The Outdoor Chums | Page 2

have it your own way. I've tried my best to show you what a genuine sportsman should be like, always giving the game a fair chance. Didn't I induce you to quit fishing with that murderous gang-hook last summer; and when you did finally get a bass didn't you feel prouder than if you just '_yanked_' him in, perhaps caught on the outside of his gills with some of that deadly jewelry?" demanded Jerry, whose one hobby was the "square deal" in all that he undertook.
"I acknowledge the corn about the gang-hook; but that has nothing to do with an up-to-date, repeating shotgun, and other things such as modern campers use. I've kept posted, and I know what's going on. Some people seem to be asleep, and are just contented to do as their forefathers did. I'm progressive, that's what."
"Well, boys," Frank Langdon here broke in with, "suppose you postpone that old chestnut of a dispute until we're snug in camp; and let's talk about how the thing can be done. The first thing is to get consent at home."
"I don't believe we need fear any trouble there. Frank, you call us up on the 'phone in about an hour, and if everything's lovely and the goose hangs high we'll meet at my house and make definite arrangements," said Will, whose mother was a well-to-do widow, and seldom refused her idolized son any reasonable request.
"We could go on our motor-cycles, and have a wagon bring the duffle along. If it started at a decent hour in the morning we'd be able to get in camp by the middle of the afternoon, and have things fixed fairly well for the first night," suggested Jerry, his eyes bright with anticipations of a delightful time ahead.
"You've got all the things needed, Frank; and now we'll see what your experience up in Maine amounted to. Say, ain't this just glorious? Think of it, two weeks' outing at this beautiful time of the year, and up there in the woods where we were just planning to go next summer. I wonder if old Jesse Wilcox has begun to set his traps yet; that's his stamping-ground, you know, during the winter, and he makes quite a haul of muskrats, 'coons, some mink and even an otter once in a long while," said Bluff, enthusiastically--he was always a leading spirit in new ventures, but lacked the pertinacity of Frank.
"Don't you worry, old fellow, I'll be Johnny-on-the-spot when it comes to delivering the goods. But all further talking had better be put off until we find out whether we can go or not. So I move we adjourn, to meet again an hour from now at Will's shack," remarked young Langdon, always logical.
They had stopped to talk the matter over alongside one of the stores in the town; and indeed Bluff was perched upon an empty box, that lay at the foot of a small pyramid of similar cases, piled up until such time as they could be sold or destroyed.
While the others were talking, Jerry had made a little discovery that aroused both his curiosity and his temper: he had seen a touseled head, surmounted by a cap he knew full well, push up a little above the rim of the most elevated empty box, as if some concealed listener might be endeavoring to hear better, and in his eagerness recklessly exposed himself in this way.
Jerry was always prompt about doing things, nor did he, as a rule, stop to figure what the immediate consequences might prove to be.
Indignation at the idea of their conference having been overheard possessed his soul, and, seeing a splendid chance to bring the plans of the listener to a sudden and disastrous end, he managed without warning to give one of the boxes a flirt with his hand that moved it out a foot or two.
As it happened to be the keystone of the arch, the consequence was the entire pile came tumbling down, much after the fashion of a crumbling church during an earthquake.
Bluff gave a wild shout, and sprang to a position of safety, to turn and stare in astonishment at the remarkable result of the catastrophe.
From under the ruins a figure came crawling slowly, rubbing sundry places about his legs and sides, where the sharp corners of the boxes had been in cruel contact with his flesh.
"Why, it's Andy Lasher!" exclaimed Jerry, pretending to be wonderfully surprised. "Where in the world did you come from--hiding in that drygoods box, eh? Up to some of your old tricks, Andy, I guess. Going to carry off the whole dry-goods emporium that time, perhaps?"
The boy managed to get upon his feet, though he continued to limp around and rub his legs vigorously, as he whistled to keep from groaning.
Andy Lasher was