“Oh! the chances are ten to one it wasn’t, Bumpus,” said Thad, who saw that the scout was really dreadfully worried, and in a fair way to have his whole vacation trip to the woods spoiled by over anxiety.
“Perhaps you’re right, Thad, and it’s kind of you to bolster up my hopes like you do; but then, there is one chance, you see, that I lost that document; and I’m wondering right now what it could be. Oh! what if it was so important that my folks would suffer because I lost it? Think how I’d feel if I came home after having the time of my life up here, and found all the household stuff out on the street, and the red flag of an auctioneer telling people that the Stedman place was for sale? Whew! it makes me feel chilly all over just to think of what I may have done. Then I just say to myself that of course you delivered that letter Bumpus Stedman; you couldn’t be so wrapped up in getting ready for the start on this jaunt as to just forget all about it. And now, it’s too late to go back, and I’ve just got to worry and worry until I lose pounds every day. And perhaps, when we go back, I’ll be a living skeleton, like Giraffe here. Oh! that’s the worst of it. Better learn to quit callin’ me Bumpus, fellers, because right soon it won’t fit at all.”
“Cheer up!” said Thad, “and sooner or later you’re sure to remember something that Mr. Harriman said or did, when you handed him the letter;” but poor Bumpus only shook his head sadly, and sighed again.
CHAPTER III.
A STRANGE DISCOVERY.
“How about this for a camp site, Thad?” asked Allan, half an hour later.
“Looks fishy around here, for a fact,” remarked Step Hen, just as if he knew all about such things; when, truth to tell, he had a lot to learn before he could call himself much of a woodsman.
“Wonder if there’s any chance of finding that bee tree you said you was goin’ to show me some time, when we got up in Maine?” spoke up Bumpus; who had managed for the time being to put his troubles out of his mind; for Thad assured him that after sleeping over it, most likely he would remember some little incident connected with his entering the bank on that last morning in Cranford, and which would prove to his satisfaction that he must have delivered the letter there.
“Well,” said Allan, the Maine boy, “it’s pretty late in the season to talk about bee trees, for I doubt if we’ll find any of the little buzzers flying; and it’s really necessary to have that happen in order to locate the hive; but I’m going to keep my eye open all the time, Bumpus, and try and accommodate you.”
“But just think of gettin’ whole heaps of rich ripe honey!” ejaculated Giraffe, who dearly loved eating; “say, wouldn’t we have flapjacks every morning then, boys, with honey to smear over them an inch thick? Um! um! take me to that bee tree as soon as you locate it, Allan, and give me an axe. I promise to cut her down, remember that.”
“And I hope to hold you to that promise, Giraffe,” returned the assistant patrol leader. “But what d’ye say, Thad, shall we stop here?”