Bart Keene's Hunting Days: or, The Darewell Chums in a Winter Camp

CHAPTER XXV
NED’S RABBIT TRAP

Bart was using a new kind of powder, and there was no need to wait for the cloud of smoke to clear away to see the result of his shot. He beheld, an instant after the report of his rifle, the big buck swaying unsteadily. The lad was about to fire again, but there was no need, for the animal slowly sank to the snow-covered earth, and fell with a thud.

“Jump back, Stumpy! Jump back!” yelled Bart, fearing that the heavy animal would crash on top of Fenn. But, though the stout lad was incapable of leaping back, he managed to push himself out of danger, from the hold he had on the horns. Then he rolled over the snow, now red from the blood of the buck.

Bart rushed up, with rifle ready for another shot, but there was no need. His one bullet had struck a vital spot, and the big animal was breathing his last. Then Bart turned his attention to his chum.

Fenn was lying curiously white and still upon the snow, and, as Bart looked, he saw a stream of blood coming from under where the lad was stretched out.

“Fenn! Stumpy! Are you hurt?” he cried, laying down his gun, and endeavoring to raise Fenn’s head. As he did so he saw that the lad’s wound was in his arm, where the sharp prongs of the deer had cut a gash. It was bleeding freely, and Bart knew this must be stopped.

Not in vain had he listened to his sister’s almost constant talks about first aid to the injured. Bart recollected some of Alice’s instructions, and, a moment later he was binding up the cut with some bandages which he had stuck in his pocket with the idea of using to clean his gun, but which now served a more useful purpose.

Bart was glad to see that, as he wound the linen rags around Fenn’s arm, the flow of blood ceased. Then, rubbing the unconscious lad’s face with snow, Bart noted a wave of returning color, and, a moment later, Fenn opened his eyes.

“Is anybody hurt?” he asked, slowly.

“You’re the only one – except the buck,” answered Bart, with a sigh of relief, “and you’re not so badly off, I guess, that is, unless you’re wounded some other place besides the arm.”

“No, I think that’s all. But what happened to the buck?” and Fenn looked around.

“There he is,” replied Bart, pointing to the dead animal. “You certainly had nerve to tackle him by the horns, Stumpy.”

“No, I didn’t,” was the simple answer. “It was all I could do. It was either that or let him gouge me, and I didn’t want to do that. Did you shoot him?”

“Yes, and it was close work, too, for your head was almost in the way.”

“But you did it!” exclaimed Fenn, enthusiastically. “You saved my life, Bart, and – ” but Fenn could say no more. The nervous shock was too much for him, and he put out his hand and silently clasped that of his friend.

“Oh, it was easy once I made up my mind to fire,” went on Bart. “I drew a bead on him, and I thought of the game laws, but I knew I was justified.”

“It was a corking good shot,” exclaimed Fenn, admiringly. “You’re a wonder with the rifle, Bart.”

“Oh, not so much, I guess. But how about you? Can you walk?”

“Yes, I’m all right. I got scared there for a while, especially when that brute got his leg down inside my belt. I thought it was all up with me.”

“So did I. You shouldn’t have fired at him.”

“I know it, but I let her go before I thought. I’m done with hunting for a while.”

“Nonsense, you’ll be at it again in a few days. But, if you can walk, let’s get back to camp, and get the other fellows. Then we’ll come after our meat. We’ll have enough venison for a month.”

Fenn was rapidly recovering from the effects of his encounter with the buck, though he was still a trifle shaky. He managed to march along, however, and it was found that the cut on his arm was his only injury, except for some bruises and a severe shaking up.

The boys managed to get the buck on some tree branches, after Fenn and Bart had returned to camp, where they found Ned and Frank waiting for them, and they dragged the carcass over the snow to the tents. There it was cut up, and hung in trees, out of the way of foxes, or other prowling beasts.

With enough food in camp for the rest of their stay, the four chums now took things a little easier, only going out for occasional game birds. Fenn’s injury seemed to be healing from the effects of the medical salve put on from the box Alice had provided.

It was one afternoon, three days later, that Ned was observed to be busy with an empty box, some big rubber bands, and string.

“What are you up to now?” asked Frank.

“You’ll see,” was the answer. “I don’t know whether it will work or not, so I’m not going to say what it is.” A little later Ned started off through the woods, carrying his contrivance.

His chums were busy about camp, cleaning their guns, bringing in wood or water, and “slicking up” generally, and so paid little attention to Ned. It wasn’t until half an hour afterward that, hearing startled cries in the woods, from the direction of a little clearing where rabbits were numerous, that Bart exclaimed:

“Something’s happened to Ned! Hurry up!”

They ran to the place, and saw a curious sight. Ned was lying on the snow-covered ground, his hands stretched toward a sapling while his feet seemed encased in the box at which he had been working a short time previous.

“What’s the matter?” panted Bart.

“Get me loose first, and I’ll tell you,” cried Ned.

“Are you fast?” asked Frank.

“Fast? Of course I am! Can’t you see for yourself. I’m caught by my hands and feet in some rabbit traps I was setting.”

“Serves you right,” commented Bart, trying not to laugh. “You ought to be a sportsman, and shoot your game.”

“I didn’t want to shoot ’em,” explained Ned. “I wanted to catch ’em alive and tame ’em. Hurry up and get me out; will you, fellows?”

They soon released him. His feet were caught under a box, which was weighted down with rocks, while his hands were held in a slip-noose of heavy cord that was fast to the tree, which had been bent over to act as a spring. Ned was stretched out like a prisoner “pegged-out” in the army. He was soon released, and explained that as he was setting the noose trap, his feet had unexpectedly gotten under the box trap, which was sprung, and then the noose slipped, holding him fast at both ends.

CHAPTER XXVI
A VISIT TO TOWN

“Well,” remarked Bart, as they walked back to camp with Ned, “there’s no use setting any traps now, Ned. The rabbits were watching you, and they saw just how they worked, so you couldn’t catch the simplest bunny in these woods.”

“I’ll make another kind of trap,” declared Ned. “I want a rabbit to keep Fenn’s turtle company.”

“Don’t bother about it,” said Fenn, dryly.

“Why not?”

“Because my turtle got away in the night. He went back to the boiling spring, to join the others for a New Year’s celebration, I guess.”

“That’s so, to-morrow is the last day of this year,” observed Frank. “We ought to celebrate it in some way.”

“We will,” said Bart. “We’ll sit up, and watch the old year out and the new one in, and fire our guns off at twelve o’clock. But what’s the matter, Stumpy?” for Fenn was holding the arm injured by the buck, and on his face was an expression of pain.

“It’s been hurting considerable since morning,” explained the stout youth.

“Let me look at it,” demanded Bart, and, when the bandages were taken off, there was disclosed a red and angry sore. The arm was much inflamed.

“I was afraid of this,” said Bart. “We’ve got to go to town and let a doctor look at this. You may get blood poisoning, Stumpy.”

“Oh, I guess not. Can’t you put some of the stuff on from the box Alice gave us?”

“I’m afraid to take any chances. Besides, I don’t think there is anything strong enough for blood poison in the box. No, fellows, we’ll go to Cannistota. It’s only ten miles. We can easily walk there and back in a day, and, if the doctor thinks it better for Stumpy to stay in town over night, so he can treat him, why we can arrange for that, too. We’ll start in the morning, early.”

“Then we’ll see some of the celebration,” put in Frank.

“What celebration?”

“Why the New Year’s doings that William Perry said were always held in Cannistota. Don’t you remember?”

“Sure, that’s right,” agreed Bart. “It will do us good to make the trip. Game is getting rather scarce around here now, and we must begin to think of getting back. We certainly have had a swell time, and I don’t want anything to happen to Fenn’s arm.

“So get ready, fellows, and we’ll make a trip to town, and see what civilization looks like. It seems as if we’d been away six months, instead of three weeks.”

“Shall we take our guns?” asked Frank.

“Might as well. No telling what game we’ll see on our way back, and going in. We’ll fix up the camp so if we have to stay away over night it will be all right, though I don’t imagine any one will bother it.”

“Unless it’s that mysterious man,” said Ned, significantly. “He may come snooping around.”

“Well, if he does we can’t help it,” replied Bart, “only I’d like to catch him.”

“And I’d like to get back Mrs. Long’s diamond bracelet!” exclaimed Frank, with a flash of his dark eyes. “It’s not pleasant to be considered a thief!”

“Nobody really believes we took it,” declared Fenn.

“Well, don’t let’s talk about it,” declared Bart. “We will try to have a good time in town – that is, if Fenn’s arm doesn’t get any worse.”

“Oh, I don’t believe it will,” answered the injured lad, pluckily. But the sore was very painful.

Preparations for leaving camp were soon under way. The chums had an early breakfast the next morning – their last breakfast of the year, as Ned laughingly remarked – and then, with Fenn’s arm well wrapped up, so he would not take cold in it, and each of the other lads carrying a gun, they started off for the town of Cannistota.

The weather was pleasant, though a bit cold, and the sun was shining brightly on the snow which still covered the ground. The going at first was heavy, for it was through the woods, over a trail hard to discern, but when they struck the lumber road, leading into Cannistota, the traveling was easier.

They saw no game, save some rabbits, and a few squirrels, but they would not shoot at these. They could not make very good time, and it was nearly noon when they came in sight of the town, which lay in a valley, surrounded on all sides by hills.

“Now for the doctor,” decided Bart, “and then we’ll see what’s going on.”

“And get dinner,” added Ned, who was fond of his meals.

“Sure,” added Frank, who was no less a good handler of knife and fork.

As the lads entered the main street of the town they were struck by the festive appearances on every side. Stores and houses were draped with flags and bunting, while from several electric-light poles men were stringing long wires, with small incandescent bulbs of various colors fastened on at intervals. This was in the centre of the place, where the two main streets crossed, and, on inquiring, the lads learned that it was planned to hold a sort of procession, with the Old Year, typified by Father Time, going out, while the New Year came in. This formality would occur in the centre of the town, under a canopy of colored electric lights. In addition there were to be bands of music, songs, and other numbers on a festive program.

“Say, we ought to stay and take this in,” suggested Ned, as he saw the carnival spirit manifested on every side.

“Maybe we will,” assented Bart, “after we hear what the doctor says about Fenn’s arm.”

The medical man looked grave when he saw the injury caused by the buck’s horn.

“There is nothing to be unduly alarmed about,” he said, “but it is well that you came in time. It needs attention, and while fresh cool air, such as you get in camp, is good, I shall have to treat the wound with antiseptics. You must remain in town at least three days.”

The boys were a little dismayed to hear this, but as they had made tentative plans to be away from camp if necessary, it did not altogether upset their calculations. The doctor gave Fenn some medicine, dressed the sore, and recommended the lads to a quiet hotel, to stay while the wound was being looked after.

“You’ll enjoy your visit to Cannistota,” the doctor said with a smile, “for we always have a good time here on New Years. There is plenty of excitement.”

The boys were soon to find that this was true in an unusual sense, for they took part in a most exciting scene.

“Well,” remarked Fenn, as they came away from the office of the medical man, “it might be worse. What’ll we do now?”

“Let’s eat,” suggested Ned, and they all fell in with this proposal.

CHAPTER XXVII
THE MAN WITH THE TURTLE

The chums took their meal at one of the two hotels in Cannistota, and, liking the appearance of the place, which the doctor had recommended, they made arrangements to stay there for a few days, during which time Fenn’s arm was to receive treatment. They had adjoining rooms, and, once they had visited them, and left the few belongings they had brought from camp, they were ready to go out into the street again, and watch the preparations being made to celebrate the advent of the New Year that night.

“I know one thing we’d better do,” remarked Frank, as they strolled along.

“What’s that?” inquired Bart.

“Send telegrams to the folks at home, telling them where we are, and wishing them good luck for the New Year.”

“Good!” exclaimed Fenn, “but don’t say anything about my sore arm. My folks might worry.”

This was agreed to, and then each lad wrote his own telegram, explaining briefly why he was not in the woods, the carnival forming a good reason for the change.

“This will be a good plan in case they have any word to send us,” remarked Ned. “A telegram will reach us at the hotel, but it never would at camp.”

Bart had taken his rifle with him when they left the hotel, and when his companions joked him about it, asking him if he expected to see a bear or a deer in the town, Bart replied:

“I want to take it to a gunmaker’s and get a screw set in a little deeper,” referring to one on the lock mechanism. “It works loose every once in a while, and now’s a good time to have it fixed, when I’m not likely to have a use for the rifle. I intend to do a lot of hunting when we get back to camp.”

As the chums strolled on, they saw, on every side, more evidences of the carnival spirit. On several side streets, as well as on the main ones, flags and bunting were in evidence, and colored electric lights were being strung. Linemen were high up on poles arranging extra wires, and others, below, were passing up the colored bulbs, or pliers, and other tools needed by their mates on the high poles. The boys watched this for some time, and then, at Bart’s suggestion, they strolled toward the centre of the village.

There a still busier scene was observed. There were a number of linemen on the tall poles, and, as the boys looked on, the current was turned into the hundreds of various-hued bulbs, to test them. It was early afternoon, and much yet remained to be done in order to get the decorations completed.

The lads found a gunsmith in his shop, not far from the intersection of the main streets, and he was soon at work on Bart’s rifle, talking as he worked. The boys told him of their experience in camp, and the necessity for their visit to town.

“Got scratched by a buck; eh?” remarked the old gunsmith as he gazed from under his bushy white eyebrows at the lads. “That happened to me once. Their horns seem to sort of poison a wound. I guess it’s because the critters rub their antlers up against all sorts of trees and bushes. They get poisonous juices on ’em.”

Soon the lads were again strolling along the street. The afternoon was passing, and presently the town, which was now thronged with visitors, would be in the full sway of the carnival.

Fenn was walking ahead of his chums, looking in the store windows, and taking care that he did not collide with persons in the crowd, and so injure his sore arm. The stout youth saw, just ahead of him, an establishment devoted to the sale of pets of various kinds. There were pigeons, white rats, puppies, gold fish, some monkeys and parrots, and scores of canary birds. As several specimens were on exhibition in the windows quite a crowd was gathered about watching the antics of a pair of monkeys. Fenn, always interested in such things, drew closer, motioning to his chums, who were walking slowly, to join him.

As he turned back toward the store he saw a man entering – a man, at the sight of whom, the stout lad started, and looked at him again, more sharply.

“I wonder if it can be – yes, it’s the same man – the mysterious man we’ve been after so long!” murmured Fenn. “He’s going in that store! I hope he didn’t see me.” He got behind a couple of men who were close to the window, and watched until he had seen the person he had observed close the door, after entering the store. Then Fenn turned to address his chums who were now at his side.

“What’s the matter?” asked Bart, laughing. “You look as if you had seen a ghost, Stumpy.”

“I’ve seen something more substantial than a ghost,” replied the lad, “I’ve seen the man who stole the diamond bracelet, fellows!”

“Where?” gasped Ned and Frank.

“Hush! Not so loud,” cautioned Fenn, for several persons were curiously observing the four lads. “He’s in that store,” went on the stout youth.

They could hardly believe him, but Fenn soon told them the circumstances, and repeated his belief in the positiveness of his identification. “I’m sure it was the same man,” he said.

“Well, we’ll soon see,” declared Bart. “He’ll have to come out, some time or other, and then we can tell. We’ll just wait here a while.”

A little later they were all startled to see the man, about whom there seemed to be such a mystery, come hurriedly from the store.

“There he is!” exclaimed Fenn.

“It’s him, all right,” assented Bart, in low tones. “Now what shall we do; follow him?”

The man turned south on the main street, and began walking rapidly away. At that instant Fenn caught sight of a package in his hand. It was a paper bundle, but, as the stout lad looked, he saw projecting from it the long, snake-like neck of a mud turtle.

“He’s got a turtle!” cried Fenn, excitedly. “Let’s chase after him! We must solve this mystery now or never!”

CHAPTER XXVIII
THE PURSUIT

Fenn darted forward, and would have taken after the man on the run, only Bart put forth a restraining hand. Fenn looked at his chum in surprise.

“Easy, Stumpy,” murmured the tall lad, as he drew his fleshier companion out of hearing of the crowd in front of the animal store. “Do you want to give the whole thing away? Several times we’ve lost trace of this man because we were in such a rush, and I don’t want it to happen again. You nearly spoiled everything, Stumpy.”

“I’m sorry,” faltered Fenn, “but I want to get at him, and have him explain.”

“So do we all,” went on Bart, “but we can do it better by going slow and easy. He hasn’t seen us, and we can trail him and see where he goes.”

“Did you notice what he had in the paper?” asked the fat lad excitedly.

“What was it?” asked Frank, who had not caught Fenn’s first exclamation.

“A mud turtle. That’s what he got in the store.”

“Say, you had better talk lower,” cautioned Frank, for Fenn had spoken loudly. “People in the crowd are beginning to notice us.”

“Oh, I guess there’s no danger,” decided Bart. “There are lots of strangers in town to-day, and we won’t attract much attention. But we must take after this fellow. We’ll trail him carefully now. He’s still on this side of the street, and he’s going slowly,” Bart announced, after taking an observation over the heads of the crowd still in front of the store window. “Fenn and I will take this side of the street, and you and Ned can take the other side, Frank. If either of us miss our man we’ll meet later at the hotel. Go ahead now, and keep out of his sight. Go slow, as if you were only looking at the sights, but keep your eye on the man. We’ll try and find where he belongs, who he is, and why he collects turtles.”

Through the crowds that were constantly increasing in size the four lads threaded their ways, two on one side of the street, and two on the other. Ahead of them was the mysterious man. He seemed to have no idea that he was being followed, and appeared only to be looking at the sights. At times the boys found difficulty in keeping within the proper distance of him, and once Ned and Frank lost him, but they soon picked him up again, and kept on. He wore a light-colored cap, which made him conspicuous in the press of people.

The man seemed to be in no hurry to get anywhere. He strolled leisurely along, looking in store windows, or pausing to observe the linemen stringing the wires. The boys were after him, and their experience in the woods, trailing game, now served them in good stead. Though they looked carefully, they could not see any package in the man’s hand now, and they wondered what he had done with the turtle.

The pursuit led to the outskirts of the town, and, as the streets became less congested there was danger of the boys being detected in their chase, but fortunately for them the man took a notion to swing down through a side street and retrace his steps, back toward the centre. Then the pursuit was rendered less likely to be observed.

Reaching the middle of the town the man paused to look at a lineman who was on top of a particularly tall pole, making some final adjustments to the wires and lamps. As the boys halted, not to come too close to their quarry, they saw the lineman signal to have the current turned on. The lamps glowed, but something seemed to be wrong, for he called for the power to be turned off while he adjusted a switch. There seemed to be some delay over cutting off the current, and the lineman waited.

The crowd was thicker near the pole, and, not wishing to let the mysterious man escape, Bart and Fenn, who were on the same side of the street as he was, drew nearer to him in the throng. Frank and Ned were on the other side of the street. The former chums could observe the object of their pursuit more closely now. He did not seem to be a hardened character, but on the contrary, his face was refined, and his manner seemed gentle, though there was a curious, cunning air about him.

While the lineman on the tall pole was waiting for some of his fellow workmen to change the switch, he looked down into the press of people. He seemed to recognize some one, and waved his hand. To the surprise of Bart and Fenn the mysterious man waved back to the man on the pole.

“Did you see that?” exclaimed Fenn, and in his excitement he had spoken aloud. The next instant he regretted it, for the man, turning, saw him. He gave a start of surprise, and then a look of fear seemed to come over his face. He gave one glance up at the lineman on his tall perch, waved what seemed to be a farewell, and darted away through the crowd.

“After him, Stumpy!” whispered Bart, excitedly. “He’ll get away, I’m afraid!”

The lads started to make their way out of the throng of people who were all about them. The mysterious man, too, was at this same disadvantage.

Suddenly, amid the stillness that seemed to settle over the crowd, as they watched the lineman reach far over to make a distant connection, there sounded a cry of fear and pain. High up in the air there was a flash of bluish fire, a sizzling, as of red-hot iron plunged into water, and then a shower of sparks.

“The lineman! The lineman!” screamed several. “He’s on a live wire!”

Pausing in their efforts to get out of the crowd, and take up the pursuit, Bart and Fenn saw the lineman leaning over in a dangerous position. He was in a net-work of wires, and all about him seemed to be long, forked tongues of blue flame, while vicious sparks shot from one wire to the other. The unfortunate man had caught hold of the outer end of a cross-arm on the pole, and, while his feet were on one lower down, he was thus held in this strained position. Around his waist was a leather belt, passed about the pole, and this also retained him in position.

His cry of alarm had brought several other linemen to the foot of the pole.

“Are you shocked, George?” called one, anxiously.

“No,” came the faint reply, “not yet, but something has gone wrong. One of the wires has broken, and has charged all the others. I’m safe as long as I lean over this way, but I can’t get back, and I can’t get down.”

“Unhook your belt and slide down,” suggested one.

“I can’t. If I let go with my hands I’ll come up against the wires carrying the main current, and, if I do – ” he did not finish, but they all knew what he meant.

The crowd was horror-struck. The man was in the midst of death. He could not move to come down, for fear of coming in contact with wires, which, though previously harmless, were now dangerous because the broken conductor, carrying a heavy charge, had fallen over them, making them deadly.

“Hold on, and I’ll come up to you!” shouted a lineman, preparing to ascend the pole.

“No, don’t,” cried the unfortunate man.

“Have the current cut off at the power house!” yelled a voice in the crowd below.

“Yes! That’s the thing to do!” echoed a score of others.

A man ran out of the crowd to the telephone – the same telephone over which word had been sent to the power station to turn the power on for the preliminary test. In a few seconds central had given the frantic man the main electrical station.

“Cut off the power – cut off the power!” he cried. “One of the linemen on the pole is in danger of being shocked to death.”

Anxiously he waited for the reply. None came.

“Ring again, central!” he called frantically. Over the wire he heard the distant ringing of the bell in the power station. The delay seemed like an hour, though it was only a few seconds.

“Why don’t they answer? Why don’t they answer?” cried the man desperately. “Ring ’em again, central. Ring hard!”

“I am ringing hard,” responded central. “There doesn’t seem to be any one there.”

“There must be!” insisted the man. “It’s a matter of life and death! The current must be shut off!”

He waited, moving about nervously, while holding the receiver to his ear. Those near him could not imagine what was the trouble. Then came a click in the receiver that showed that some one was at the other end of the wire.

“Hello! Hello!” cried the man who was trying to have the power cut off. “Why didn’t you answer before. Why don’t you shut off the current? There’s a man being killed – what’s that?”

He fairly yelled the last words, and those near him saw a look of horror spread over his face.

“What’s that?” he shouted. “The electrician has stepped out you say? What? He thought the power was to be left on? Oh! He’ll be back in five minutes? But that will be too late. Can’t you – hold on there – don’t go away – what’s that – yes, I hear you but – don’t go away – do something – pull out the switch – do something – never mind the electrician – you do it – don’t go away – don’t go away – Ah – it’s too late!”

He turned to those standing near him at the telephone.

“The only electrician now at the power station stepped out after turning on the current,” the man explained dully, as he hung up the receiver. “There was some mistake. He thought the wiring was finished, and that the power was to remain turned on. So he went out, and he left a green man in charge, who doesn’t know anything about the engines, or dynamos. This man said he’d run out and get the electrician. I tried to stop him – tried to make him understand that he, himself, must do something – must shut off the current – but I couldn’t get it through his head. He dropped the telephone, and ran out after the electrician. Now there’s no way of shutting off the power until the engineer gets back, and, by that time – ” He paused significantly, and rushed out. Nothing more could be done at the telephone. It was as if the wire was broken.

Up on his high perch the lineman was becoming weaker from the strain, and the fear of death. He looked down at the crowd below. Bart and Fenn gazed upward. How they wished they could help!

“Is that man – that mysterious man gone?” asked Bart, in low tones.

“Yes,” replied Fenn, “he’s hurrying down the street. We’d better take after him, if we want to catch him. He’s getting to be very suspicious of us. We ought to catch him.”

“I know it. If we could only signal Ned or Frank we might run some chance – ”

At that moment another lineman, standing near Bart, turned to him, and asked excitedly, as he saw the rifle in the lad’s hand:

“Are you a good shot? A man’s life may depend on it! Can you shoot straight?”

“Pretty straight,” answered Bart, wondering what was coming next. The lineman was excited, he approached nearer to Bart, and motioned to his friend high up on the pole – the man from whom death seemed but a short distance away.

“Is your rifle loaded? Then, if it is, for mercy sakes fire and see if you can sever that main feed wire,” and the lineman pointed to a thick conductor, which was shooting out blue sparks, and which had charged all the other wires with the deadly current. “See if you can cut that wire,” went on the lineman eagerly. “It’s the only chance to save his life!”

Bart hesitated. He turned to see the man whom they had pursued, making his escape. If he got away it might mean that they would never see him again – never have the theft of the diamond bracelet solved. It was a choice between the honor of the Darewell Chums and the life of a man. Which would Bart choose?

There could be but one answer to this question.