Tubby had placed the valuable paper and his explanatory missive on the table, so arranging them that they would catch the eye of his uncle as soon as the sportsman entered the bunk-house. Wolf had been fastened with a piece of rope, for it was not necessary that he should have the freedom of the place. Tubby was too tender-hearted to neglect a single thing in connection with the dog’s comfort while they were absent. Accordingly, he had placed a bucket full of water within easy reach of the dog.
“Good-bye, old chap!” he told Wolf, and received a friendly bark in return. “We’ll see you later, perhaps in the morning. Make yourself at home, and, above all things, be sure not to gorge too much. It’s a bad thing to make a pig of yourself about eating, Wolf. I’ve known a human to come back for a fourth helping, when he could hardly breathe, and he was thin in the bargain, like you. So farewell, old Wolf, and take things easy while we’re gone.”
At another time Andy might have flared up because of this direct allusion to his particular failing, and declared that he “was not the only pebble on the beach” when it came to “stuffing,” but there was so much of a more thrilling nature to occupy his mind that he let it go by, just as water might run off a duck’s back.
They passed outside, and the door was fastened with the bar. Wolf barked several times, and there was a note of wonder in his dog language, as though he could not at all understand what it meant. Then Tubby heard plain sounds from within that told him his warning had fallen on deaf ears, for Wolf was already starting in to have a glorious feast, after which he would probably lie down contentedly and indulge in a sound sleep; nor would he mind being left alone as long as the food supply held out—he was only a dog, you see, with a dog’s nature.
“Good-bye, old shack!” said Tubby, who seemed to have a streak of sentiment in his make-up, considerably more so than either of his mates. “We’ve certainly enjoyed you as long as we were here, and hope to see you again soon. Ta-ta!”
“Oh, let up on all that talk, Tubby!” complained Andy. “I really believe you love to hear yourself speak. If there’s anything worth while to say, it isn’t so bad. Better save your wind, because you’ll need it unless all the signs fail.”
Tubby, knowing that these were really words of wisdom, managed to “bottle up” as he was directed. Indeed, once they had commenced to thread the mazes of the forest he found that he had all he could do to follow the lead of the lame boy who served as guide to the expedition. All sorts of obstacles lay in the way, and it seemed as though most of these took especial delight in getting under Tubby’s feet. He had to dodge snags, climb over logs, brush through bushes that plucked his campaign hat from his head and scratched his face, slide down into miniature gullies, and then painfully climb up the opposite side; and all these various “ups and downs” kept repeating themselves over and over again.
But Tubby was “dead game.” He had entreated to be allowed to accompany this expedition across the line, and no matter what happened, his chums would never hear a complaint from his lips, not if he died in the endeavor to “keep up with the procession.”
Shame alone would have kept Tubby from showing any sign of weakness. He knew Donald must be suffering agonies from that sorely injured leg of his, for Tubby watched him limp at times when he forgot himself and half drag that limb after him. Well, it would be disgusting, according to Tubby’s notion, for a well and hearty fellow of his build to let a game little Canadian chap, with a bruised leg in the bargain, leave him in the lurch.
So they moved on, Rob had lighted the refilled lantern, believing that while there was no danger of their being discovered it was wise to have it burning, for the illumination, while scant in its way, might prove a time-saver. This allowed them to see what obstacles lay in their path, for which Tubby was very thankful; it undoubtedly saved him many a stumble, and possibly not a few bruises.