The Outdoor Chums; Or, The First Tour of the Rod, Gun and Camera Club — John Shaqi
The Outdoor Chums; Or, The First Tour of the Rod, Gun and Camera ClubAllen, Quincy
General
The Outdoor Chums; Or, The First Tour of the Rod, Gun and Camera Club
Allen, Quincy
Camping -- Juvenile fiction
He kept shaking his head as if working himself up into a desperate frame
of mind. Evidently it would have gone hard with any one of Andy Lasher's
crowd if the offended boy could have laid hands on him just then.
"I wonder if Uncle Toby could give us any information on this subject?"
suggested Frank.
"Oh! call him in and see. Perhaps he even grabbed it up in his fright.
Shout to him, Frank, please," exclaimed Bluff, eagerly.
"Hello! Uncle Toby! Show up here; the coast is clear, and all
danger past!"
Placing his hands about his mouth, after the fashion of a megaphone,
Frank shouted these words several times.
"There he comes!" cried Will, pointing to a moving object.
"Has he got anything in his hands?" gasped Bluff, anxiously.
"Not that I can see," replied the other.
Bluff groaned and wrung his hands disconsolately.
"It's gone, boys! I'll never set eyes on that beauty again. Might as well
give up and go back to town," he said, gloomily, as if brokenhearted.
"Oh! shucks! Don't give up so easy, Bluff. Who knows but that we may find
a chance to recover the gun again, sooner or later. Live in hopes."
"It's easy for you to say that, Frank, when your gun is all safe and
sound. Why, what can I do now without anything to shoot game with?"
"Well, I wouldn't worry about that. This is Kamp Kill Kare, you know.
Trust us to find plenty for you to do. There'll be fish and game to
clean, and dishes to wash while Toby is busy at something else. Oh! you
can be useful all right, I give you my word, Bluff," said Frank, gaily.
The aggrieved boy gave him one indignant look. He did not seem in a humor
to trust himself to speech.
Meanwhile the aged darkey had entered the camp.
"Have you seen my repeating-gun, Toby?" demanded Bluff, striding
up to him.
"'Deed an' I hasn't seen any gun since I jumped into de bush to find dem
young raskils wot trowed dat stone at me. I war just a-wishin' I had a
gun along. Wouldn't I jest a peppered dem scalawags as dey run past me?"
replied the old fellow.
"Say, did you see them then?" demanded Frank.
"I shore did, Marse Frank."
"How many were there?" came the quick question.
"I war jest a-countin' ob dem jailbirds, an' had 'rived at 'leven w'en a
'streperous root she keeled me ober. W'en I gits up agin dey had gone.
Den I heard Marse Frank a-callin' me to come back," went on Toby, glibly.
The boys looked at each other and smiled. They knew that without doubt he
had been cowering close to the ground in mortal fear the whole time, for
Uncle Toby had little reputation for bravery.
"Did you see any of them have a gun?" asked Bluff, faintly.
"I done t'ink de whole bunch hab guns; least-way dat was my 'pression at
de time dat creeper done trip me up. It's lucky my haid is 'customed to
hard knocks, or it split open for sure."
"That settles it; my new gun is gone. Oh! it makes me so mad just
to think one of that crowd may be handling it," cried Bluff,
shaking his fist.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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