Chapter VI
Peleg Pinder’s Heavy Load
“Don’t move!”
Tubby knew that when Rob Blake spoke in that tense way he meant what he said; so, although he felt an inclination to shrink back from that terrible vision of an enraged bobcat, he managed to grit his teeth together and hold his ground.
Ralph, Sim and Andy took the admonition to heart as well as did the fat boy, for they seemed rooted to their tracks, all staring as hard as they could up into the lower branches of the tree just in front.
The cat could be plainly seen crouching there, with its ears flattened against its head, after the manner of all enraged felines. It was a pretty “hefty” specimen of its kind, too, Rob saw, much larger and more powerful than the ordinary cat.
Undoubtedly, it “sensed” a feast beyond the boundary fence, and had started to pay a neighborly visit with dinner in mind when interrupted by the approach of the five boys. Being accustomed to lording it over other animals in its native forests, the wildcat did not fancy beating a retreat simply because some of those two-legged creatures chose to cross its path.
That ominous growl was meant as a warning to them to beware how they incurred its animosity. From the way in which its haunches had settled upon the limb, it appeared as though the beast might be in readiness to make a leap; and it was because of this that Rob had instantly hissed those words.
At the time it chanced he was just a little in the advance; hence his position was more inclined to be a perilous one than could be said of his companions. None of them had any weapon handy with which to defend themselves in case the animal really attacked them; though Sim and Andy immediately began to use their eyes to advantage in the hope of being able to see a club of some sort, always the first resort of a boy in trouble.
“Tell us what to do, Rob!” urged Sim, who had actually discovered the cudgel he wanted to possess, yet did not dare make a move toward getting it in his grip lest by so doing he tempt the savage beast to spring.
“Stand perfectly still!” ordered the patrol leader. “You can do more good that way than by moving. If we all just stare at him, he’ll soon get uneasy, not knowing what to make of such a mysterious crowd. Animals hate to look into human eyes, they say. I’ve stared a dog out of countenance that way myself.”
“Huh!” grunted Tubby, remembering how he had once tried that same game himself with a barking puppy, getting down on his hands and knees to manage better, only to have the little varmint instantly seize hold of his nose and hang on.
“How would it do for all to give a big yell together?” suggested Ralph.
“That might make him jump, I take it,” replied Andy Bowles, wishing he had his bugle handy, for with it he could sound a shrill blast that would surely cause the impudent cat to retreat in haste.
“Yes, it would startle him, all right,” admitted Rob, “but he might jump the wrong way, and at us. Better try my scheme; it can do no harm, and I don’t think he’ll attack us unless we begin the fight.”
“I see a bully club close by my feet, Rob.”
“Well, don’t bother trying to get hold of it just yet,” urged the other. “But if he should leap at me, see to it you grab that club in a big hurry, and let him have it with a smack. Steady, now, you can see the beast’s beginning to get uneasy right along.”
“Yes, you’re right, he is, Rob,” admitted Ralph, with a vein of relief in his voice, for no fellow can entertain the idea of battling bare-handed with a fierce four-footed adversary without shivering; and Ralph knew only too well how even a scratch from the claws of a carnivorous animal may cause blood poisoning if not properly treated in time.
So they all continued to stand there as nearly like statues as their various dispositions would allow, keeping up a battery of staring looks that must have more or less bewildered the intruder.
Tubby heaved a great sigh. It was additionally hard on him, this trying to keep absolutely still, lest by moving an attack be precipitated, the end of which none of them could see.
“Gee whiz! isn’t he ever going to skip out?” he groaned, feeling the drops of perspiration gathering on his forehead, and running down his stubby nose, yet being deprived of the satisfaction of taking out his red bandanna and wiping his streaming face as he would have liked.
“Have a little more patience, Tubby,” pleaded Sim. “He’s getting ready to vamoose the ranch, I tell you. There, didn’t you see how he took a quick peek behind him? They say that in a fight the man who looks back is the one who is getting whipped, because he’s thinking of beating it. Watch, now, and be ready to give him a parting whoop if he does jump over the fence again.”
The strange bobcat somehow found it unpleasant to remain there on private grounds, and with those five queer creatures facing him so mutely. They meant him harm, of that he must have concluded, and perhaps he had better postpone his intended feast on plump fox cubs or young mink. Night would be a better time for his hunting; and a retreat could not be called dishonorable when the enemy counted five against one.
So, finally, he made a quick backward jump that allowed of a new perch just over the dividing fence. This movement was the signal for a sudden change of policy on the part of the boys, for they burst into a series of loud shouts, and Sim instantly darted forward to secure the coveted club.
The wildcat, having concluded to pull out and evidently not liking those aggressive sounds, continued its flight, growling savagely as it went, and looking back once before finally disappearing amidst the foliage of the trees beyond the high fence.
“That was an adventure, sure enough!” exclaimed Sim, breathing hard after his recent exertions. “Just to think of our running across such a tough customer when Ralph here was speaking about troublesome pests. Do you reckon this was his first visit to your pens, Ralph?”
“I hope and believe so,” the other replied, frowning at the same time. “I would hate to learn that it had become a habit with him. Besides, we have seen no signs around to indicate that he’d ever been here before. But the rascal has scented my pets, and will give us no peace until he’s done for.”
“I should say the same thing!” declared Rob. “It’s just like a wolf that threatens a sheep-fold, there can be no safety until he’s been potted.”
“I’ll see Pete at once,” continued the other, with a look of determination on his strong face, “and start him out with the dogs. If they’re lucky they’ll get on the track of the beast before sundown and, I hope, knock him over.”
The conversation then was mostly of the woods, and Ralph as well as some of the others mentioned a number of curious circumstances that had come under their observation while camping out. Ralph had formerly been quite a hunter and trapper whenever he had an opportunity, though, as he confessed, latterly the sport seemed to be palling upon him somewhat.
“To tell the truth, Sim,” he said, as they strolled back toward the distant farmhouse, after seeing Pete and starting him off with the dogs to look for traces of the feline thief, “I’m getting to be interested in that scheme of hunting with a camera, and I think I’ll take it up soon. There are plenty of good chances for doing something of that sort around here, you know. I want you to put me wise to all the wrinkles of the game before you say goodbye, which I hope won’t be for quite some time yet.”
“What are we going to do this afternoon, boys?” asked Andy.
“Well, if that question is aimed at me,” ventured Tubby, quickly, “I know what I’d like to do, that is if Ralph happens to have plenty of ammunition for that bully little Flobert rifle of his. Frogs for mine, thank you. One thing I like about this scheme of shooting the jumpers is it doesn’t seem half as cruel as catching them with a hook, even if you do intend to put them out of their misery soon afterwards.”
Tubby was known to have a tender heart, and would not hurt anything if he could possibly help it.
Ralph proposed that if the others felt inclined, they might make a run out to a certain lake he knew, where they would likely have a pleasant time.
“Whether we get any bass or not we’ll certainly enjoy the run with you, Ralph,” Rob told him. “As we’ve gone to the trouble to fetch some rods and fishing tackle along, it would be a pity not to wet the lines just once. So far as I’m concerned, I only too gladly say ‘yes’ to your proposition.”
Sim and Andy immediately voiced their sentiments in the same way, and so it was settled. Tubby would be fixed out with the small Flobert rifle and a supply of ammunition, also rubber boots, for he might have to do some wading in order to retrieve his game after shooting it. He promised to have a mess of frogs’ legs ready for the evening meal when the boys came back.
“See to it that you fellows do your duty with the gamey bass!” he called out as the other four piled into the big car, ready to start forth.
“I heard you call that young chap, who was filling the gas tank, Peleg; is he one of the workmen on the farm, Ralph?” Rob asked after they had gotten fairly started, for he chanced to be sitting alongside the driver at the time, the other boys occupying the rear seat.
He saw that Ralph had a slight frown on his face, as though something unpleasant had come into his mind just then, possibly induced by mention of the name.
“Yes, his name is Peleg Pinder,” he replied in jerky sentences. “His father was a sort of hard case in Wyoming, and the family seemed to be always in a peck of trouble. Some folks said the children’d all be worthless, just like their good-for-nothing dad. Then there was a fire, and Peleg’s father was burned trying to save an old crippled woman. Somehow people thought better of him after he died. The children scattered. One girl is working for a farmer seven miles away. My father took Peleg in, and gave him a home. Been with us six months or so now.”
“How about his work—he seems lively enough, and good-natured. In fact,” continued Rob, “I rather like the sparkle in his eyes.”
“Yes, he fooled me right along, too,” said Ralph, with a trace of a sneer in his tone. “He does his work so you couldn’t really find any fault; but then it’s hard to shake off a bad name, and the Pinders always were shiftless and deceitful, Wyoming folks believe.”
Rob was interested at once, and for a reason. He hated to see any one “picked on” simply because “people” chose to believe no good could come out of a family that had a shirker for a father. Why, the very fact that poor Pinder had died while performing an act of heroism ought to be enough to prove that such a wholesale condemnation was utterly wrong.
“You’ve got some sort of reason for saying that, I imagine, Ralph?” he continued, bent on discovering the truth now that he was at it.
“Well, I have, though I didn’t mean to mention it to any of you, because for one thing I wanted you to have a jolly time of it here, and without bothering about any of my troubles. Then, again, I hate to speak ill of anybody, even Peleg Pinder.”
“What has he been doing, then, to make you suspect him?” demanded Rob.
After hesitating for a brief interval, as though he hardly knew just how much to say, Ralph went on to explain.
“Hang it all,” he commenced, “I hate to say a word about it, because it makes me feel mean, just as if I might be picking on a poor chap who hadn’t any other friends but my folks, and who’s got a heavy enough load as it is. Believe me, I haven’t so much as breathed a word of this to dad. He’d fire Peleg if he knew, and then I might be sorry. But I’m honestly up a stump trying to decide what I ought to do.”
“Tell me about it then, Ralph; perhaps I might be able to help you out?” suggested the other.
“All right, then, I will!” declared the driver, as he skillfully avoided a hole in the road ahead. “About three days ago I made a little discovery that bothered me. It seemed that some one was helping themselves to some things I kept in that room out in the barn, a place I had fitted up a long while ago as a sort of boy’s den, you know, where I kept all my treasures, books, games, stamp collection and coins, as well as a lot of other things.”
“Yes, I remember you showing us, though you didn’t stay in there long, I noticed,” Rob went on to remark, significantly.
“That was because I felt bad about something,” explained Ralph. “Fact is, I had just made an unpleasant discovery, which was to the effect that some one had for the second time been poking around among my things, and carried off a number of packets of valuable stamps that I knew positively I had left there on the desk, meaning to return them to the dealer.”
“But if this happened once before,” said Rob, “how did it come you neglected to put a padlock on the door?”
“I had my reasons,” answered Ralph stoutly, and with a flash of fire in his eyes. “First, because I hated to think that anything had to be locked up so as to keep employees about the place from helping themselves. Second, I wasn’t quite sure that my first loss was a certainty. Then again, Rob, I was figuring on laying some sort of trap so as to catch the rascal in the act, and settle the business.”
“But now you are sure a light-handed fellow has taken your things, what do you expect to do about it?” queried Rob.
“I ought to warn my father,” said the other, regretfully. “He hates a thief above all things. I’m sure he would discharge Peleg in a hurry. You see, Peleg has always been allowed to enter my den as he pleased; in fact, anybody could, because I trust the men who work for us.”
“Well,” Rob continued, significantly, “I hope before you tell your father you let me try to identify the thief, because I don’t believe it can be Peleg Pinder.”