Chums of the Camp Fire | Page 6

the pond.
"C-c-cracky!" burst out Toby, his face taking on an agonized look, as
though a sudden thought had struck him, and brought pain.
"What ails you now, Toby?" demanded Steve.
"Why, I was thinking of the c-c-circus that's expectin' to d-d-drop into

Carson around about m-m-midnight, that's what!"
"Say, that's a fact," Steve added; "they are showing this afternoon and
to-night over at Bloomingdale, and a train will fetch the lot to Carson
right after the last performance. If it storms they'll have a warm session
getting the cages of animals and the performing elephants off the cars."
"I thought s-s-some of s-s-staying up and g-g-goin' down to see the
animals come to t-t-town," admitted Toby; and of course none of the
others saw anything wonderful about that, knowing his great love for
animals as they did; though Bandy-legs did see fit to try and josh him a
little when he saw the chance.
"You certainly missed the biggest thing of your life when you didn't
hire out to old Noah," he told Toby. "Just think what a treat it'd been to
him, fellers, to stand there and check off all the animals big and little as
they walked aboard the ark in pairs, the elephant and the kangaroo, and
the little monkey too. But a measly storm oughtn't to keep you at home,
Toby."
"But they won't get in till near two in the morning, I'm told," protested
Toby; "and I guess my folks'd put the kibosh on my staying out that
late on a stormy night."
"Hurrah! did you hear him say all that without a single stagger?" cried
the boy with the bow-legs; "wisht my troubles'd be as easy to drop as
his stuttering is. But mine stick with me all the time."
"There's a good place ahead of you, Bandy-legs," advised Max; "now
show us what you can do. Steve is high notch so far with his gi-gantic
mastodon frog. Beat him out at his little game, Bandy-legs, if you can."
The boy with the target rifle quickly added another victim to those
whose prized hinder quarters lay in a heap in the trout basket Toby had
slung over his shoulder.
"That makes fifteen, and only five more to get to cover the twenty,"
Steve announced; "but if they were all whoppers like mine, say, the

basket wouldn't be big enough to hold them, I reckon."
The hunt went on, and by the time the sun had passed pretty well down
the western sky, heading for the black bank of clouds that lay
menacingly there, the frog hunters had completed the circuit of the big
pond. They had exceeded their expectations also, for several beyond
the score had been bagged.
"A good afternoon's work, I take it," remarked Steve, who was feeling
very well satisfied, because he had secured the biggest frog ever seen in
that part of the country, the patriarch of the lot apparently; nor did the
fact that his face was still streaked with dried mud, and his clothes
looked like those of a common hobo, seem to detract from his bubbling
joy.
They started for home along the road that led to Carson. This was
something of a favorite highway, and they were apt to meet various
vehicles while tramping over the mile and a half that separated them
from home.
Just as he had said he would do, whenever they chanced to meet a
carriage Steve proved quick to dodge into the scrub, and after the
danger had passed overtake his companions by hurrying. Steve was
always good at hurrying; it was his favorite way of doing things, and
nothing pleased him better than a chance to sprint, in order to come up
with his mates.
They had perhaps covered half of the journey, and the church spires of
Carson could be easily seen in the near distance when all at once they
noticed a horse and buggy coming at a lively clip along the road.
"Looks like a runaway!" snapped Steve.
"It sure does," admitted Bandy-legs, "and what d'ye think of that, if the
girl in the same ain't Bessie French I'll eat my hat!"
"W-what!" almost roared the now excited Steve, stopping in his
intention to beat a hasty retreat, the neighboring bushes offering a

splendid asylum.
"It's Bessie, all right," said Max; "but about her being run away with,
I'm not so sure, because she knows how to handle horses first rate; and
that old Bill of the Frenchs' never was known to cut up before."
But Steve apparently did not hear a single word that Max said. He was
quivering with eagerness, and a wild desire to distinguish himself as a
hero, in the eyes of the pretty girl whom he had been taking to barn
dances and such