The Boy Patrol Around the Council Fire by Edward Sylvester Ellis
CHAPTER XVIII -- A Match of Wits
It may be said that Zip had become the hero of the Boy Scout camp onGosling Lake. He belonged to the finest breed of bloodhounds in theworld and had given an illustration of that gift of his species whichapproaches the miraculous. The stories told by his master of his otherexploits, and of what had been done by his kind on Long Island andelsewhere, were absorbingly interesting. As young Burton remarked, hisstudy of this canine species had given him more knowledge than couldhave been the case otherwise, and he naturally did most of the talkingon that cool August night in front of the bungalow. The bloodhound isone of the most dignified of dogs, and resents anything in the nature offamiliarity by strangers. Alvin, Chester, Mike and several others triedto make friends with Zip, but he showed them plainly that he preferredto be left to himself.
"Ef it was meself that was as partic'lar as him to selict meassociates," said Mike, "I should faal mighty lonely, as Jim O'Tooleremarked after he had been lost for six weeks in the woods. I'llremimber yer coolness, Zip," he added, shaking his finger at the dognestling at the feet of Burton, "and to-morrer ye'll faal so ashamed,after ye try to match wits wid me, that ye'll resign as a bloodhound andbecome a poodle dog for the rist of yer days."
"Don't boast too soon," said the guest; "I'll put my stake on Zip everytime."
"And so will I," added Alvin; "if Mike was half as smart as he thinks heis, we should all be fools compared with him."
"_Some_ folks don't naad the comparisin to show they're lacking in thefirst ilimints of sense," retorted the Irish youth with fine sarcasm.
It was quite late when the boys retired for the night. No one would haveobjected to the presence of Zip in the bungalow, but his masterpreferred that he should spend the night outdoors, and he was waitingthere the next morning when Burton, the first to arise, came out to havea romp with him before breakfast.
It was about eight o'clock that the whole party of Boy Scouts includingtheir guest gathered on the front porch, eagerly interested in the testthat was to be made of the skill of Zip the bloodhound in following ascent. Every one was on the _qui vive_, for the novelty of theproceeding appealed to them.
The arrangements, simple of themselves, had been made while the partywas at breakfast. Three trials were to take place, involving that numberof Boy Scouts. Each was to plunge into the woods and use every devicepossible to hide his trail from the dog, which was to take up his taskan hour after the fugitive, as he may be called, left the bungalow.
The first runner was the diminutive Isaac Rothstein, the second, thetall, long-limbed Hoke Butler, and the third Mike Murphy.
"There is only one condition," said young Burton, when everything wasready; "you must not make any use of the lake. Zip can track you only tothe edge."
"The lake is the only water shut out?" remarked Hoke Butler inquiringly.The guest hesitated a moment, suspecting some intended trick by thequestioner.
"That is all."
"How about the Sheepscot River?" asked Mike.
"If an hour's start will enable you to reach that stream ahead of Zip,you win."
Scout Master Hall turned to Isaac, who was standing in the middle of thegroup on the porch. The bright-eyed youth nodded.
Burton spoke to the hound which, knowing what was expected of him, cameforward and sniffed around the Boy Scout's feet and ankles. He did thisfor only two or three seconds, when he backed off and took his placebeside his master.
"That means he is ready if you are."
"I am to have an hour's start?"
"More if you wish it."
"That's enough, and you are sure he will not attack me?"
"Have no fear of that, but I suggest that you do not tempt him."
"What do you mean by that?" asked young Rothstein.
"Don't tackle _him_ first; and when he comes up with you, as he is sureto do, stop running. The Belgian dogs have a trick of dodging betweenthe legs of a fugitive and tripping him, but the bloodhound prefers todrag him down."
"In other words," said Mike, "whin the dog gits ye down, and has hispaws on yer breast, and is hunting out the best place to begin hisfeast, h'ist the flag of truce."
Isaac, accompanied by Scout Master Hall and several of the boys, passedinto the bungalow, closing the door behind them, and went out of therear door which was also shut. The dog remained on the front porch withhis master and the other scouts, each party out of sight of the other. Afew minutes later, Isaac's friends rejoined their comrades, Burton andseveral of the Scouts glancing at their watches to note the time. Ziplay at his owner's feet, with his nose between his paws, as if intendingto pass the interval in sleep.
Before starting, Isaac was asked to explain his plan. He replied that itwas merely to do everything he could to puzzle his pursuer, and he wasconfident of succeeding. It was useless to make any effort at the start,and he walked away at his ordinary pace, quickly disappearing among thetrees.
The moment, however, he was out of sight he began the precautions he haddecided upon before starting. He turned at right angles, walked rapidlyfor a hundred yards, then changed again to the same extent. Since theshift each time was to the right, this made an exact reversal of thecourse upon which he set out, and being kept for a little while took himback to the bungalow, a rod or two from his starting point. No one sawhim, since every one was at the front. Thus he made a second get away,which delayed him for a few minutes.
Isaac chuckled, for he was sure he had played a cute trick upon the dog,which he believed would be puzzled thereby, and yet you and I canreadily see that there was "nothing in it" at all.
Again the youth dived in among the trees, or broke into a rapid run,going straightaway, but taking as long steps as he could. Then hezig-zagged, first to the right and left, describing irregular circleswhich assuredly would have led him astray had he not caught glimpses ofthe lake now and then, and thus knew the course he was following, whichin the main was toward the cabin of Uncle Elk.
He kept note of the time, and just before the hour expired made a longsweeping curve to the right, which brought him back to the opposite endof the bungalow from his starting point.
"Hurrah!" he called as he bounded up the steps among his friends;"where's Zip?"
"On your trail," replied his owner.
"Don't be too sure of that; I've given him the task of his life."
"Undoubtedly the easiest one; now that you have returned," said Burton,"you may as well tell us everything you did."
Isaac described his course from the first,--how he had actually startedtwice, often shifting and finally making a big curve, still marked byabrupt changes that were sure to baffle the keenest nosed bloodhoundthat ever tracked a fugitive into the depths of the Everglades.
"You couldn't have given Zip an easier task," said Burton; "when he lefthere a short time ago he circled about the clubhouse, and in threeminutes at the most took your scent."
"But didn't the two trails puzzle him?" asked the astonished Isaac.
"There was a difference of a few minutes in their making and he took thefreshest."
This sounded so incredible that the guest qualified his assertion.
"Even if he accepted the older scent, it led him straight to the second.All your circlings and doublings availed you nothing; you neverperplexed him for more than an instant."
"How can you know that?"
"There's your answer."
Burton nodded toward the steps up which Isaac Rothstein had come sometime before. There was Zip, who without baying or making any kind ofoutcry, galloped over the porch and directly to where the astounded ladwas sitting. Stepping a pace or two away, he looked up at the youth andthen walked over to his master and sat down beside his chair.
"You can translate his remarks," said the latter. "Words could not beplainer: 'There's the young man who thought he could fool me, but neverwas he more mistaken.'"
Isaac joined in the clapping of hands. Zip preserved his dignity andpaid no heed to strangers. A
"Next!" called Burton, and the tall, stoop-shouldered Hoke Butler roseto his feet.
"I don't want any help," he remarked with a wink toward Isaac Rothstein,as Zip sniffed about his feet; "stay right where you are. Mr. Burton, ahalf hour start will be enough for me."
"As you please, but you may have two hours if you wish."
"And we'll save our bouquets till Zip throws up the sponge," said Mike,"or rather until I tries me hand with the intilligint canine."
Instead of leaving the bungalow from the rear, Hoke walked deliberatelydown the eastern steps, and sauntered off where he was in plain sight ofall until he entered the wood which approached to within a few rods ofthe lake. He had given no one a hint of the scheme he had in mind, butthe feeling was general that whatever its nature it was original, andmore than one-half suspected he might outwit the remarkable dog. In thislist we must not include George Burton.
Now Hoke had learned that it was useless to try to throw Zip off thescent by any such artifices as young Rothstein had used. As the guestdeclared, the tracker had not bothered the dog to the slightest extent.It therefore would be folly for the second fugitive to repeat theexperiment. He had no thought of doing so.
Mention has been made in the preceding pages of a brook which ran nearthe home of Uncle Elk. After a devious course this emptied into GoslingLake at a point about halfway between the cabin and the bungalow. Hokerested his hopes upon this little stream.
"Burton barred the lake," chuckled the youth, "but he didn't sayanything of this stream, though I was awfully afraid he would. I guesshe doesn't know about it,--yes, he does, too, for he had to cross it onhis way to the bungalow, but he forgot it. He can't kick when he finds Ihave made his dog sing small."
Allured by the single purpose, Hoke pushed straight on, turning neitherto the right nor left. Recalling that he had shortened the time Zip wasto wait, he broke into a lope. His build made him the fleetest runner incamp, and it did not take him long to reach the stream. He had crossedit so many times that the lower portion was familiar, and he turned asif to follow it to its source in the spring near Uncle Elk's cabin.
He found it of varying width. It was so narrow where a regular path hadbeen made by the passing back and forth of the hermit and his friends,that nothing in the nature of a bridge was used. A long step or amoderate jump served.
Nowhere did the depth seem to be more than a few inches, except where apool or eddy occasionally appeared; but as Hoke Butler picked his wayalong the bank, he was pleased to note here and there a considerableexpansion.
"That's good!" he said to himself; "it will make it all the harder forthat dog."
He now put his scheme into operation. Without removing his shoes, hestepped into the brook, sinking halfway to his knees, and began walkingup the bed of the stream. The water was as cold as ice, and he gasped atfirst, but became quickly accustomed to it. The bottom was so irregularthat he progressed slowly, and more than once narrowly escaped falling.Here and there boulders protruded from the shore and he steadied himselfby resting a hand upon them as he labored past. Those that rose from thebed of the stream itself and around which the current foamed, affordedconvenient stepping stones and were turned to such use.
"Of course that wouldn't do on land," he reflected, "for the dog wouldcatch the scent, but he can't know I'm in the water, and will be huntingelsewhere for my trail. He'll be the most beautifully fooled dog inMaine."