Bart Keene's Hunting Days Part 8

"You just watch me," called Fenn, who was squirming about on a bed of leaves.

"Watch you--yes, with our eyes bandaged," said Ned, sarcastically.

"That's a hot one."

"Patience, n.o.ble knight," mocked the stout lad, "and I'll soon release ye."

"Stumpy is so fat that they didn't have rope enough to tie him,"

remarked Bart. "That's the reason he thinks he can get loose."

"I don't think it, I know it!" cried Fenn in triumph a few seconds afterward. "I've got both hands out, and now here comes off my bandage."

A moment later Fenn uttered a cry.

"What's the matter?" asked Bart, making an unsuccessful attempt to get rid of the ropes binding his arms and legs.

"Why we're in Oak Swamp, or, right on the edge of it," replied Fenn.

"They brought us farther than I thought they did. But we'll fool 'em all right. We'll get loose, skip out, and when they come back they won't find us. Wait until I get these ropes off my legs, and I'll help you fellows."

Fenn was as good as his word. A few seconds later he was free from his bonds, and, in turn, he released Bart, Frank and Ned. They all looked around in some surprise, for they had no idea that they had been brought so far from home. The wagon had traveled faster than they had suspected.

"Oak Swamp," mused Bart. "It's a good thing it's coming on winter instead of summer, or we'd be eaten up with mosquitoes. Well, let's get out of here. I don't like the place."

Indeed it was gloomy and dismal enough at any time, but now, on a late fall evening, with darkness fast approaching, it was anything but an inviting place. The swamp derived its name from a number of scrub oak trees that grew in it. During the summer it was a treacherous place to visit, for there were deep muck holes scattered through it, and more than one cow, and several horses, had broken out of the pastures, and wandered into the wet place, only to sink down to their deaths. It was said that several years before a man had endeavored to cross the swamp, had been caught in a bog hole, and sucked down into its depths, his body never having been recovered.

So it was with a feeling of no little satisfaction that Bart and his chums found themselves able to leave the gloomy place sooner than they had expected.

"It'll be a good joke on the others," remarked Ned, as he gathered into a heap, the rope fetters that had bound him. "We'll sneak away, and when those fellows come back for us they'll think we've rolled into the swamp, and sunk, and they may make a search for us. Let's hide the cords and bandages."

"Sure," agreed Frank. "We'll turn the tables on them."

"Well, whatever we do, let's get away from here," suggested Fenn. "It's too gloomy for my notion. Look, there's the ledge they lowered us from.

It isn't two feet high, but it seemed like a hundred," and he pointed to a small ledge of rock, where Sandy Merton and his mates had stood as they lowered from the wagon the lads who were being initiated. Had it not been that Sandy stood on the end of the vehicle, he would not have been high enough to bring about the delusion of the boys going down into some bottomless pit.

The four chums had gathered up the severed ropes, and, folding the bandages up in them, hid them all under a big stone. Then they started for home.

Oak Swamp was several miles from the town of Darewell, but there was a fairly good road between the places, since the swamp was but slightly off to one side of the main thoroughfare. As the four started off, with Fenn in the lead, they chuckled to think of the blank looks of the initiating team, when the members should return for the candidates, to find them missing.

"I almost wish we could stay, and hide, and hear what they'll say,"

observed Ned, laughing at the prospect.

"I don't. I want to get home," came from Frank. "Ugh! This is a gloomy place after dark."

Suddenly Fenn, who was some distance in the lead, jumped to one side.

"What's the matter; see a snake?" called Bart.

"A snake, this time of year? Not much, but it's a whopping big mud turtle," cried the fleshy lad. "I'm going to catch it, fellows. Maybe it's the one that got away from Professor Long's collection. That's the only way I can account for a turtle being out of doors at this season of the year."

"And while you're at it look and see if it hasn't got a diamond bracelet on its neck, and a wedding ring on its toes, Stumpy," advised Bart, mockingly. "If it has, it'll be all to the mustard, and we'll be cleared of suspicion. Look and see if it has its teeth filled with gold, while you're about it, but, above all, don't forget the diamond bracelet."

"Aw, let up, can't you?" begged Stumpy. "What's the use of poking fun at a fellow all the while, just because I made one break. Besides a turtle _might_ get its neck through the bracelet."

"Oh rats!" was Bart's reply. "But catch the turtle, if you're going to."

Fenn made a grab for the slow moving reptile, and caught it. He examined it carefully in the fast-fading light.

"Well, pick off the diamond bracelet; why don't you?" asked Bart, chuckling at his joke.

"Dry up!" advised Fenn, still looking at the turtle.

"Chuck it away, and come on," suggested Ned.

"Chuck it away? I will not!" retorted Fenn indignantly. "This is a rare kind of turtle, it must have been dug up out of its winter hole by some one. I'm going to keep it for my collection."

"What? Haven't you given that up by this time?" asked Bart. "I supposed that you'd be gathering specimens of snowflakes, or samples of dog biscuit by this time," for he knew Fenn's failing, and a month, at most, was the period devoted to any new fad. But this time Fenn seemed more in earnest.

"No, I'm going to keep this," went on the amateur collector. "It's a good one. I shouldn't be surprised but what Professor Long would be glad to get it for his collection," and Fenn gazed admiringly at the turtle.

"Here's another," announced Frank suddenly. "And there is a third one,"

and he pointed to two more of the reptiles crawling sluggishly along.

Fenn ran over and examined them, but he took care not to lose his first specimen.

"They're a common variety," he declared. "I don't want 'em for my collection, and Professor Long has several like them."

"And neither one wears a diamond bracelet--how sad," chimed in Bart, laughingly.

"That's all right--make fun if you want to," said Fenn, a bit sharply, "but it's no joke to be under the disgrace of the implied accusation that we stole the bracelet."

"I know it," agreed Bart soberly, "but looking for mud turtles that might possibly have it on their necks isn't going to help matters any.

We might much better look for the man who was in the school just before we were. If any one took it, he did--not some turtle."

"Oh, it's possible that a turtle did poke its head and neck through the bracelet when it was in the cabinet," said Ned, "but, of course, it's out of the question to think that we can find that turtle, or, for that matter, that the bracelet would remain on the turtle's neck."

"Guess you're right," admitted Stumpy. "Well, I've got a good turtle for my collection, anyhow."

"Isn't it funny so many of 'em are out to-day?" asked Ned, as the four walked on, Fenn carefully carrying his prize. "It's so near winter I should think they'd be going to sleep, like a bear, in a hollow log, if they do sleep in logs."

"Oh, they curl up and go to sleep in some warm place for the winter,"

declared Fenn, who considered himself a sort of authority on the reptiles. "But the reason so many are out to-day is because it has suddenly turned warmer. They'll soon be going into permanent winter quarters though. But come on, it's getting dark. Let's get a move on."

"I shouldn't wonder but what we'd have snow," observed Bart, casting a look at the clouds. "It's about time."

"I wish it would," said Ned, "or else that we'd have skating. But what about going camping, Bart? Have you thought any more about it?"

"Yes, and I think I can arrange so we can go. I feel just like going off in the woods with our guns."

"To hunt mud turtles with diamond bracelets," put in Frank, with a laugh.