Part 12 (2/2)

”What do you want of it?” demanded Walt.

”I want to use it. We haven't anything else to do.”

”Sure,” said Walt; he tossed it over. ”Take pictures of yourselves, and show folks how you smart Scouts were fooled.”

I didn't see what Fitz could use his camera on, here. And he didn't seem to be using it. He kept it beside him, was all. There weren't any animals around this kind of a camp. But the general and I didn't ask him any questions. He was wise, was old Fitzpatrick the Bad Hand, and probably he had some scheme up his sleeve.

We just sat. The two fellows played cards and smoked and talked rough and loud, and wasted their time this way. The sun was mighty hot, and they yawned and yawned. Tobacco smoking so much made them stupid. But we yawned, too. The general made the sleep sign to Fitz and me, and we nodded. The general and I stretched out and were quiet. I really was sleepy; we had had a hard night.

”You fellows going to sleep?” asked Walt.

We grunted at him.

”Then we'll tie your hands and we'll go to sleep,” he said. ”Come on, Bat. Maybe it's a put-up job.”

”No, sir; that wasn't in the bargain,” objected the general.

”Aw, we got your parole till twelve o'clock, but we're going to tie you anyway,” replied that Walt. ”We didn't say how long we'd leave your hands loose. We aren't going to sit around and keep awake, watching you guys. When we wake up we untie you again.”

We couldn't do anything; and they tied the general's hands and my hands, but Fitzpatrick begged off.

”I want to use my camera,” he claimed. ”And I've got only one hand anyway. I can't untie knots with one hand.”

They didn't know how clever Fitz was; so they just moved him and fastened him by the waist to a tree where he couldn't reach us.

”We'll be watching and listening,” they warned. ”And if you try any foolishness you'll get hurt.”

They stretched out, and pretended to snooze. I didn't see, myself, how Fitz could untie those hard knots with his one hand, in time to do any good. They were hard knots, drawn tight, and the rope was a clothes-line; and he was set against a tree with the rope about his body and the knots behind him on the other side of the tree. I didn't believe that Bat and Walt would sleep hard; but while I waited to see what would happen next, I dozed off, myself.

Something tapped me on the head, and I woke up in a jiffy. Fitz must have tossed a twig at me, because when I looked over at him he made the silence sign. He was busy; and what do you think? He had taken his camera apart, and unscrewed the lenses, and had focused on the rope about him. He had wriggled so that the sun shone on the lenses, and a little spire of smoke was rising from him. Bat and Walt were asleep; they never made a move, but they both snored. And Fitz was burning his rope in two, on his body.

It didn't take very long, because the sun was so hot and the lenses were strong. The rope charred and fumed, and he snapped it; and then he began on his feet. Good old Fitz! If only he got loose before those two fellows woke. The general was watching him, too.

Walt grunted and rolled over and bleared around, and Fitz quit instantly, and sat still as if tied and fooling with his camera. Walt thought that everything was all right and rolled over; and after a moment Fitz continued. Pretty soon he was through. And now came the most ticklish time of all.

He waited and made a false move or two, to be certain that Walt and Bat weren't shamming; and then he snapped the rope about his body and gradually unwound it and then he snapped the rope that bound together his feet. Now he began to crawl for the two fellows. Inch by inch he moved along, like an Indian; and he never made a sound. That was good scouting for anybody, and especially for a one-armed boy, I tell you!

The general and I scarcely breathed. My heart thumped so that I was afraid it would shake the ground.

When he got near enough, Fitz reached cautiously, and pulled away the shotgun. Like lightning he opened the breech and shook loose the sh.e.l.l and kicked it out of the way--and when he closed the breech with a jerk Bat woke up.

”You keep quiet,” snapped Fitz. His eyes were blazing. ”If either of you makes a fuss, I'll pull the trigger.” He had the gun aiming straight at them both. Walt woke, too, and was trying to discover what happened. ”Be quiet, now!”

Those two fellows were frightened stiff. The gun looked ugly, with its round muzzle leveled at their stomachs, and Fitz behind, his cheeks red and his eyes angry and steady. But it was funny, too; he might have pulled trigger, but nothing would have happened, because the gun wasn't loaded. Of course none of us Scouts would have shot anybody and had blood on our hands. Fitz had thrown away the sh.e.l.l on purpose so that there wouldn't be any accident. It's bad to point a gun, whether loaded or not, at any one. This was a have-to case. Bat and Walt didn't know.

They were white as sheets, and lay rigid.

”Don't you shoot. Look out! That gun might go off,” they pleaded; we could hear their teeth chatter. ”If you won't point it at us we'll do anything you say.”

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