“I surely would have gone under in another minute if you hadn’t come along!” he said. “I never was so glad of anything in my life as I was to see you standing there with your long pole. I really don’t know how to thank you!”
“Tut, tut,” said old Sam, who always hated to be thanked for his kind deeds. “’Twan’t nothin’ ’t all! No more’n any Christian would hev done ef he’d found a friend o’ his’n in a tight place. I reckon ye must feel durned sticky with that there mud all over ye, lad,” he added, to change the subject. “S’pose ye come up to my cabin—’taint so very far from here, and scrape some o’ it off.”
The boys readily consented, for they had learned to think a lot of this quaint old man of the woods. Therefore, as soon as Ben had recovered his strength and felt rested enough, the three started out for Sam’s cabin. In a very short time they came upon the little place nestling in the very heart of the forest.
Sam told Bob to make himself comfortable while he took Ben around to a brook that ran back of the cabin and told him that if he wanted to take a plunge, he (Sam) would scrape the muck off his suit. And soon Ben, wonderfully refreshed by his dip in the cold water, and wearing his khaki suit, from which Old Sam had scraped the worst of the mud, came around the corner of the cabin and joined Bob.
The two Scouts were in a very subdued mood. The terrible experience they had just passed through brought with it a reaction. There was something very restful and soothing in sitting on the grass, with their backs against a log, while Old Sam moved cheerily around inside the little cabin, frying bacon and eggs.
When everything was ready, Sam called them and seated them in two very comfortable chairs of his own making.
“Aye,” said the old man, as he began serving the simple meal, “there’s been many footsteps leadin’ up to them bogs as has never come out o’ them. I remember once, when I was only a young feller, how two o’ the ugliest villains I ever see got their deserts. Ye see, these here rascals was tryin’ to steal some pow’ful val’ble trees here’bouts. They had it all fixed up fine how they were goin’ to git away with ’em. Wall, they wuz hard to work one night loadin’ the logs on a wagon so’s they could get ’em away before mornin’, when all a sudden they hears a voice and, lookin’ up, sees two great big, green eyes a glarin’ right at ’em. With a yell they runs off through the woods as fast as their legs could carry ’em, and never stops to look where they’s goin’. All a sudden, the first man slips an’ falls, ketchin’ hold o’ t’other and draggin’ him with him. With a blood-curdlin’ cry, they found they was bein’ pulled under. In a little while there was nothin’ to show they’d been there, ’ceptin’ their footprints leadin’ up to the edge o’ the bog. Me and a friend o’ mine was jest in time to see the last o’ ’em disappear.”
The boys had listened in horrified silence to this story and, as Old Sam stopped, Bob broke in breathlessly to ask, “But where did the green eyes come from?”
“Why, seems them belonged to a bobcat,” Old Sam began, but was again interrupted, this time by Ben.
“A bobcat?” he exclaimed. “I’ve heard there are some around here, but I haven’t seen any yet.”