering the poor tenderfoot? Smithy isn’t used to this, even if he is a pretty good fellow. He’s still mamma’s darling boy more or less, and not accustomed to roughing it, like the rest of us. He’ll learn in time, I reckon. Fortunately there’s no danger of me failing to stand the great test. Huh! I’ve been through the mill, I have, and proven my worth more’n once.”
All the same it seemed that despite his brave words Bumpus also felt his eyes growing heavy before long. Once he even aroused with a start, as his head fell forward with a lurch, giving him a little twinge in his neck.
“Here, this won’t do, Bumpus Hawtree!” he told himself severely; “you just get busy, and show what a loyal, faithful scout you are. Want Thad to drop in here, and find you sound asleep on your post, do you? Well, that would be a nice pickle, believe me. Smithy is only a poor tenderfoot at best, and not a seasoned veteran. He might be excused, but what would happen to you, tell me that?”
The idea seemed so monstrous that Bumpus immediately scrambled to his feet, although his actions did not seem to interfere at all with the peaceful dreams of the sleeping scout. Smithy still sat there, with his head bowed down on his breast, and no doubt resting under the happy belief that he was once more safe at home, after all this trying flight along the flood-swept valley of the Susquehanna.