Part 4 (2/2)

”But, Steve,” complained Bandy-legs, ”you ain't told us yet who you believe it was made all that noise? And do you think he did it just to give us a scare?”

”Just what I do, Bandy-legs,” replied the other, stoutly; ”because the feller I had in my mind was Ted Shafter.”

”What's that; Ted Shafter!” echoed Bandy-legs, aghast.

”Or if not him, then Shack Beggs, or Amiel Toots!” went on Steve, doggedly nodding his stubborn head up and down, as though the idea had secured a firm footing in his mind, and would not easily be dislodged.

Owen turned to his cousin Max. Somehow, in moments of sudden need, it was noticeable how they all seemed to place great dependence on Max.

”Could that be so, Max?” he asked. ”Would you think that bunch of fellows'd take the trouble to come all the way up here just to bother us?”

”Oh! so far as bothering us went, I believe they'd go to even more trouble than that,” was the reply Max made. ”The only question in my mind is, whether they'd have the nerve to come over to this island at night time, just to try and give us a little turn.”

”Of course they knew all about what we expected to do?” suggested Owen.

”We can be sure of that,” replied his cousin. ”In the first place, Shack Beggs was in that mob that saw us get under way. Then again either Shack, or some other boy in his crowd, must have managed to get into our clubhouse last night after we left, and bored that hole through the bottom of the cedar canoe, thinking we wouldn't notice it.”

”Wonder they didn't slash a knife through the canvas boats in the bargain,” commented Touch-and-go Steve, gloomily; ”it'd be just like their meanness.”

”Well, that would have been so barefaced that of course the whole town would have been up in arms, and somebody might tell on them, which'd mean that Ted would be sent away to the reform school for a time,” Max explained.

By degrees the boys began to settle down again. Owen was the first to drop back into the comfortable position he had occupied at the time that weird screech first shocked them, and brought about a sudden rising up.

Max managed to possess himself of his gun, and then Steve, quieting down, followed the example of his campmates, by picking out a good place near the crackling blaze, where he could hug his knees, and stare gloomily into the fire.

For some little time the boys exhibited a degree of nervous tension. It was as though they half expected that awful cry to be repeated, or some other event come to pa.s.s. But as the minutes glided by without anything unusual happening, by slow degrees their confidence returned, and finally they were chatting at as lively a rate as before the alarm.

All sorts of speculations were indulged in concerning the possible character of the origin of the sound. Bandy-legs in particular was forever springing questions on Max as to what he thought it could have been, if not one of that Shafter crowd.

”Do they have real panthers around here, Max?” he asked suddenly.

”Well, I don't think there's been one seen for a good many years,”

replied the other, accommodatingly. ”Time was, of course, when they need to roam all about this region; yes, and wolves and buffalo as well; but those were in the old days when it was called the frontier.”

”Buffalo!” echoed Bandy-legs, in amazement; ”why, Max, I always thought buffalo were only found away out West on the plains, where they used to be seen in great big droves, before Buffalo Bill cleaned them out, supplying meat for the workers building the first railroad across the continent.”

”Well, that's where you were away off,” answered the other, ”because in all the accounts in history about Daniel Boone and the early settlers along the Ohio and in Kentucky you can read of them hunting buffalo.

Seems they went in pairs or small droves at that time. Why, they used to get them for meat in the mountains of Pennsylvania when on the way across to the valleys on the other side. And at that time there were more panthers around here than you could shake a stick at.”

”You'd never ketch me doing that same thing, if it was a panther,”

admitted Bandy-legs, frankly. ”I'm afraid of cats of all kinds the worst ever. Why, I always said I'd rather face six lions than one tiger, any day.”

”Sure, who wouldn't?” remarked Steve, dryly. ”They'd make way with a feller all the sooner, and end the agony. But Max says he don't believe it could have been a panther, so make your mind easy, Bandy-legs.”

They managed to talk of other things in between, but the boy with the short legs would every little while think up some new question in connection with that shriek, which he would fire at Max, and demand an answer. When Steve tried to make fun of him for harping on that old string so long, the other immediately took up arms in his own defense.

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