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Lil Artha even had it all arranged in his mind just how he meant to threaten that man with his gun, warning him savagely that it would be as much as his skin was worth to attempt to flee. It was in this humor that they came to a log that lay across their path. Here the trail ended, but, of course, such clever fellows as Elmer and Lil Artha would understand a little trick like that.
The elongated scout could hardly breathe, he was so full; but he heaved many a sigh as he noticed that a fresh plateful of those unexcelled pancakes had just been put on, with no one left to do them justice. Shaking his head sadly, Lil Artha finally managed to get on his feet and leave the dining-room.
"And say, he tells us right at the end of his note that he's some hungry," Lil Artha went on to remark; "and, according to my notion, that condition is next door to being insane. Why, mebbe the poor fellow hasn't had a solitary bite for a whole day or even two of 'em. I pity him from the bottom of my heart." "Notice what he incidentally says near the end," added Elmer.
Later on he could come and mend the new boat by fetching a plank to replace the one that had been staved in by striking a log at full speed. "Hope we see you again down at Hickory Ridge, Johnny!" called out Lil Artha after the bound boy. "Yes, and we won't forget that clever chicken trap of yours," added Toby, "even if the man did cut his companion free before we reached the spot.
I sure believe my ears must have fooled me!" exclaimed Lil Artha. "Hen Condit robbed his uncle and guardian, are you telling us, Landy?" gasped Toby; "aw! come off, now, you're just giving us taffy, thinking it smart."
Instead of looking down, Elmer kept glancing up. It might be he was mentally following the straddling figure along that great limb. Presently he abruptly stopped. "I can see signs that tell me he came this far, but they end up there," he told his companion. "Yes, and here you see fresh leaves on the ground. Look sharp, Lil Artha, and it may be your eyes will light on the fresh trail."
"They didn't happen to turn this way," said Elmer; "and since you all kept so still I don't believe they'd have noticed us even if they had looked. I want to say it was well done, boys." "That was Johnny Spreen, wasn't it?" asked Landy, as though he wanted to have someone corroborate what his own eyes had told him. "It certainly was," said Lil Artha.
In cases of snake-bite, fainting, cramps, near-drowning, cuts from the camp axe or hatchet, gun-shot wounds, broken bones, or, in fact, anything likely to happen to campers, Ted was what Lil Artha always called "Johnny-on-the-spot," though Toby could never pin him down to saying "which spot." Toby Jones was really the "funny" boy of the patrol.
The grumbling ceased as if by magic the moment he mentioned that word "breakfast," and Lil Artha immediately announced himself as being wide-awake. "H'm! seems like I could even smell the batter cakes frying right now, fellows," he told them, with a smack of his lips.
"Did you hear that, Elmer?" whispered Lil Artha, suddenly, throwing out a hand so as to clutch the other's arm; while everyone became rigid with suspense. "It certainly sounded like a cough," admitted the other.
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