Part 20 (1/2)

”Yes,” Tom replied; ”when he heard us talking, that other time, he must have walked over to this spot, where he could poke out his head, and look down.”

”You don't see anything of him around, do you, Tom.”

”Never a sign,” came the answer. ”Chances are, he's fast asleep inside.”

”And now, do we pick out our trees, and squat in them waiting, for him to show up?”

”We'll see if a little music will coax the old gentleman to show his nose. Which tree do you want, Felix?”

”Don't see much choice between them; but I suppose I might as well take this, because it seems to be a trifle closer to the den than the other,”

replied the boy from the East, indicating his selection.

”But it's smaller in the bargain,” complained Tom; ”don't you think you'd better let me have that one?”

For answer the other commenced to climb; and as there was nothing else to be done Tom followed suit. He knew that Felix had a stubborn streak in his make-up; and in fact he liked him all the better for it, because, without such spice, in Tom's mind, a fellow would be like cake without the ginger in it, flat and commonplace.

”Well, here we are,” commented Felix, after he had fixed himself comfortably, and raised his rifle to his shoulder several times, as though wis.h.i.+ng to make certain that he could cover any advancing enemy without difficulty.

”How does it suit you?” asked Tom, grinning.

”Oh! I've sat on worse seats, one of 'em a wasps' nest,” replied Felix.

”All right. Now, what'll we sing?” continued the other.

”Sing?” echoed Felix.

”Yes, to coax our grizzly to look out. Strike up any old song you like, and if I happen to know it, I'll join in; I can do that anyhow, because our audience ain't going to be particular. Fact is, the worst noise we make, the more chance of his coming out in a bad temper.”

”All right, just as you say, Tom,” laughed Felix, falling in with the humor of the idea.

Accordingly, Felix began to sing some school song, at the top of his voice, and his chum joined in with a pretty good ba.s.s. They went clean through with a verse, and roared out the chorus in good style, although Felix was laughing so hard at the end that the effect was terrific.

”If he can stand that howl, he's equal to anything,” the latter remarked, as they finished; ”see any signs of our friend yet, Tom?”

”Sorry to say I don't,” replied the other; ”though that ought to have fetched him hurrying out, to see what lunatic asylum had broken loose.

Hit up another verse, my boy, and give him all the variations you can.”

So they went through with it, yet there was not the first sign of the grizzly.

”That's queer,” remarked Tom, when after they had completed their duet, not a single thing occurred; only the gaping mouth of the den mocked them, with vacancy behind it.

”Don't fancy the tune, perhaps?” suggested Felix, humorously.

”That might be so. The old fellow might have his favorites. Can you give him a change, Felix, something more solemn like. He must have a weak spot, if only we could hit on it. Strike up 'Plunged in a Gulf of Deep Despair,' or something that thrills you the same way.”

Accordingly, as he liked to be obliging, and the situation appealed to his fine sense of humor, Felix did start a song that sounded very much like the ”Dead March of Saul.” Tom added all the touches possible; and had anybody chanced to be in the vicinity he must have thought he had struck a camp meeting.

”How's that?” asked Felix, when they had finished.

”Simply elegant, take it from me. Queer that we haven't thought to sing a little while we sat around the blazing fire nights,” declared Tom.