Chapter XIV: Mr. James Bodman Gives a Dance

"I'm as much in the dark as you can be, Ethan," Phil told him.

"It's mighty queer, I say; and I'd give something to know what it means," muttered the other scout, who evidently had more than his allotted share of curiosity.

Phil seemed to be debating as to whether it was enough of their business to pay them for taking any more trouble. The only thing that tempted him in that direction was the chance that some one might have been injured during all that shooting, and he would like to be useful in an emergency. All right-minded people who go into the woods feel that way toward others.

"Well, let's creep up and interview the cook!" he suggested.

At that Ethan grinned as though greatly pleased.

"Sure thing, Phil!" he whispered.

They immediately started to carry out this plan. Phil kept his gun in evidence, and Ethan followed suit. This was not to be taken so much in the nature of a threat as an inducement to awaken confidence in the terrified _chef_. If he saw that they were also hunters he might feel disposed to remain where he was, and satisfy their curiosity, at least to a reasonable extent.

After more or less of shifting of their line of advance to meet the various conditions that arose, they found themselves close in upon the bunch of trees. And apparently the man who was hiding must have caught some little sound just then, for on turning his head he saw them.

Phil guessed he must be a little Frenchman even before he heard him give utterance to a single word, just from his appearance, and the tiny black mustache he sported. He was dressed in white, and they might not have noticed him at all because of the snow, only that the trunks of the trees formed a darker background, against which his spotless apparel stood out plainly.

He looked greatly distressed at sight of the two boys. At first they thought he was figuring on running, but somehow the camp did not seem to offer him a safe asylum; and as for the woods he knew next to nothing about such a wilderness, since he had come from a city like New York.

So the _chef_ compromised, as many a sensible man before him has found it profitable to do when confronted with a choice of evils; he elevated both his hands as if to let them know he surrendered unconditionally.

"Come on!" said Phil, on seeing this sign; "we'll ask him a few questions anyway."

They quickly joined the man in white. He was surveying the boys with a look of bewilderment on his pallid face.

"You do not look so terrible as heem!" they heard him say, in what might be considered a conciliatory tone.

"Who are you?" asked Phil, getting down to business at once.

"Francois Lavelle," came the prompt answer, as the _chef_ drew himself up with a bit of perhaps unconscious pride.

"Are you Mr. Bodman's cook?" asked Ethan, curiously.

"I am ze French _chef_," he was instantly told, as though there might be a vast difference; "I haf serve him for five years; and he would not even come up to zis heathen country unless Francois he accompany heem to serve ze meals he adores."

"What has been going on over here? We heard all sorts of noises from our camp, as though there was murder being done; and so we've come across country to find out what it meant?"

When Phil said this the _chef_ shivered, and drew up his shoulders in a ridiculous fashion that Ethan afterwards used to recall with shouts of laughter, it seemed so comical.

"If zere haf not been murder done," he said, solemnly, "it haf been because pouf! I run so fast. _Begar!_ zat devil haf murder in hees eyes."

"Then the dog did go mad?" burst out Ethan wonderingly.

"Dog--mad?" stammered Francois, as though puzzled; "I do not understand. Eet is not ze dog zat go mad but zat terrible man who haf come to take my life!"

"Why should any one want to kill you?" asked Ethan; "did you forget to put seasoning in the soup; or was there too much cayenne pepper in the stew?"

"_Parbleau!_ m'sieu, eet was all about ze hot water!"

"Please continue, because you have interested us very much," urged Phil; "what happened with the scalding water?"

"I threw zat same all over ze strange dog zat come into ze camp. On my honor I hold up zis hand and swear I zink it a savage wolf; so on ze impulse of ze minute _pouf!_ and all over heem it goes!"

"Oh! now we are beginning to see a little light, Francois; when did this happen?" Phil continued, just as a lawyer cross-questioning a witness gradually succeeds in drawing out the entire story.

"Zis afternoon, m'sieu. Ze guides zey laugh, and say I am one hero; but zey also wink at each uzzer. I suspicion zey know who ze dog belong to, and believe zat I hear again from eet. _Sacre!_ I did!"

"You mean the owner of the scalded dog came to your camp, and demanded satisfaction?" Phil asked.

"Zat ees what happened. He was a terror I am assuring you. My flesh seemed to grow cold like ze ice, when I hear him roar zat he haf come to demand ze satisfaction for ze injury to hees dog."

"Who did he say this to, Francois?"

"Who but ze master, M. Bodman heemself. Ze first zing I notice was zat both the brave guides zey haf zere hands held up in ze air, as eef to show zat it was none of zere affair."

"Wise men, Francois, and it looks as if they knew this visitor. Did you hear his name mentioned?"

"Oui, m'sieu. Eet was when my employer say heem Mr. James Bodman, and zat he is a power un ze world of finance; when zis pig owner of ze dog tell how he ees ze Terrible Badger, and zat he runs zings up here in the woods as he pleases."

"Then it seems that Mr. Bodman met his match at last. He was pretty hot about the collar, wasn't he, Francois; I mean, of course, that he acted furious?" Ethan asked.

"It did not make any deeference to zat Terrible Badger. He see ze dog zat was worth five hundred dollars, and with one shot from hees gun he kills heem."

"Whew! he _must_ have been wild!" declared Ethan; "but we heard a lot of shooting and shouting, Francois; did the others of the party dare attack this man of the woods, and was there a regular battle?"

"I do not zink so, m'sieu. I myself am running evaire so fast just zen; but ze last look I take I have seen my employer dancing ze hop-step-and-jump while zat madman shoot close to hees toes."

Ethan could not keep a broad grin from appearing on his face at that.

"Then it must have been those two who were doing most of the shouting, the dancing man threatening all sorts of things that were to come; and the man with the gun telling him to try another step like the tango. You'd think, even if the guides washed their hands of the whole business, the other sportsmen might have taken a hand in the game, instead merely of looking on."

"Oh! zey did, I assure you, m'sieu! Zey dance just ze same as ze gentleman. Eet may be zat wild-man he tell zem zey must keep time wif ze music or ze bullets zey might not miss zere ankles."

"And so you were running off all this time, were you, Francois?" asked Phil, who no longer had any difficulty in understanding what it meant.

"What would you haf me do, m'sieu?" demanded the _chef_, indignantly; "I haf von wife and five charming children at home. Who support zem eef I allow myself to be sacrificed to ze passion of zat madman? I am of ze brave family over in France, but I am also not ze fool."

"And you managed to escape without him discovering you?" continued Phil.

"Aha! I slip in and out of ze trees. Heem so much taken up wif ze dance of ze gentlemen zat he nevaire see poor Francois. So I reach zis place and sink down to ze ground to recover my breath."

"But he went away finally, I suppose?" Phil questioned.

"After he haf exhaust ze gentlemen, and haf hees leetle joke."

"And no one lifted a hand to stay his departure, did they, Francois?"

"Ze guides would not, because zey haf to live up here in ze woods, and zey dare not make ze enemy of zat Terrible Badger. And ze three gentlemen could not walk over to ze cabin where zere guns were, zey were so exhausted."

"But that happened all of half an hour ago, didn't it, Francois?"

"I am not in ze condition to say, m'sieu. All I know is zat I haf not yet entirely recover from my knees knocking against each other; and as for my heart it keeps on jumping up into ze throat every time I hear a rustle close by. I zink zat man haf come back to get _me_, ze culprit, who is guilty of throwing ze boiling water on hees hound."

"But why haven't you gone back into the camp?" continued Ethan. "Surely it would be safer for you among those who have guns."

"Ah! m'sieu, it ees easy to talk, but you do not know how terrible zat wild man look. And if ze guides zey will not lift a hand to fight, what chance would poor Francois haf? I shall remain here in zis beautiful retreat till ze darkness come, and zen go back to make a new bargain with M. Bodman. Eef he promise to protect me I can again cook ze lofely meals; but eef he refuses me zat favor eet means zat Francois' skill ees lost. Everyzing I try I should make a failure of. Ze soup eet be spill, ze bread burned, and ze dishes he adores I forget how to make."

"Oh! the danger is likely all over with, Francois," Phil told the poor shivering _chef_. "This angry owner of the dogs has taken his revenge, and will fight shy of your camp after this. You can go back without running any great risk. But do you think any one was hurt by all that shooting?"

A negative shake of the head answered this question.

"But we only see one of the guides in the camp?" continued Phil.

"Ze gentlemen zey are in ze cabin resting after zere mad dance. Zey haf to keep eet up till zey nearly ready to drop before he say he haf enough. I am afraid zat M. Bodman he burst a blood vessel, he appear to be so red in hees face. Ze uzzer guide zey haf in zere doing somezings for zem."

Phil was completely satisfied by now.

"Nothing for us to do over here, it seems, Ethan," he suggested.

"I reckon not," replied the other.

"Our intentions were good, but fortunately there is no need of our services, as nobody was injured. So we might as well start back home, Ethan."

"Better take a picture of Francois here, with the camp for a background, Phil. Then you'll have something to show when you tell this story later on. And Francois wouldn't object, I should think?"

Phil seemed to think it would not be a bad idea.

"Those five tree trunks will make a good scene in themselves, with the snow, and the camp with its fire and smoke back of them. Francois, would you mind leaning out, and looking at me for just a few seconds?"

The _chef_ was apparently an obliging sort of fellow; either that or else he had just experienced such a fright that he did not care to antagonize any more of the people he ran across up in this wilderness. He did as Phil requested, and the picture was taken in that fashion.

After that the boys bade him good-by, and turned their backs on the scene of the recent happening. Both of them felt well repaid for their short trip. They had learned what the loud commotion in the rival camp had meant; and were carrying back some mighty interesting news for the others.

Ethan was chuckling all the way.

"I just can't help but laugh at what that French cook told us," he remarked, as though he felt it really necessary to explain his actions. "Just imagine your fiery, red-faced, stout millionaire dancing furiously, while the owner of the scalded dog fires an occasional shot, cowboy fashion, close to his toes to make him jig faster. And all the while they are both yelling, the one in crazy delight and the other as mad as they make 'em. Oh! I'll burst my sides laughing yet."

"Well, it must have been a comical sight," admitted Phil, smiling broadly himself, "at least to an outsider, though I suppose those three men think it's an outrage serious enough to cause war between Uncle Sam and Canada right away after they get back home and report it."

"If only you had been right where we found the cook, Phil, with your camera, and cracked off a few shots of that dance, they'd be the best ever."

"Yes, that would have been a fine thing, but of course it couldn't ever be," the other continued. "But how about the man who was the cause of all this row; we ought to be able to guess who he was, without much trouble."

"Francois said he called himself the Terrible Badger!"

"Allowing for Francois being badly frightened we can put our interpretation on that," said Phil. "Instead of Badger say Baylay, and you've got it straight."

"Whew! both that logger and Mr. McNab did say he was an awful case, didn't they? And seems like all men are alike to him. Little he cares whether it's an American millionaire railroad wrecker, or just a plain sportsman, Anson Baylay snaps his fingers and tells them to dance, and they do dance."

"He might choose to treat us the same way, so don't crow too loud, Ethan," warned the other.

"What! after we've done so much for his kid that has the impediment in his speech? I should think he'd have some kind of gratitude about him. But if this was Baylay somehow he didn't seem to mention anything about losing a child, that Francois heard?"

"It may be he hasn't been home for several days," explained Phil. "I understand he carried a line of traps somewhere up here; and possibly he is compelled to be away for days at a time. But he must have been on the way home when his dog got that scalding at the hands of the French cook, who thought it was a bold wolf invading the camp."

"Then if Baylay gets home this afternoon or evening he's likely to hear about his terrible loss. In that case we may expect to see him within the next twenty-four hours, wouldn't you think, Phil?"

"If he doesn't show up by to-morrow morning I plan to start out and try to find his cabin, so we can let them know we have the boy safe and sound. But here we are close on our camp, and everything seems to be serene there."