About half an hour later Step Hen was seen to be moving about in the bushes near the edge of the camp, with his head bent low. Now, every one knew what such an attitude meant when it was Step Hen who assumed it. He had lost something, as usual.
“What’s gone this time, Step Hen?” asked Thad.
“That little jinx been around again, hooking your things?” demanded Giraffe, who always made all manner of fun of the careless scout whenever he complained that he was unable to find a certain thing, which he felt just sure he had laid aside only a minute before.
As usual Step Hen was simply positive that he could not have himself mislaid his property. Proven guilty on numerous previous occasions did not seem to convince the boy that he could ever do such a silly thing again. This was always a case of where some mischievous chum had been playing a trick on him.
“Why, it’s that little bundle I fetched along, with a black piece of waterproof cloth around it, torn from an old rain coat,” he explained, as he continued to poke among the bushes. “It’s got some things in it that I thought I’d likely need up here, in case I happened to get lost; among others, a cute little compass, an extra box of parlor matches that you just can’t blow out in any wind, and some other little wrinkles.”
“Sounds all to the good, Step Hen,” Thad went on to remark; “and I’ve no doubt that if you ever did have the misfortune to get lost, while up here in Maine, that same little packet would come in mighty handy, providing you chanced to have it with you at the time. If it was in camp, why, it couldn’t do you any good. But what makes you think it’s gone now?”
“I had it in my hand not ten minutes ago, and laid it carefully aside,” Step Hen went on, in a whining tone as though he felt hurt; but which was doubtless only assumed for the purpose of arousing sympathy; “oh! you can grin as much as you want, Giraffe and Davy, but it’s so, this time. I was careful as could be. And now, she’s gone. I just know one of you fellers scooped that packet, and hid the same in the bushes, just to give me a rough jolt. And that’s why I’m hunting for it right now.”
Thad was on his feet at the time; and with a smile at the old complaint, which he had heard Step Hen make, time without end, only to find himself compelled to “eat his words,” as Giraffe put it, he sauntered away, meaning to take a little look around, before turning in.
Two minutes later Step Hen gave a little gurgling cry.
“Found it?” asked Giraffe, with an interested air.