The exclamation was caused by the sound of a voice, not in speaking, but in chortling, as if pleased over something. The sound was so near that had there been the least illumination Mike must have seen the one from whom it came. Then a second person—as the peculiar sound proved—joined in the ebullition, the two so near together that otherwise the listener would have thought the laugh came from one.
“It’s them tramps!” was the thought of the startled Mike; “though one of ’em wouldn’t be smoking a cigar unless he stole it or Uncle Elk had give the same to him.”
It was unpleasant thus to associate the hermit with the pestiferous vagrants with whom the youth had had much trouble already. He waited for the strangers to speak, but they did not seem to care to do so. Once he thought he saw the glowing end of the cigar, but was probably mistaken, for a second look failed to reveal it, nor did either of the men laugh again.
With a feeling akin to disgust, Mike stealthily worked his canoe from under the overhanging boughs and set out on his return to the clubhouse.
CHAPTER V — Concerning Certain American Trees
As Mike Murphy approached the landing he saw the second canoe drawn up the beach, which was proof that his friends had returned from their excursion to the western end of the lake. The bright light from the main room of the clubhouse showed that the Boy Scouts were gathered there and he decided to go in.
The night was so mild that no fire burned on the broad hearth, but the suspended lamp filled the apartment with a soft illumination which served almost as well as midday. Jack Crandall, the hero of the broken leg, sat in his invalid chair in front of the fireplace and at his side was Uncle Elk. Jack had been listening to the reports of his young friends who had been investigating trees, but were mostly interested in bird lore. The comments which Jack made on the written notes as read to him showed that he was the best informed of any of the Scouts concerning birds. He cleared up many doubts and answered questions so intelligently that the venerable Instructor in Woodcraft complimented him.
Mike came through the open door so silently that none of the boys noticed him. No chair being available, he sat down on the floor, as the majority had already done. He was near the entrance and aimed to avoid observation, but as Uncle Elk from his position faced him it was probable he noticed the lad, as did Jack Crandall, who also fronted that direction.
The reports and the comments thereon having been finished, the old man was speaking:
“To make satisfactory progress in acquiring knowledge,” said he in his low, musical voice to which all listened with alert interest, “you must do so systematically. In our tramp through the woods the other day we picked up a good deal of information, but it was haphazard. We talked of trees as we came across them, but it was fragmentary and ten times as much was left unlearned as was learned. I am glad to know that your Scout Master has followed the right course in directing your study of our native trees, not alone in Maine but as far north as Canada, westward to the Rockies and down to the northern boundaries of the Southern States. The subject is too vast for us to cover in one evening or in a dozen evenings. Let us rather summarize. We shall put our wits together and see how many families we can name, without giving the different species under each. The first is the magnolia family, of which there are four varieties, while under the custard apple there is but one, the papaw. Now let me hear from you.”