Chapter XV: Days of Real Sport

"You're dead sure nothing was taken, are you, Frank?" Bluff demanded first of all, his suspicions running in the direction of a sneak thief.

"We looked, but couldn't find the first trace of anything having been stolen," he was assured. "Things seemed knocked around a bit, and the door was ajar, though we left it tightly closed, but that was all."

"It surely is a deep mystery," admitted Jerry, with a puzzled expression on his face. Jerry had never been remarkably clever at finding out hidden things, and the whiff of a mystery generally confused him.

"I'd be inclined to think it must have been some sort of animal," ventured Bluff, "only you feel certain you fastened the door, so a dog or a wildcat couldn't get inside."

"Besides," spoke up Will, "if it had been any sort of animal bent on getting something to eat, wouldn't we see signs of his nosing around in the cabin?"

"That's a fact," admitted Bluff, immediately, "there's that shank of our ham lying right on the table where we left it. I said we'd boil the same the first chance we got, so as to get the pickings. Any dog would have pulled that on to the floor and gnawed at it."

"Oh, well, what's the use guessing when we haven't got a single clue to go on?" remarked Jerry. "Let's change the subject and talk of something pleasant."

"One thing I know," said Will, with a happy smile.

"Then tell us, won't you?" asked Bluff.

"I'm going to set my little trap again to-night for Br'er 'Coon," continued the enthusiastic amateur photographer.

"Huh! wonder what you'll spot next time?" observed Bluff. "You nailed an old fellow that you tell us is Aaron Dennison himself. I hope the next crack won't give us a picture of the Old Nick himself, horns, split hoofs, forked tail and all! Ugh!"

"Well," muttered Jerry, "seems to me when you set one of those flashlight traps right in the woods of nights you never can tell what kind of a job you're going to get away with."

Will laughed as though amused.

"Why," he went on to say, "don't you understand that's part of the game? The uncertainty of the thing adds to the charm. You never do know exactly what you're going to strike."

"Well," Jerry continued, shaking his head in a contrary fashion as though far from convinced, "I never did take much to the grab-bag business--putting your hand in, and groping around to pull out a prize or a blank."

"Ditto here, Jerry," spoke up Bluff; "I prefer to know what I'm trying for, and then chasing after it for all I'm worth."

"Oh, well, what's the use of talking?" Will concluded. "Many men, many minds. It's a mighty good thing everybody doesn't think alike. Variety is the spice of life, they say. But excuse me, fellows; I've got some work to do developing the snaps I took yesterday."

That was the last they saw of Will for some time. Once he buried himself in that fascinating photographic labor to which he was devoted heart and soul, it required some strong incentive such as a summons to dinner, to make him break away.

After noon had come and gone, the boys settled down into something like the old life. Less was said about events that had occurred, while new plans were being broached for the immediate future.

Having secured some live bait with a little seine made of mosquito netting, Bluff and Frank tried the fishing, using the boat to reach what seemed to be good ground. A hidden ledge of rock ran from the point, and Frank judged that where the water was something like ten feet deep there ought to be bass.

His figuring proved to be correct, for they were soon busily engaged in playing the fish that struck the live minnows. At times the work became even exciting, as a larger and more gamy fish took hold.

Jerry, who also liked to fish, watched the sport from the shore and envied those who were thus engaged. The next time he was asked by Bluff to accompany him in the boat Jerry's answer would be of a different nature. This was a time when his laziness cost him dearly, he admitted to himself, as he watched Bluff lift a struggling bass into the boat, and then heard him give a yell of triumph.

Will had long since finished developing the films, and all they had heard him say with reference to them was that they seemed to have turned out "pretty fair."

About three o'clock in the afternoon, however, he set to work and printed a lot of proofs by the aid of the sun which aroused the interest and admiration of the other three.

Frank in particular was delighted to find they would have such splendid views by which to remember their singular adventure. The one of "Old Aaron and His Rod," as Will designated it, was perfectly clear and reflected considerable credit on the artist who had snatched it off on the spur of the moment.

Over the proof that showed the strange ledge of rock under which the two storm-bound fugitives had passed the night, Bluff and Jerry lingered longest. There seemed to be some peculiar fascination about the picture that held their attention.

"Some time soon, Frank," said Bluff, "we must go up there and take a look into that cave under the rock. It was a bright dodge on your part to notice the formation of the ground in passing, and then remember it right away when the necessity arose for shelter from the rain, wind and lightning."

"Which only shows," remarked Will, shaking a warning finger at Bluff, "that you ought to keep your eyes about you every minute of time when you're tramping through a woodsy country. You never know the second you'll be called on to remember something. And also let me say that it's best to have along with you a chum who never gets left, no matter what happens."

Even Frank had to join in the general laugh that greeted this wise sally.

"My advice to you all is, never depend on anybody else to pull your chestnuts out of the fire, but learn to do things for yourself," was all the remark Frank would allow himself to make.

They had fresh fish for supper that evening, and such fish! Bluff himself cooked them, and of late he had proven himself to be a most excellent hand at getting up a meal.

His method, of course, was the usual camp way of using fat salt pork melted down in the pan until it was sizzling hot; then placing in the fish, nicely covered with cracker crumbs, and allowing the fish to become browned all over, as well as fairly crisp before pronouncing them done.

Every one enjoyed them, and it was voted unanimously that fish should form one of the staple dishes of their stay in camp at Cabin Point.

Judging from the game qualities of the bass, there would be no lack of candidates for the honor of pulling them in. Even Will, who did not as a rule profess to be much of a sportsman, declared he believed he would like to test that new "pole" which his father had given him for Christmas; at which Bluff groaned, and immediately threw up his hands in affected horror, exclaiming:

"Pole! For goodness' sake, Will, never call that dandy lancewood rod by such a degrading name again. The farmer's boy cuts a pole from the bushes, or buys a fifteen-foot one at the grocery store, the kind that comes up from the Louisiana swamp districts. A true sportsman carries a jointed _rod_--spell it out, r-o-d. Why, I'd turn red to the roots of my hair if ever you said 'pole' in the presence of real disciples of Isaac Walton."

"Oh, well, 'rod,' if you prefer it that way," chuckled Will. "But no matter what you call it, the farmer boy's pole is generally the one that knocks the persimmons down."

"That taffy about the genuine sportsman buying his fish from the barefooted farmer's boy is as old as the hills," retorted Bluff. "Maybe it's been true in some cases; but I've seen the time when the man with the fly tackle, and who knew how to use it, got all the fish, while the barefooted boy could only look on."

"There!" exclaimed Frank with a laugh, "I knew the worm would turn some day. Up to now there's been no champion for the man with the fancy fly rod. It was the boy who used the humble worm who did all the business. He'll have to take a back seat after this when our chum Bluff is around."

No one knew whether the flashlight did its duty on that particular night or not--that is until Will hurried out early in the morning and brought his camera in.

He had cleverly arranged it so that when the cord was pulled that set the cartridge off it also caused the time-exposure arrangement on the camera to work. Thus for perhaps several seconds the delicate film was exposed, after which the action caused it to become once more securely hidden from the light. In this way it was not necessary for the operator to get out to his camera before daylight came in order to save his night's work.

All of them had slept soundly. If Frank did happen to arouse several times during the night he saw and heard nothing to indicate that there were any animals prowling around in the vicinity of the camp.

Will knew, however, that his trap had worked, for the bait was gone, the cord pulled taut, and he could even detect traces of sharp claws around the spot.

It turned out that he had managed to secure a splendid snapshot of the big fellow boasting the striped tail; indeed, the picture was bound to be one of the most prized in all his collection.

That day also passed with nothing unusual happening. The campers enjoyed every hour of it, for there always appeared to be a variety of things awaiting their attention, and all of the boys were full of vigor.

Bluff noticed that it had gradually grown quite warm, after the delightful cool spell following the big storm.

"And a hot wave means another rattler, I should guess," he declared when discussing the weather with his comrades.

Bluff had of late shown a disposition to prove himself somewhat of a weather prophet. He studied the various conditions of the sky, noted the mottled clouds that people used to say denoted rain, consulted calendars he had brought along that explained the phases of the moon, and every little while solemnly announced that according to all the signs such and such a condition of weather was going to follow.

It was on the second morning that Bluff outlined his plan. Waiting until they had all eaten the excellent breakfast which he himself had prepared, and until he had reason to believe Frank must be in an especially good humor, Bluff spoke up.

"Frank, why not all of us go up to that rock ledge to-day before the weather takes a turn for the worse? How about it, Jerry; are you game for a tramp?"

"Every time," came the immediate response; "and as you say, if we're going to have a look in at that queer section of the country, to-day's as good a time as any."

To the delight of both boys, Frank offered no objection. In fact, he himself felt rather inclined to do a little more exploring, for the country in that region interested him deeply. And so presently the four left their cabin camp to plunge into the woods.