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Pony Rider Boys in New England

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<h2>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> <h3>AN EXCITING QUEST</h3> A new crashing in the bushes off to the right of them caused Tad to swing about in that direction, peering apprehensively, not knowing what to expect. "Ugh-ugh-ugh, oo-oo-ooo—o-o-o-o!" Stacy Brown uttered a yell, for it seemed to him that the ground had shaken under his feet with that terrible roar. Stacy bolted. "Don't run! You'll get lost!" shouted Tad. There was no stopping the fat boy now. Fortunately Chunky did not get far. The plunging ponies sent him off in another direction, the little animals in their fear settling back on their haunches until they broke their tethers, after which they plunged away into the forest. Tad did not have much time to think. A bellowing roar sounded almost under foot, it seemed, then suddenly a great hulk came into view. It was then that Tad understood. It was a giant moose that had been calling for its mates. The instant the animal set eyes on the Pony Rider Boy its anger seemed to be aroused. With a bellow the animal started for him. Tad fired from the hip. He had no time to take careful aim. As it was, his bullet nearly put an end to the moose, for the leaden missile bored a hole through one of the big ears. The boy fired again, but he was too late. The moose charged into the camp with a terrifying roar. Tad leaped aside as the beast cleared the camp-fire and went crashing into the lean-to, and, as he leaped, Butler's rifle was knocked from his hands. Springing as far up a small tree as he could the Pony Rider Boy climbed as he had never climbed before. He was breathing hard, though holding himself under perfect control. In the meantime the moose was working havoc with the camp below. The lean-to was razed to the ground in a twinkling. The great antlers were driving in here and there; browse beds went up into the air, while the beast stamped and raged, now and again uttering its weird "Ugh, ugh, ugh!" Tad Butler had never experienced anything quite so terrifying. Yet he found himself wondering how long he would be able to cling to the tree in case the animal decided to stay in the camp. But the moose soon solved this problem for him. The beast, after threshing and tearing about until it had vented its rage, suddenly bounded away toward the beach. Tad heard the huge beast leap into the lake with a mighty splash. The boy slid to the ground and ran to the water's edge, first having picked up his rifle, and sent a volley of shots after the moose, but he did not know whether or not any of them reached the mark. Tad's thoughts turned to his companion. "Oh, Stacy!" he called. "Hello," answered a voice that seemed to come from the air overhead. Tad looked up. He saw the scared face of his companion peering down at him from a low tree. "Come down. The fun is all over." Stacy clambered part of the way down, then paused. "Has he gone, sure?" "Yes, he is on the other side of the lake by this time. Look at this camp," said Tad, surveying the remains ruefully. "It isn't a camp; it's a hodge-podge." "I agree with you. Let's get the fire going the first thing we do. I am afraid we shan't get much sleep tonight. By the way, you had better look to those ponies," advised Butler. "I—I don't want to." "Why not?" "I guess I'm afraid." "Pooh!" "They're gone!" yelled the fat boy a couple of minutes later. "They have broken away." Tad was at first startled at this announcement, but he took tight hold of himself, steadied himself, and after a moment or so had his emotions well in hand. "Help me set the camp to rights," he said calmly. "You aren't going to stay here, are you?" "Of course. Where else should we go?" "But the big, big moose may come back," protested Stacy, his teeth chattering. "He is just as likely to call at some other place. I hardly think he will pay us another visit." "Say, Tad." "What?" "It just occurs to me. What a lucky thing for you it is that you didn't kill that—that fellow." "Why?" "Old Halliday would have sent you to jail for life if you had." "I am not worrying about what the squire might do to me," laughed Butler. "I have more important matters to occupy my mind just now. Come, Chunky, get busy." "What are you going to do about those ponies?" "Nothing. At least, not now. We can do nothing until daylight, and perhaps not then. Do you see what has occurred?" "I see a lot that has occurred," answered Stacy. "Our dishes are gone, smashed so we shan't be able to use them again." Stacy groaned. "I knew something would come along to put the finishing touches on. Now what are we going to do?" he demanded. "I don't know. I shall plan out something if we are let alone long enough." The boys got to work at once. They toiled with a will, chopping in the light of the campfire, dragging logs, saplings and browse into the camp, making every move count, Stacy doing his part manfully. In another hour they had made a second camp. Of course, it was not as complete as the first camp had been, but it proved to be an excellent piece of woodcraft by the time they decided to stop work for the night. Tad induced Stacy to turn in while he himself sat up to be ready in case of a return of their visitor. The problem over which the Pony Rider Boy was now working was how to replace their ruined cooking outfit. He could get along very well with everything except boiling his water. Tad pondered and pondered over this, trying to recall something he had learned from Mr. Vaughn. After a time it came to him. "I've got it!" exclaimed the boy. Grabbing up his hatchet he darted out towards the lake front. Finding a birch tree, of which he was in search, Butler peeled off a long, thin sheet of bark, free from either knots or "eyes." From this he constructed a trough-shaped bucket after several clumsy attempts, in which he nearly ruined his material. The folds of this bucket were pinned together with green twigs, below what was to be the water line. This simple affair being completed Tad raked a bed of coals from the fire, placing the bucket on them after he had taken it down to the lake and filled it with water. The Pony Rider Boy sat squatting in front of the bucket observing it eagerly. His patience was rewarded within five minutes. The water in the bucket began to boil. "I guess we will have our coffee in the morning," he chuckled triumphantly. "But I forgot; we have no coffee pot. I don't see why I can't make one in the same way." Tad did. It was not a handsome pot, but it was almost worth its weight in gold to the two boys. Stacy, on getting up that morning, saw the water boiling merrily on a bed of hot coals. He eyed the contrivance curiously. "What do you call that thing?" he demanded. "That, sir, is my patent water boiler." "Oh!" "What did you think it was?" "I thought it was a steam engine. I didn't know but you were going to start a sawmill out here. Good place for one, isn't it?" "There is plenty of material here," nodded Tad. "Say, what are you doing?" demanded the fat boy, peering, craning his neck at Tad who was busily engaged with his back turned towards his companion. "I am getting breakfast." "Yes, but your motions are suspicious. That's the way my aunt acts when she is cleaning fish." "I am cleaning fish." "What?" "Look!" Tad held up for the inspection of the fat boy a handsome speckled trout, fully twelve inches long. Stacy threw a hand to his eyes. "Don't! Don't! I can't stand it to be tortured this way!" "What's the matter with you?" demanded Tad sharply. "Don't torture me by playing such ghastly jokes on my appetite," begged Chunky. "You must be crazy. This is a trout that I caught this morning from the lake, with a rig I made. There are two apiece. If two of these fat fellows don't satisfy your appetite I don't know what will." "Yeow!" howled Chunky. "Stop your nonsense. Go get two nice hard-wood sticks about two feet long, and a half inch thick. Peel them and give them to me." "What are you going to do?" "Oh, don't ask so many questions, unless you don't care about breakfast." "Don't care about breakfast?" fairly shrieked the fat boy. "I'd sell my shirt for a full meal right now." "I will let you off cheaper than that," laughed Butler. "Dump some coffee into the coffee pot. You know how much to put in. What about those sticks?" Stacy having brought the sticks, Tad sharpened them; then, spitting a trout on each, held the fish over the glowing bed of coals that he had massed for the purpose. The red and blue of the trout began slowly turning to a rich brown, and a savory odor, almost maddening to the hungry Stacy Brown, filled the air. "You will have to get along without salt this morning. I'm going to make some as soon as I can get to it," promised Tad. "Never mind the salt. Hurry! How are you going to make salt?" "Mr. Vaughn says that the Indians use the ashes of hickory bark as a substitute for salt, and that it is fine. To obtain the ash he says the stem and leaves are first rolled up into balls while green, and, after being carefully dried, are placed on a very small fire on a rock and burned." "Huh! I am mighty glad you aren't going to stop to make salt before breakfast," answered Chunky. "Give me that trout." "It isn't done yet." "I can't help that. Give it to me." "Oh, if you want to be a wild animal, why dip in." Chunky did. He devoured the fish, bones and all, though he did decide not to eat the head. He ate the other end, though. While Stacy was thus enjoying himself, Butler cooked the other fish. By that time the coffee was ready and the two lost boys sat down to their breakfast, while the forest resounded with the shrill "ah, te-te, te-te, te" of the white-throated sparrow, the songs of the chickadee and blue-jay, the thrumming of the pigeon woodpecker, the cries of the whistler-duck and the scream of the fish-hawk and the eagle. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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