Boy Scouts on the Open Plains; Or, The Round-Up Not OrderedRalphson, G. Harvey (George Harvey)
General
Boy Scouts on the Open Plains; Or, The Round-Up Not Ordered
Ralphson, G. Harvey (George Harvey)
Boy Scouts of America -- Juvenile fiction; Ranches -- Juvenile fiction; West (U.S.) -- Juvenile fiction
This time luck did follow his effort. The packet managed to lodge
somewhere among the branches, for certainly it failed to fall back
again. And so Jimmy felt that having vindicated his reputation for
courage, it was now up to him to look out for himself.
So he commenced to climb. Jimmy had never been one of the best climbers
in the troop; for there were quite a number who could, as he would have
said, "cut circles all around" him in the tree-tops. But this was a
case where he was encouraged to exert himself to the utmost. There was
something worth while at stake, for should those famished creatures
ever reach him, he might expect them to make short work of their task.
Jimmy under other conditions would doubtless have climbed that tree
more gracefully, but he could certainly not have done it in less time
than on that present occasion. Speed was everything to him just then,
and he was willing to sacrifice agility, grace and make-believe
coolness to the one object of avoiding too close acquaintance with the
cruel fangs, which he knew must already be snapping and grinding in
anticipation of a feast.
Once he slipped and came very near falling back to the ground. He felt
a cold chill pass through his whole frame at the bare horror of the
thing; then his grip held its own, and he managed to give one more
desperate heave that landed him up in the first crotch.
Even there he was not safe. It was too near the ground, and one of
those agile jumpers might easily spring that high, with half an effort.
So Jimmy, without even waiting to catch a fresh breath, put the spurs
in and made another heave.
He had an indistinct view of some object flashing toward his tree, more
like a streak of light than a living creature. It must be that leading
wolf, crazy to be the first to seize upon the prey they had scented
from afar.
Jimmy might have shouted at the beast, in hopes of sending him back in
alarm; but, in the first place, he did not have much breath left with
which to engineer such a programme. Then again he was not given half a
show. Not that the wolf sprang up, and took hold of his shins, that
being the part of Jimmy's anatomy extending further down the tree than
any other. Oh! no, such a catastrophe did not happen at all, because
there was no chance that it could with such vigilant guardians near at
hand.
Ned had, meanwhile, sung out something to his other two chums. This was
in the nature of the "I've got it!" of the fielder, when a high fly
comes his way; for he wants to warn his neighbors in due time, so that
they may not interfere with his play and make a mess of it all.
When Jimmy heard the sharp report of that rifle so close at hand, his
heart felt glad within him; for he guessed who had pulled the trigger,
and his faith in Ned's marksmanship was very great.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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