Allen Chapman - Bart Keene's Hunting Days - or, The Darewell Chums in a Winter Camp

“Go ahead, we’re ready,” replied Bart, irreverently.

“Let her flicker,” added Ned.

“’Tis well – blindfold them,” ordered Sandy, giving his red-spotted robe a shake.

“What, again?” asked Frank.

Sandy did not answer, but thick bandages were put over the eyes of the candidates. Then from sounds that took place in the barn they knew that a horse was being hitched up.

“We’re going to have a ride,” observed Fenn.

“Quiet, Stumpy,” cautioned Bart, in a whisper. “Keep still, and let’s see if we can catch on to what they’re doing.”

A little later their hands and feet were bound, and the candidates were put into a large wagon, and the drive began. It lasted for some time, and, try as they did, Bart and his chums could not imagine in which direction they were being taken. But, as they were familiar with the country for several miles in any point of the compass from Darewell, they were not worried.

“Halt!” Sandy finally ordered, and the creaking, jolting wagon came to a stop.

“Ye have one more chance, candidates,” went on the president, as he touched the foreheads of the four with something cold and clammy – a hand, from the feel of it, but it was only a rubber glove, filled with cracked ice. “One more chance ere ye dare the dangers of the bottomless pit,” went on Sandy. “Wilt withdraw?”

“Naw, let her go,” replied Fenn nonchalantly.

“’Tis well. The bottomless pit awaits ye,” threatened Sandy, and then, one at a time, the four were carefully lowered over the side of the wagon, down into some depths, as they supposed, but in reality only a short distance, so strangely are distances rendered when one is blindfolded.

“Ye are now in the pit, whence there is no escape,” went on Sandy, “but, if ye are true knights, and no craven cowards ye will come to no harm. In one hour’s time we shall release ye. Bide here until we return.”

His voice sounded faint and far away, but it was only because he was speaking into a pasteboard box he had brought along for that purpose. Then the sound of the wagon departing was heard, and the four chums were left, sitting they knew not where, with their hands and feet tied, and their eyes bandaged.

“Well,” remarked Fenn, after a somewhat long pause, “I don’t know how you fellows feel about it, but I think they’ve rather put it all over us; eh Bart?”

“Somewhat,” admitted the leader of the Darewell Chums. “But it isn’t so bad as I expected. I wonder where we are, anyhow?”

“Might be ten miles away,” observed Frank.

“I’ll wager we’re not more than half a mile from home,” came from Ned. “They drove roundabout to fool us.”

“That’s what I think,” remarked Bart. “Anyhow we’ve got to stay here an hour, and I don’t much fancy it, either. But since we’ve gone this far we might as well go the whole distance, I suppose. It’s a good thing it’s comparatively warm, or it wouldn’t be any fun staying here. Where are we, anyhow.”

“I’m going to find out!” declared Fenn suddenly.

“How, Stumpy?” asked Frank.

“I’ve almost got one hand loose. I’ll soon have it out, and then I’m going to take off this bandage. There’s no use of us staying here like a lot of chickens tied up, when we can just as well get away.”

“That’s the trouble – we can’t get away,” came from Frank. “I’ve been trying for the last ten minutes to loosen these cords, but I can’t slip a single knot. They knew how to tie ’em all right.”

“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, noble 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.

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