Boy Scouts on Hudson Bay | Page 7

broad shoulders in a very Frenchy fashion
as he replied.
"I sall call out and ask ze same what he do, sare; and if so be he try to
run away, pouf; I ze gun will fire, taking aim to vound ze rascal in ze
leg, and not kill."
"Sounds rather war-like, don't it, Ned?" remarked Jack.
"Well, you must remember that this is a wild country up here," the
leader of the expedition went on to say, soberly; "and that men are
accustomed to looking on all others as enemies until they prove to be
friends. A man who would sneak up and hover over our boats, on being
addressed, if he were honest would throw up his hand at once and come
into camp. Only a sneak thief would try and cut for it. And from my
way of looking at it Francois would be justified in giving him a bullet
in the leg, or a charge of Number Sevens in the last place he could see
as the man galloped away."
As several of the scouts were yawning at a prodigious rate it was now
concluded that the time had come to crawl under their blankets and get
some sleep. This going to bed was never a very long-drawn-out
operation with the scouts when in the open. Each boy would remove
his shoes, after taking off his leggings, then follow with his outer
garments, and after that just snuggle down under his warm covering,
and forgetting all his troubles until the summons came that breakfast
was almost ready.
On this especial occasion they vanished inside the tents, leaving the
guides at the fire smoking their last pipe of tobacco, which both of
them had to indulge in before they could think of sleeping.

After that none of the boys knew a single thing until they were rudely
awakened by hearing some one call out roughly.
Immediately afterwards there came a peremptory hail, and then a loud
report that must have come from a gun.
Of course there was a hustle in both tents, and it was astonishing how
quickly each scout managed to get some of his clothes on. A
professional fireman could hardly have shown more expedition about
dressing than Ned and Jack did, though hampered more or less in the
operation by the darkness.
They had been very careful to remember just where their guns had been
placed, so that as soon as they donned clothes it was easy to snatch up
these weapons, after which they burst out of the tent.
The fire was beginning to revive, showing that some one must have
tossed fresh fuel upon the smouldering logs. One glance that way told
Ned several hours must have elapsed since he lay down, and that it was
even now long after midnight. He would have been able to tell within
an hour what time of night it was, had he been given a few seconds to
look up at the heavens to note the position of the new stars in sight.
CHAPTER III.
WAS IT A SPY?
The other fellows were coming crawling out from the larger tent when
Ned and Jack reached the open air. All of them were carrying guns, as
though laboring under an impression that the camp must be assailed by
a rival force.
They found the two guides standing there, and peering out toward a
certain quarter. Both were too old hands at this sort of thing to show the
least sign of excitement, but Jimmy made up for any lack on their part.
"For the love of Mike where's the invader now? Did he trample all over
you, Francois, and is that the brand of his cloven hoof on your hunting

shirt now? Was it the same old bull moose, or a new kind of muskeg
giant, as big as a church? Show him to me, and see how quick I'll bowl
the critter over!"
"Keep still, will you, Jimmy, and let Ned do the talking," advised Jack.
"What did you fire at, Francois?" asked Ned, turning to the guide, for
somehow he seemed to naturally guess that it was the French Canadian
who had done the shooting, possibly because his voice had been heard
raised in a challenge.
"Man, at all I know, sare," replied the other, still looking out into the
semi-gloom wistfully.
"I heard you call out loud enough, just as you said you would do," Ned
continued; "and instead of answering, did he turn and run away?"
"Zat is just what happen," replied the guide. "He act mooch like ze spy,
and so I give heem ze shot."
"Do you think you hit him, Francois?" demanded Frank.
The other rolled up his shoulders, and made the usual "face" as he
answered:
"I do not