"You!" Robert inquired. "What do you mean? Did you blow the conch?"
"That I did," he replied; "I blew just as cousin Harold said we must, to bring you all home."
"But, Frank," remonstrated Harold, "the conch sounded an alarm. It said, Something is the matter. Now what was the matter?"
"O, not much," Frank answered, "only I was getting hungry, and thought it was time for you all to come back. That was something, wasn't it?"
"You wicked fellow!" said Robert, provoked out of all patience, to think of their long run. "You have put us to a great deal of trouble. Sister, how came you to let him frighten us so?"
"Really, I could not help it," she replied. "When I went to the spring a little while since, he excused himself from going by saying that he felt tired; but no sooner had I passed below the bluff, than I heard the sound of the conch. I supposed at first it must be Sam, who had become suddenly worse, and was blowing for you to return; so I filled my bucket only half full, and hurried home; when I ascended the bluff I saw the little monkey, with the conch in his hand, blowing away with all his might."
"And didn't it go well?" asked Frank.
The young wag looked so innocent of every intent except fun, and seemed withal to think his trick so clever, that in spite of their discomfort, the boys laughed heartily at the consternation he had produced, and at the half comic, half tragic expression which his face assumed on learning the consequences of his waggery. They gave him a serious lecture, however, upon the subject, and told him that hereafter he must not interfere with the signals. But as he seemed to have such an uncommon aptitude for trumpeting, Harold promised to prepare him a conch for his own use, on condition that he played them no more tricks. Frank was delighted at this, and taking up the horn, blew, as he said, "all sorts of crooked ways," to show what he could do. The boys were astonished. Frank was the most skilful trumpeter of the company; and on being questioned how he acquired the art, replied, that when he and his mother had gone on a visit to one of her friends, during the preceding summer, he and a negro boy used to go after the cows every evening, and blow horns for their amusement.
CHAPTER XXV
A HUNTER'S MISFORTUNE--RELIEF TO A SPRAIN--HOW TO AVOID BEING LOST IN THE WOODS, AND TO RECOVER ONE'S COURSE AFTER BEING LOST--A STILL HUNT