Under some of the rocks the boys discovered a few ugly looking dobsons or, as Bud called them, hellgamites. They had a black color, and were armed with a pair of powerful mandibles or “pincers” that had to be avoided unless one scorned the sharp snap they could give when angered.
After an hour or so of searching, enough bait of various kinds had been found to answer their purpose. Then Bud and Billy walked down the river a short distance until they came to a likely-looking place where a deep pool seemed to promise them good results.
They had been wise enough to bring jointed rods along, as well as a landing net, and all the paraphernalia needed for the work. Being experienced bass fishermen, the two scouts knew how to go about the job; and it was not long before they were enjoying the sport.
The Hurricane proved to have gamey bass in its slumbering pools, and the varied kind of bait which the fishermen offered was very tempting to their capricious appetites, for the boys inside of an hour had landed quite a number of fighters, all of which compensated Bud and Billy for their work in hunting for the bait.
Arthur Cameron had taken the tenderfoot under his wing. Harold Tremaine had discovered how much enjoyment the others seemed to get from their observation of things about them. He was earnestly desirous of emulating their example, and since above all other things he fancied he would best like being an expert at reading animal “signs,” Hugh had privately asked Arthur to get him interested in that line.
They spent the livelong morning in the woods, searching everywhere for tracks, and when finding them, trying to read a story in the marks as made by the shy little animals. Sometimes they came upon evidences of a tragedy, such as are constantly happening amidst these primitive circles, where existence on the part of one always means annihilation of another.
There was a creek that ran into the river a short distance above the camp, and it was here that Arthur and his friend spent most of their time. Along the banks, where it was narrow, they could easily find the tracks of numerous small animals.
Arthur, from his longer experience and study, was able to point out exactly what difference existed between the footprint of a mink and that of a ’coon.
“This one here,” he told Harold as the morning waned, and they were about returning to the camp for lunch, “bothers me. It doesn’t look like anything I ever happened to run across before. Ralph Kenyon would know, and if I can get him up here I’d like to see what he makes of it. Even if he won’t come we can describe it to him.”
“But what do you think it can be?” insisted Harold.