But of course none of these lads had any share in the reward that had come to the members of the first patrol; so that accounted for their not being present on his occasion.
Bumpus was a musician, and had a fine mellow voice, which he often used to entertain his mates while sitting around the roaring camp-fire. He could play on any instrument; indeed, with merely his doubled-up hands, and his melodious voice, he often imitated various calls on the bugle. And of course he had been elected as bugler to the troop, though on the present occasion they had induced him to leave his instrument at home, not thinking a hunting camp the place for such noisy demonstrations.
The boys carried guns of various sorts, though until lately Bumpus had never bothered himself about such a thing. But while in Maine the fever seized him, and he had purchased a big ten-bore Marlin double-barreled shotgun; because he always admired the twelve gauge of the same make which Thad owned.
Step Hen had a little beauty of a thirty-thirty six-shot repeating rifle, that had been given to him by his father on a recent birthday. Thad sometimes borrowed it, and could use the same with considerable skill. It carried those soft-nosed bullets that mushroom when striking, and thus do all the work of a ball several times the size. If big game must be killed, the quicker the thing is over with the better. Besides, that little fire-arm was “just as light as a feather,” as Step Hen always declared, when disputing with Giraffe, who carried the large rifle owned by his respected dad, also fond of the woods and game.
Davy managed to get along with a shotgun, while Allan had a rifle. Smithy and Bob White had brought no weapons along, deeming the number on hand amply sufficient to clean out most of the wild beasts inhabiting the Rocky Mountain region. In fact, Smithy had never shot a gun in his life, and was timid about trying; but on the other hand Bob was quite used to working with a good retriever in the grain fields, where the bird he was named after fattened, away down in the Old Tarheel State.
Davy seemed to be unusually full of animal spirits on this occasion. He just could not keep quiet, but kept up his tumbling, and standing on his head, even though no one paid much attention to what wonderful stunts the athletic lad was carrying on.
Close by them ran a noisy stream. It came out from the foothills of the great uplifts near by, and went brawling on its way. Indeed, it made so much music that the scouts had to call out to each other at times; but somehow the prospect of passing a night near such a rollicking stream pleased them all. Besides, they were sure it must contain trout, and several promised to get up at break of day to try for the speckled beauties, so that they might have a mess for breakfast, before continuing on their way.
“Say, has anybody seen my sweater around?” called out Step Hen, who was busily engaged looking over the contents of his pack, having turned over the control of the cooking meal to Allan and Thad. “I’m just sure I stowed it away in this knapsack I carry, but it ain’t there now. I’m the unluckiest feller you ever did see, about having my things taken. Everybody just thinks they’re general property, and grabs ’em up. Please hand it over, whoever’s got it. I might want it to-night, if it gets cool.”
Step Hen was careless. He had a long-standing habit of never knowing where he put his things, and hence, when he missed some object, loud were his wails about being pursued by a “little evil genius,” that was taking the greatest delight in misplacing his possessions. Even when one of the other scouts, taking pity on Step Hen, would show him where he had himself left the article, he would pass it off as easily as a duck shakes the water from its back.
The tents had been raised, and everything looked cozy and comfortable. Several of the scouts lay around, being footsore and weary; only that never-tired Davy was still exercising himself in all sorts of ways. In due time he would work off his superfluous energy, and behave. They were so accustomed to seeing Davy hang by his toes from the high limb of a tree, or doing some similar act better fitted for the circus than a camp of Boy Scouts, that little attention was ordinarily paid to his actions.