"Say, just look up there, fellows!"
Chatz pointed a quivering finger upward as he gave utterance to these words.
Of course both Elmer and the lengthy scout followed his directions, and turned an inquiring gaze toward the dimly seen rafters of the old deserted mill.
"Gee whittaker! what in the dickens are they?" exclaimed Lil Artha, as his startled eyes rested on what seemed to be countless numbers of queer little bunches of dusky gray or brown hair.
They looked for all the world like some farmer's wife's winter collection of herbs, tied up in small packages, and fastened in regular order along the different beams.
"Well, I declare," laughed Elmer.
"You know what they are, Elmer; let us in on it, won't you?" demanded Chatz.
"Nothing whatever to do with the ghost, but all the same often found in haunted houses, church belfries, and old towers. See here."
He stooped and picked up quite a good-sized stone that happened to be lying on the floor.
Elmer was a pitcher on the Hickory Ridge baseball nine, and could hurl a pretty swift ball.
When he shot that stone upward it went like a young cyclone, struck the rafters with a loud bang, clattered around from one beam to another, and finally fell back to the floor with a thud.
This latter sound was certainly not heard by any one of the three scouts, for it was utterly drowned in a tremendous rush as of sturdy wings, and several openings above were filled with some rapidly flying objects.
"Wow, did you ever see the like of that now!" cried Lil Artha.
"What were they, Elmer?" asked Chatz, who had really been too startled to think fairly.
"Bats!" replied the scout leader, promptly.
"I supposed as much," declared Chatz, "and as you remarked just now, they always seem to like a building said to be haunted."
"Well," remarked the tall boy, "sometimes I've had the fellows hint to me that I had bats inmybelfry; but sure not that many. Why, I reckon there must have been well-nigh a thousand in that gay bunch, Elmer."
"I guess there were, more or less," replied the other.
"And now what?" asked Chatz.
"Let's look further here before we go into the house itself," the scout master made reply.
So they went from one end of the deserted mill to the other, peering into every place where it seemed there might be the slightest hope of discovering their missing comrade.
Elmer even entered a small room off the main floor, andwhich had possibly been used as an office when the grist-mill was in business.
"Nothing doing, Elmer?" announced Lil Artha, as the other came out again.
Elmer shook his head in the negative.
"Don't seem to be around here at all," he said.
"Well, let's try the house," suggested Chatz; and it was easily seen from his manner that he was eager to make the change.
After one more careful glance around, as if to make absolutely positive that nothing had been neglected, the scout leader nodded his head.
"Come on, then, fellows," he said.
So the others once more fell in his wake, like true scouts who knew their little lesson full well, and were ready to follow their leader wherever he might choose to go.
Elmer had previously noticed a door leading, as he believed, from the main mill into the cottage that had once been the miller's home.
Toward this he now pushed. He wondered if he would find the door fastened in any way. One touch told him it was not.
And so, without hesitation, Elmer strode across the threshold into what had once been the happy home of a contented miller, until trouble came, and tragedy ended it all.
Like the mill itself the house was fast falling into a state of decay.
It was only a cottage of some four rooms, all on the one floor. The boys passed from one apartment to anotheruntil presently they had been over all the territory comprised within those four walls, so far as they could see.
Both Chatz and Lil Artha uttered exclamations that breathed their disappointment.
Because each of them had failed to discover that upon which he had set his mind he failed to see anything else.
Not so Elmer, who carried out the principle which he was forever holding up before the others as a cardinal virtue which should govern a true scout always.
He noted a number of things that the other two might have passed by, simply because they refused to let their minds work outside of a certain groove.
A frown came upon Elmer's face also, as though he did not wholly like the looks of things.
"Well, he ain't here, that's sure," remarked Lil Artha, shrugging his shoulders in disgust.
"He certainly isn't," muttered Chatz, who, however, was thinking of an entirely different object than the one the tall boy referred to.
"Suppose we give him a shout, and see if there's any result?" suggested Lil Artha.
"Do so, if you like," replied Elmer, in a tone that did not seem to promise much faith in the outcome of this plan.
So the tall boy raised his voice and shouted in his loudest key. A few stray bats that had taken up lodgings in various dark corners of the four rooms went flapping through a broken sash. But beyond that nothing came to pass.
"This sure beats the Dutch," remarked Lil Artha, using his bandana again to wipe off the perspiration that had gathered in beads upon his forehead.
Elmer was looking around again.
"Wonder if there can be a cellar under here?" he remarked, presently.
"I should say yes," replied the tall boy.
"Then there ought to be a trapdoor in the floor somewhere about. Look around and see if you can find it, boys," Elmer continued, himself stepping into the kitchen.
Chatz and the tall boy had hardly gotten well started in their search than they heard Elmer calling.
"He's found it, sure!" observed the Southern lad.
"The luckiest chap ever, take that from me," declared Lil Artha, and then adding hastily: "but then, he always deserves his luck, because he works for it."
Although he did not exactly mean to do so, the one who said that expressed one of the greatest truths known. Deserve good luck, and it will many times knock at your door. Do things worth while, and obtain pleasing results.
Of course they hastened into the kitchen. Here they found Elmer bending over and examining the floor.
"It's a trapdoor, all right," declared Lil Artha, as he noted the dimensions of the cracks that formed an almost perfect square.
"But how to get it up's the question," said Elmer; "for there seems to be no ring in sight. All the same, boys, I reckon this same trap has been used more than a few times lately, from the looks of things."
"Whew! do you really mean it, Elmer?" remarked Chatz, deeply interested.
"Why, you can see for yourself right here that somesort of tool has been used to pry up the thing," Elmer went on.
"Say, I had a glimpse of an old broken kitchen knife lying over there by the sink. Wonder if that would do the trick? Shall I get it?" remarked Lil Artha.
"If you will," replied Elmer.
The article in question was speedily placed in the hands of the scout master.
"Just the very thing to lift this trap with," he declared, as he started to insert the stout remnant of the blade in the crack.
"Reckon it's been used to do the trick many a time," advanced Chatz.
"I wouldn't wonder," Elmer added.
Using the broken blade as a lever he soon pried the trap up far enough to allow the others a chance to insert their ready fingers. After that it was easily completed, and the square of wooden flooring removed.
"Dark as Egypt," remarked Lil Artha, as he tried to pierce the gloom with his gaze.
Elmer made a move, and Chatz, thinking he intended descending the ladder that led down into the unknown depths, caught his arm.
"I wouldn't do it, Elmer," he said.
"Do what?" asked the other.
"Go down there," continued Chatz. "No telling how deep it may be or what lies there, either. If anybody must go, send me."
"Well," laughed Elmer, "I like your nerve, Chatz. You think something might hurtme, but you don't careso much for yourself. That's like you Southern fellows, though. But make your mind easy, my boy, because just at present I don't think any of us need drop into this hole."
"I'm glad of that," declared the other; "but when you made a move I thought you were going."
"Oh, I only meant to get out my newspaper again, and make another little candle," said Elmer, with a chuckle.
"Well, say what you will, boys," remarked Lil Artha, who had been thrusting his head below the level of the floor and sniffing at a great rate; "I'm glad, too, that we don't just have to drop down this ladder. It's cold and damp down there, and I tell you I don't like the smell."
"There is a queer odor comes up, now that you mention it," admitted Elmer.
At that the eyes of Chatz grew round with wonder and suspense.
"Oh, I hope you don't think—" he began, when Elmer interrupted him.
"Kind of fishy smell, don't you think?" he said.
"Well, since you speak of it I rather guess it is something like that," Lil Artha admitted.
Then Chatz breathed easy again.
"But how could fish ever get in here from the mill pond?" he demanded.
"Give it up; I pass. Ask me something easy," the tall scout hastened to say.
Meanwhile Elmer had, as before, taken a section of the newspaper, crumpled it into a ball, and after that drew out his match box.
"Guess it's safe to drop this down," he remarked. "It seems so damp there can really be no danger of anything taking fire."
"Sure there couldn't," asserted Lil Artha, sturdily. "Let her go, Elmer; and everybody look."
The match crackled, and the resulting flame was instantly applied to the paper ball.
Then Elmer let this drop, after he had made sure it would burn.
Three pairs of very good eyes immediately started in to take a complete inventory of the contents of the little damp cellar under the deserted mill cottage.
For perhaps a full minute the paper ball continued to burn, lighting up the cellar well enough for them to see from wall to wall.
Then the flame dwindled, flickered, and finally went out altogether. Chatz gave a big sigh.
"Well, I declare!" he exclaimed.
"What did you see, Chatz?" asked Elmer.
"Who, me?" exclaimed the Southern boy. "Nothing at all, Elmer," and his manner told plainly that he was both disappointed and disgusted.
"How about you, Arthur?" continued the acting scout master.
"What did I see?" Lil Artha replied, promptly; "four damp-looking stone walls, a hard earth floor, and a few old boxes lying around, but not another blessed thing."
Something about Elmer's manner caught his attention and aroused his suspicions.
"See here, didyoudiscover anything?" he demanded.
"Well," replied Elmer, "I can't say that the evidence is so plain a fellow who runs may read; but from a number of things I've seen since coming here to the Munsey mill pond I've about made up my mind this place isn't quite as deserted as people seem to believe."
"Do you mean, Elmer," cried Lil Artha, excitedly, "that tramps or some more yeggmen, like those fellows we met with up at McGraw's lumber camp, have squatted here in this haunted house?"
"Something like that," replied the other, steadily, "though I don't believe they dare spend a night under this roof. There's no sign of that."
"But what would they kidnap our chum for?" demanded the excited tall scout.
"I don't know for certain, but we're going to find out pretty soon," said Elmer, with a determined look.
"Honest, now, Elmer, do you really believe that?" asked Chatz Maxfield, after staring at the scout master in a puzzled manner for half a dozen seconds.
"It looks so, on the face of it," replied the other.
"But plague take it," argued Chatz, "for the life of me I just can't understand, suh, what those fellows would want to make a prisoner of poor Nat for. In all our troop he's about the most harmless scout, except perhaps JasperMerriweather. Nat is strong as an ox, but he wouldn't hurt a fly if he could help it."
"That's so," echoed Lil Artha. "I've seen him walk around so as not to step on a harmless little snake on the road. And it wasn't because he was afraid of snakes, either. Remember he killed that fierce big copperhead last summer, after the other fellows had skipped out?"
"There's one chance, though," Elmer went on, "that after all Nat may be hiding."
"But he knows the sound of the bugle, and what penalty follows disobedience on the part of a scout," declared Lil Artha.
"That's true enough, fellows," Elmer said, as if he himself might be trying to see through a haze; "but perhaps Nat finds himself in a position where he can't answer us without betraying himself to these unknown men."
Again did Chatz and the tall scout look at each other helplessly. And judging from the way they shook their heads, the puzzle was evidently too deep for them.
"Say, Elmer, you manage to get on to these things in a way to beat the band; could you give a guess now about how many men there are holding out around this old haunted mill?"
Lil Artha asked this in good faith. He had come to believe, with most of his comrades, that Elmer Chenowith was next door to a wizard. Of course they realized that his knowledge was at all times founded on facts and common sense; yet this did not detract from the wonder of his accomplishments.
"I think there are three at least, perhaps four or five in the lot," Elmer replied.
"Whew! that's a healthy crowd of toughs, now, to run up against!" remarked Lil Artha.
"And what do you propose doing, suh, if I may make so bold as to ask?"
Chatz was usually a very dignified fellow, especially when coming in contact with one who, according to recognized scout law, must be considered his superior officer, and as such entitled to respect.
"First of all, perhaps we'd better go outside," the other replied.
"And tell the rest of the boys what we've found—or rather what we didn't find," remarked Lil Artha.
"Yes. There doesn't seem to be anything more to poke into here; for I'm dead certain those men, whoever they are, don't make their headquarters in either the mill or the cottage."
"You mean they don't sleep here; is that it, suh?" inquired Chatz.
"That covers the ground," Elmer answered.
"But theydocome in here sometimes, while the sun is shining," persisted Chatz.
"I have seen the marks of many heavy hobnailed shoes in the dust of this place; and some of the prints were very fresh," came the answer.
"Then if they're wanting in the nerve to sleep under this roof, when it would be so handy, in a thunderstorm like we had the other day, for instance, that looks as if they believed some in the ghost story, don't it, Elmer?"
"Why, I suppose it does, Chatz."
"All right. I'm not saying anything more," remarked the Southern boy, with a look of conviction on his dark face, "but I only hope we run across one or more of these mysterious unknowns while we're up at Munsey's mill."
"Listen to that, would you, Elmer! I declare if he don't mean to interview these fellows, and find out what they've gone and seen here in the night time!" and Lil Artha chuckled as he said this.
"All right," remarked Chatz. "There are a lot of things I've always wanted to know, and I'd be a silly to let the chance slip past me."
"Hey, how about this bally old trapdoor, Elmer?" demanded Lil Artha.
"We'd better put it back where it belongs," replied the scout leader.
"I reckon you're right, suh," observed Chatz. "If some one came in here, walking in the dark, he might take a nasty header down this hole."
"Say, supposing your ghost did that," remarked the tall scout, as he helped lift the wooden square back to where it belonged; "why, you could do better than asking questions of an outsider, because, Chatz, you might interview your old ghost himself."
The other drew himself up.
"Kindly omit calling itmyghost, if you please, suh," he said, stiffly. "I don't pretend to have any claim on the object in question—if there really is such a thing. I'm only wanting to know; and I come from South Carolina, suh, not Missouri."
Elmer, after one last glance around the kitchen, was heading for the other room where an exit could be made.
And it was almost ludicrous to see with what haste the other two followed after; just as if neither of them cared to be left alone inside the walls of the haunted mill cottage.
Once outside, they found several of their comrades clustered near by, evidently awaiting them. That curiosity was rapidly reaching fever heat it was easy to see from the anxious looks cast upon those who had been investigating the interior of the buildings.
No doubt every fellow had meanwhile been industriously engaged in ransacking his brain to remember all he had ever heard concerning Munsey's mill, and the troublesome spirit that had frightened away three separate tenants in years gone by.
They were rather a demoralized trio of boys who welcomed the coming of Elmer, Chatz, and Lil Artha.
"Find any signs of Nat?" asked one.
"Hope the plagued old ghost didn't get him," another ventured.
"Tell us all about it, Elmer?" asked the third member of the little bunch.
But the scout leader instead raised the bugle to his lips and sounded the assembly call.
Voices were heard, and immediately the others came hurrying to the spot. Landy was the last to arrive, and he came up puffing and blowing as though he might have been at some little distance when he heard the summons for gathering.
"Listen!" said Elmer, raising his hand, and immediately the confused chattering of many boyish tongues ceased.
This enabled them to hear distant shouts from the southeast, as though newcomers might be approaching the mill over about the same course as that they had pursued.
"Mark Cummings and the last detachment!" declared Matty.
"Hurrah! six more good fellows to do battle with the outlaws of the haunted mill!" exclaimed Red; at which some of the others gasped in astonishment, and exchanged uneasy glances.
"Better wait till they all get here, boys," said Elmer, "and then I'll tell you what we've found out, also what we suspect."
Chatz and Lil Artha could not but notice how particular Elmer was to use the plural pronoun. But then, that was always his way. Whatever faults the boy may have had—and the best of fellows comes far from being perfect—selfishness was not one of them. Impatiently they waited for the coming of the six scouts forming the last detachment. This would increase their roll-call to sixteen, lacking onlyoneof the number that had started out.
Presently a sight of khaki uniforms among the trees announced their near approach.
As the two wings of the Hickory Ridge Troop of Boy Scouts came together, there was a general exchange of badinage.
The newcomers had an intense desire to learn whethertheir interpretation of the messages might excel that of the first detachment.
But in the midst of the questioning, the startling news concerning Nat Scott's mysterious vanishing began to circulate among the newcomers.
This put a quietus on all business, and the entire troop clustered around Elmer, begging to know what it could mean.
So the scout master, understanding just how his comrades must feel, started in to explain, as far as lay in his power.
First of all, for the benefit of the newcomers, he told of how Nat's disappearance was brought to his attention by Toby and Ty, just before the coming of Matty and his group of scouts.
Then he quickly related what he and Chatz and Lil Artha had done in the deserted buildings close by.
Presently the story was finished, and some of the boys, who had listened with hearts beating much faster than their wont, took the first decent breath in five minutes.
Of course questions poured in on Elmer as thick as hail stones during a summer storm. Finding it utterly impossible to answer a quarter of these intelligently, and make any kind of progress, Elmer called for silence.
"It stands to reason, fellows," he remarked, when the last whisper had died away, "that we've got to have system about this thing if we expect to do any business. Am I right?"
"Yes, yes," came from every scout; for boys though they were, they recognized the wisdom of what he said.
"All right, then," Elmer went on. "I'm going to dividethe troop into three searching parties. We must scour the neighborhood and see if we can find any sign of where these unknown men sleep, for there isn't any trace of their staying in cottage or mill at night time."
"We understand what you mean, Elmer. How shall we divide up?" asked Mark.
"You keep your detachment as it was, intact, Mark," came the reply; "and Matty, you have your six to back you. Lil Artha, Toby, and Ty will fall in with me, and make the third party."
"All right, suh, we understand," called out Chatz.
But he, as well as many others of the boys, showed in their faces that they envied the good luck of the three fellows who had been picked out to form Elmer's smaller group.
"What are our duties to be?" asked Mark, who, having only recently arrived, and being staggered by the sudden nature of the intelligence, had as yet not fully grasped the situation.
"First of all, let every scout who has not already done so, pick up a stout club in the woods, as he passes along," said Elmer.
"Like this, for instance," remarked Jack Armitage, flourishing a husky specimen that would pass muster for an Irishman's shillalah.
"Or this!" cried Red, whose cudgel was as long as a walking stick, and almost as thick through as his wrist.
"Suit yourselves about that, boys," continued the scout master, "only don't be in a hurry to use them as weapons until you have the order. Now, each detachment mustkeep close enough together so that the members may communicate by means of patrol calls—the cry of the wolf, the slap of a beaver's tail as he beats the water to call his mate, or the scream of the eagle."
"We know, Elmer; what else?" asked Matty.
"All the while you will keep on the lookout for some sign of the enemy. The scout who discovers anything that he thinks would have a bearing on the solving of the puzzle must immediately summon his leader. This he can do by the whistle which all of you know, as it has been used before."
"Is that all, Elmer?" asked Mark.
"If the matter seems very important to the mind of the leader, let him give the assembly call very loud on his whistle. Upon hearing that, every scout is expected to give up hunting on his own account, and head in toward the place the signal comes from. Is that plain to every fellow?"
A chorus of assent answered him.
"That's all, then, fellows," Elmer went on. "Do your duty, every scout. We've got to find our comrade, and we've got to get him out of the hands of these men, whoever they may turn out to be."
"If they've hurt our Nat, it's going to be a bad day for them, that's all," blustered Red, as he pounded his club against an inoffensive stone.
"Now, start out, fellows, and let's see who'll be the lucky one to discover this hidden shack where these men must stay nights," Elmer concluded.
"Say, hold on here! Isthatwhat you're looking for—ahidden shack? Why, I can take you to one right now," called out a voice.
The speaker was Landy Smith.
Every boy became suddenly stationary when this surprising intelligence broke from the lips of the new member, who, like three others in the troop, did not wear a khaki uniform.
Elmer had several times let his eye fall on the stout boy, as though trying to guess what his manner indicated.
He had seen Landy come up last of all, panting so for breath that not one word had he spoken while the scout master was explaining things.
Landy was not only a tenderfoot scout, but he had in a number of ways proven his right to the title of greenhorn.
Imagine, then, the utter amazement of his comrades when he so coolly declared that he might be able to lead them to a hidden shack.
Elmer, if surprised, did not allow this fact to interfere with his plain duty.
"Come here, Landy," he said, and the stout new recruit hastened to do as he was ordered.
Of course Landy would not have been human, and aboy, had he been able to repress the grin that forced itself upon his rosy countenance.
Perhaps he remembered saying not so very long ago that the time might come when he would be able to prove his ability to carry the name of a scout.
Of course at the time Landy could never have even dreamed the opening would arrive so soon. That made it all the more welcome. Perhaps now, some of the fellows who loved to tease him, and say that he was too fat and slow-witted to ever be a shining success in the Hickory Hill troop, would change their tune.
Landy's hour had come. He was in the lime light, and occupied the center of the stage.
Mindful of the respect due his superior officer, Landy saluted as he clicked his heels together, and stood at attention before the scout master.
"You say you can show us where there is a hidden shack or cabin, do you, Number Eight?"
Elmer frequently addressed the boys by the number they held in their patrol, and as Landy was the last one admitted into the Wolf Patrol he went as Number Eight.
"Yes, sir," the tenderfoot replied, quite enjoying the fact that fifteen pairs of eager eyes were riveted upon him right then and there.
Landy looked redder than usual, but for all that he seemed able to command his voice, for it did not tremble a particle.
"You arrived later than the rest when I sounded the assembly on the bugle," went on Elmer; "was that because you were some little distance away?"
"Yes, sir, I was just going to peek in through the window of that funny little cabin I found when I heard the call. But I didn't look, sir, because I knewa scout's duty was to obey!"
"Hear, hear!" said Red, in a low voice.
"That was well done, Number Eight," Elmer continued, "and I hope you will always keep your duty before your mind. Do you think you could lead us to where you saw that hidden shack?"
"I expect I can, sir; anyhow, I'm ready to try," Landy promptly answered.
Several of the scouts exchanged nods and glances. Why, they had never before dreamed that the fat boy had so much business about him. He acted just as might one who had been a member of the troop a whole month, instead of but a few days.
It was plain to be seen that his becoming a scout was going to be the making of Philander Smith. Already there was a great change in his ways. He was throwing off his weaknesses, and beginning to think for himself.
"All right," said Elmer; "suppose you come with me, then, Number Eight, and try to go back over your own trail. That might be the quickest way to get there."
"But how about us, Mr. Scout Master; do we keep up the formation as arranged?" asked Mark.
"No, for the present that is all off," Elmer replied, "the whole of you fall in behind; and don't forget to keep an eye out for your sticks. But no talking above a whisper, remember. This may turn out to be serious business."
The scouts already realized this. Still his words of caution entailing silence were well placed, for boys as a rule do love to chatter.
And so the whole troop started off, with Elmer and Landy in the lead, the latter hardly knowing whether to be tickled at the attention he was receiving, or worried because he presently began to doubt his ability to "deliver the goods."
Strange how all sections of the woods look alike to a fellow who is a novice in the art of picking his way. Landy had imagined that he was just soaking in valuable information while following the lead of Matty or Elmer. But when the crisis arose, and he found himself placed upon his own responsibility, he lost confidence.
Pretty soon Elmer guessed the truth, and that their guide was getting what Lil Artha would call "wabbly." This was when he took them twice to the same spot and then looked pained.
"Up a stump, fellows," chuckled Larry, who had perhaps himself felt a little twinge of jealousy because a greenhorn had so suddenly leaped into the front when older and more experienced scouts had been unable to score.
But Elmer was not at all dismayed. In fact, to tell the actual truth, he had rather expected that the new beginner might find more or less trouble in carrying out his orders.
"Getting mixed up some, are you, Number Eight?" he demanded, as Landy scratched his head and then tenderly caressed quite a good-sized lump they now saw he had on his forehead.
"Well, I'm sorry to say, sir, I seem to be a little confused," admitted the fat boy; "but then perhaps thatain't to be wondered at if you knew just how hard I bumped into that crooked tree yonder."
"With your head?" asked Elmer.
"Yes, sir," replied Landy; "you see I was trying to hurry, when my foot caught in a vine and I went ker-slam right against that tree. Say, but I saw ten million stars right then! and that's no exaggeration, sir."
"Why do you say it was this tree, Number Eight?" the young disciple of woodcraft continued.
"Well, it was impressed pretty forcibly on my head, and my mind, too, sir," grinned Landy, "and perhaps, if you looked, you could find the dent I bet I made when I struck."
Some of the boys snickered at this. Not so Elmer, who seemed to feel he had quite a serious proposition on his hands, and that the others had a right to look to him to untangle the knot.
"I'll soon find out," he said, and then turning to the crowd he added: "keep back and give me a chance to see if Landy is right."
"He's after the trail, that's what," said one of the scouts, as they saw Elmer advance to where the crooked tree pointed out by the fat recruit stood, and bend down at its base.
Every eye remained glued on the young scout master. Not a word more was said, for they knew that explanation of Elmer's movements must be the right one.
No sooner had Elmer dropped to his knees than he felt a thrill of pleasure.
"It's here, sure enough!" he muttered, as his eye discoveredthe torn turf where Landy's toes must have dragged when he fell.
And with the knowledge of trailing which he possessed, it must surely prove an easy task to follow those plain tracks. Landy knew nothing at all concerning the art of hiding a trail, and which the bearer of the wampum belt and his companion had tried their best to put into practice with the idea of deceiving the pathfinder who came behind.
When Landy put his foot down it was with considerable emphasis. Consequently, any one of the more experienced scouts would have been equal to the task of following that trail backward.
As Elmer moved away he made a swift, beckoning movement with his arm. This the boys interpreted as a command or invitation to "get a move on," as Lil Artha put it, and follow after their leader.
So the troop moved onward, and more than one fellow's teeth came together with a click as he grasped his cudgel tighter in his hand, and resolved to give a good account of himself should it become necessary to do something violent.
True, the rules counseled peaceful victories; but there may be times when it becomes absolutely necessary for Boy Scouts to show that they have good red blood in their veins.
And most of those present were of the opinion that the present occasion promised to be just such a crisis that called for strenuous treatment.
Their companion, Nat Scott, had mysteriously disappeared,and they had good reason to believe that he had fallen into the hands of these unknown men who made the vicinity of Munsey's mill their secret headquarters.
Why they should seize upon Nat, and what object they could have in holding him a prisoner, were questions no one could answer, as yet. But they meant to know, and that before long.
Now and then some fellow would step aside without a word, and possess himself of some attractive club that had caught his eye while passing.
Evidently none of them had forgotten the injunction of their leader to arm themselves. And really it was strange how much comfort even a stout walking stick could give a fellow on an occasion of this sort, when unseen and unknown perils hovered about them.
Meanwhile Elmer stuck to his task. Indeed, it was an easy one for so experienced a tracker and pathfinder, and he did not hurry along faster simply because he wanted a little time to collect his own thoughts, and decide what ought to be done.
When Landy so obediently gave up his investigation, and sought to rejoin the balance of the troop when the bugle sounded, he managed to make what proved to be a "bee line" through the woods. Even trees that were in the way could not stop him with impunity, as he had proven when he collided with that crooked one.
This made Elmer's job still easier. And as he advanced farther into the woods he marveled first at the rashness of Landy in wandering so far away; and second at the ability he displayed in getting safely back to the shore of the pond.
Elmer was keeping one eye out ahead as he moved along. Of course he anticipated coming upon the concealed shack at any moment now. When he saw an unusually large cluster of high bushes and undergrowth he felt positive that he must be almost in touch with the place.
What kind of reception might they expect? If these men, whom none of them had as yet even seen, turned out to be rascals who were hiding from justice, and who suspected them of being a posse sent out to round up the tramp thieves, their manner of greeting might prove to be anything but friendly.
Could they have one or more fierce dogs among them? Elmer had not seen the first trace of a dog anywhere around, but this could hardly be accepted as positive evidence that there were none.
Frequently such men make it a point to possess canine companions. And these are invariably of some species fond of the spirit of battle.
It was partly the expectation of running across such four-footed enemies that had influenced Elmer to have the boys arm themselves with clubs. He knew what a power for good a stout cudgel may prove under such conditions.
Looking closely he had to confess that he could see no sign of life about that clump of bushes.
And yet the trail led directly from it; and as if to sweep away his last remaining doubt he now discovered a second series of fresh tracks leading straighttowardthe spot.
Besides, here was a regular path, beaten down by many feet, and which headed in the quarter Elmer knew the big pond lay.
That settled it.
Elmer waited for the balance of the troop to come up. Everyone's gaze was fastened on him. Eyes flashed more brightly than usual, and some of the boys naturally showed their nervousness by the way they kept their cudgels moving.
"Is that the place, Landy, where you saw the shack?" he demanded.
Landy had known it was for more than a full minute past, but he remembered that a scout on duty must wait to be asked before volunteering any information.
"Yes, sir," he replied, "that is the place."
"Spread out a little, fellows," said Elmer, quietly, "and advance slowly. Everyone be ready to give a good account of himself if they rush any dogs on us. Forward now!"
And silently the sixteen scouts, spread out somewhat like an open fan, started to advance upon the strange dense thicket in which Landy had seen a shack.
"Halt!"
At the command the scouts came to a stop. They had been gradually concentrating as they pushed forward, so that when this halt was made they formed half a circle, and each fellow was almost touching elbows with the next in line.
Just before them, even though pretty well concealed bythe foliage of the bushes, they could make out what appeared to be a rough shack.
No other name would apply, for it was clumsily built out of odds and ends of boards, secured at the mill, no doubt, together with sods, a heap of stones, some mud that had hardened until it resembled mortar; and, finally, a roof thatched with straw, much after the style the boys had seen in pictures of foreign cottages in Switzerland, France, and Italy.
"Say," observed Red, who found it unusually hard to keep from expressing his views, "I don't believe there are any kiyi dogs around here, fellows."
"Don't seem like it," remarked another, doubtless breathing a sigh of relief at the improved prospect.
"Sure we'd have heard them give tongue," observed Toby, advancing boldly to look in through the opening at the side of the shack, and which doubtless served the purpose of a window.
"Careful, Toby; go slow," called out Elmer; for there could be no telling what sort of a storm the appearance of the boys in khaki might raise within the shanty.
An intense silence followed. Every fellow could feel his heart pounding against his ribs like a trip hammer, and he wondered whether the sound were loud enough to betray his nervous frame of mind to his companions, never dreaming that they were all in the same box.
A red squirrel in a tree overhead, that had been observing all these doings with round-eyed wonder, began to chatter and scold. A little striped chipmunk sat up on a neighboring stump and took note.
"Nobody home, fellers," called out Toby, after he had apparently stared in through that opening for more than a full minute.
Some of the scouts looked relieved; others frowned as if disgusted. This sort of thing might be all very well, but it did not seem to be taking them any closer to the rescue of their comrade, or clearing up any of the dark fog of mystery that hung like a wet blanket between themselves and the solution.
Elmer immediately strode forward. By following the well-defined path he was able to find himself at what was plainly the rude door of the shack.
Upon this he knocked sharply. There came no answer, and even the keenest ears among the scouts failed to catch the slightest sound following this summons.
"Try it once more, Elmer," advised cautious Mark.
Again the tattoo sounded, but as before it produced no results. So Elmer opened the door, which he saw had been fashioned in the rudest way from boards, and hung upon strap hinges.
As he pushed the door aside, every scout held his breath and gripped his stick expectantly. But nothing happened. No string of rough men came bustling forth, demanding in coarse language what the boys meant by bothering them.
It looked as though Toby must have struck the right key when he so confidently declared there was nobody at home.
So Elmer entered, with some of the bolder among the scouts at his heels. The balance contented themselves in pressing around the door and window, and taking it out in looking.
Just as he had expected, Elmer found the interior of the shack pretty gloomy. Under the best of conditions very little daylight could find a way through such small openings, and these were now almost filled by the bodies of the curious scouts. But this was a matter easily remedied. Elmer had his matchsafe ready in his hands, and his first act was to strike a light.
As soon as the match flamed up he cast one quick look around the interior. This assured him that there were certainly no low-browed men crouching in the corners, and ready to hurl themselves upon the young invaders.
The next thing Elmer did was also a very natural move. He saw a candle in a bottle, standing on an upturned box, and stepping forward he applied his match to the waiting wick.
Then he looked around again.
There could be no doubt about this shack having been recently used as sleeping quarters by a number of men.
Several heaps of straw told where they lay, and Elmer counted four of these. Then there were a few bits of old clothing hanging from nails, a pair of heavy shoes, a frying pan, a kettle in which coffee might have been made, some broken bread, part of a ham, and some ears of corn; this last possibly stolen from the field of some farmer.
It looked like a tramp's paradise, but the puzzle was, what would tramps be doing so far away from all customary sources of supply?
Elmer sniffed the atmosphere, which was both heavy and far from pleasant. And Lil Artha, who had pressed intothe shack, hot upon the heels of his chief, took note of his significant action.
"I should say yes, it's rank as all get out," he remarked, holding his nose between a finger and thumb. "Even beats that fishy smell we struck when we looked down into the cellar at the cottage. Whew!"
Others expressed themselves about as strongly, and little Jasper Merriweather, who had unwisely pushed into the shack, found it necessary to hurry out again, white of face and gasping.
But Elmer had conceived an idea, even while suffering from the unpleasant odor of the place.
"Howling cats!" exclaimed Lil Artha, "I don't see how you can stand it, Elmer. Talk to me about tramps, and the way they hate water, here's the rank evidence of it. Wow, ain't I sorry for poor Nat if he's got to associate with this hobo crowd for long!"
"But how do we know they're hoboes?" asked Elmer, turning on the tall scout.
"Hey? What's that?" exclaimed Lil Artha, actually so surprised that he neglected to hold that firm grip on his nose any longer.
"What makes you so sure they're tramps?" pursued the scout master.
"Why, goodness gracious alive, Elmer, you don't mean to say you doubt that now?" cried the tall boy, sweeping his hand around as though to draw attention to the various articles that seemed to stamp that theory a positive fact.
"Seeing these things here is what makes me question that idea very much," began Elmer; and then he pickedup one of the old shoes, to hold it at arm's length. "Look at that, fellows; never made in this country, and you know it. Hobnails such as no one but foreigners use on their shoes."
"Well, I declare; I guess Elmer's right!" exclaimed Red.
"He certainly is, suh, take my word foh it," was the way Chatz expressed himself.
"Now look here, whoever saw a tramp's nest with anything like this in it?" and Elmer picked up a string of beads, evidently a rosary, that must have been overlooked in a hasty flight.
"Whew, that's going some!" ejaculated Phil Dale who, with his cousin Landy, happened to be in the shack eager to see all that went on.
"Perhaps he can even tell us what brand of foreigners these fellows are," remarked Landy, who was beginning to look upon Elmer pretty much in the light of a wizard.
"Oh, that ought to be easy, fellows," said the young scout master, as he reached up and took down a worn letter his quick eye had noticed stuck in a crack.
Every eye was immediately focused on the scout master. They knew his reasoning powers of old, and expected that Elmer would quickly put them on the right track now.
Indeed, hardly had the latter glanced at the well-worn letter he held than he smiled.
"What is it?" asked Red, impatiently.
"Yes, tell us what you've found out, Elmer," said Lil Artha.
"Why, look here at the name. As near as I can make out it's Giuseppi Caroni," replied the other.
"Wow, that is plain enough!" exclaimed Red.
"Sure Italiano," echoed the tall scout.
"Just as I thought," replied Elmer.
"But you can prove it," remarked Chatz.
"That's easy enough," added Dr. Ted, "the thtamp ought to be enough, you thee."
"And if it isn't, fellows, here's the postmark as plain as anything—Naples, Italy," continued Elmer.
"Naples, hey?" remarked Lil Artha. "Say, I was just reading about Naples the other day, and it said that next to the island of Sicily we get more of our Black Hand crowd from there than any other part of Garibaldi's old land."
A gasp seemed to go the complete rounds of all the khaki-clad warriors who thronged that mysterious little shack.
"Black Hand, you say, Lil Artha?" exclaimed Red.
"Yes, and anarchists, too; the kind that blow up the kings and queens of the Old World. The kind that abduct people so as to make their rich relatives whack up a big ransom."
"Oh!"
Some of the boys looked a little timid, and glanced around apprehensively, as though they anticipated seeing a whole bunch of fierce-looking dynamite users rise up around them.
Others shut their teeth together harder than ever, and these more determined fellows, it might be noticed, tightened the grip they had upon their sticks.
All eyes were turned again upon Elmer, who had listened to these remarks with an amused smile.
"Hold on your horses, boys," he said, raising his hand just then to still the rising dispute.
"Shut up, everybody; Elmer's got something more to tell us," Lil Artha cried.
The hubbub died away, and an eagerness to listen took its place; for every one of them was anxious to pick up points concerning the clever way their leader figured things out.
It was an important part of a scout's duty to learn how to read signs, not only when following a trail, but at all times.
And especially valuable would this qualification become when confronted by a baffling mystery such as the Hickory Ridge troop was now up against.
"Those who occupied this shack were four in number," Elmer began.
"How did you find that out?" asked Red.
"By the various tracks. So far as I could see there were just four separate kinds leading up to this place, and each one different."
"Hurrah! I tell you, fellows, that's the way to learn things. Elmer knows how to do it," cried Lil Artha.
Without even smiling at the implied compliment Elmer went on:
"Two of them wore shoes with hobnails just as you see on this old cast-off shoe here. A third one had on American-made brogans, and I expect they hurt him some, too, because he was limping as he walked. He is undoubtedly the chap who used to own these old foreign-made gun-boats."
"Hold on a minute, please, Elmer," pleaded Red.
"All right. You want to ask me something, and I think I know what it is," remarked the other.
"You say this fellow's new shoes hurt him, and made him limp; please tell us how in the wide world you ever found that out?" Red continued.
"Well, it might be possible that the fellow was always lame, but his tracks show plainly that he limped. Something was wrong with his left leg or foot, because the toe dug deeply into the ground."
"Well, I declare is that dead-sure evidence, Elmer?" demanded the astounded tenderfoot, Landy, who was listening with all his might to these intensely interesting facts as brought out by the scout master.
"Try it yourself sometime, Landy," remarked Elmer. "Pick out a nice piece of ground where the marks will show plainly. Limp as naturally as you can with the left leg. Then go back and examine the trail. You will find that not only does the left foot dig deeper at the toe than the right one, but that same toe drags a little over the ground as you bring the left foot forward each time."
"Just listen to that, will you!" remarked Red, "but I know Elmer is right. I can grab the principle of the thing."
"But how about the fourth one, Elmer; seems to me you've been holding back something there, that you mean to spring on us," said Lil Artha.
"Well, I have," remarked the other, quickly. "This fourth track was smaller than the others, and the person also wore American-made shoes."
"Ah, a boy, eh?" asked Red.
The scout master shook his head.
"Wrong that time, my boy. You'll have to guess again, I reckon," he said.
"Was it a woman, Elmer?" demanded Lil Artha.
"Just what it was—an Italian woman, squatty like most of her race; and I should say between fifty-five and sixty years of age," Elmer replied, soberly.
At that there arose new exclamations of wonder, as well as of disbelief.
"Oh, come off, now," remarked Red, quite forgetting in his amazement the respect supposed to be shown for an acting scout master, even though in the private walks of life he might only be a fellow playmate; "you can't expect us to swallow that, now, Elmer."
"Do you mean about the woman's height, or her age?" asked the other, calmly.
"Why—er—both I guess," faltered Red, weakening as he saw the positive front of the other.
"Stop and think, did you ever see any other than a short, squatty woman among the Italian laborers? And I reckon nobody else ever did. They carry heavy burdens on their heads, and people say that's one reason they're always dumpy," Elmer began.
"He's right, fellows," broke out Landy; "why, I've seen a dago woman carrying a mattress, a stove and some chairs on her head all at the same time. Gee, looked like a two-legged moving van:"
"But see here, you notice a shelf with a few things on it, some hairpins among the lot. It was built unusually low, soshecould reach it. And what's this you see here, fellows? A piece of broken looking glass fastened to the wall. Notice how low down it is? No man ever used that glass, you can depend on it; and the woman who did was surely small, wasn't she now?"
"A regular sawed-off," assented Lil Artha, emphatically.
"Elmer's sure proved his point there, fellows," declared Red Huggins, grinning.
"But what makes you think the woman is old, Elmer?" asked Landy, curiously.
"That's so; how in the wide world could you know such a thing without ever seeing her?" demanded Toby.
"Nothing could be easier, fellows; see here!"
As Elmer spoke he reached out his hand and took something off the low shelf.
Those in the room crowded around, fairly wild to follow out the clever deduction of their young leader.
"Why, it's a comb," cried one.
"Only an old broken comb," echoed another, with a shade of uncertainty in his voice.
"What is there about that to tell you, Elmer?" queried Red, staring first at the article in question, and then at the smiling scout master.
"I know," burst out Matty just then.
"Tell us," pleaded several.
"Yes, throw some light on the dark mystery," added Lil Artha, "because to the untrained eye it's all as gloomy as the inside of my pocket. A comb, and how to tell a woman's age from that! Well, I own up beat."
"Why, it's as easy as falling off a log, or coming down in a smash when you're first learning how to fly," Matty began.
"Hey, don't you drag me into this thing," spoke up Toby, whose many experiments as a new beginner in the science of aviation had usually ended in his enjoying a disastrous tumble.
"All you have to do is to examine the comb," Matty went on. "Then you'll find that it holds a few long hairs, and, fellows, just see how gray they are, will you?"
"Well, what d'ye think of that!" burst out Red. "And I guess we're a lot of chumps, fellows, not to have seen through it before."
"Would a woman be among anarchists, Elmer?" demanded Toby.
"Oh, I don't know," came the reply. "Perhaps so, though not as a usual thing. But understand that I haven't said I agreed with you altogether, when you gave such a hard name to these people."
"Then you don't count 'em as Black Hand kidnapers, who expect to raise a bully good sum by holding our pard, Nat Scott, for ransom?" demanded Red.
"I've seen nothing to tell me that's the way matters stand," Elmer commenced saying, "and several things seem to say just the opposite. The presence of the woman, andher having such an article as this precious string of beads don't seem to go along with such a thing as a band of rascals."
"Yes, yes, go on, Elmer," several called out.
"We haven't found the slightest sign of a bomb factory here, or even a book teaching how to bring about a revolution. These things make me believe that these three men and a woman may not be such terribly hard cases after all."
"But you believe they've got our chum, and are holding him a prisoner, don't you, Elmer?" asked Matty.
"I do believe it," Elmer went on. "In fact I know it, because if you look back of that empty box yonder, which they use for a table, you'll find a hat—Nat's hat, if I'm not mistaken."
A rush was made for the box in question, and there followed a confusion of tongues, as half a dozen fellows tried to talk at once.
"You found a hat, didn't you?" demanded Elmer.
"We sure did, and here she is," cried Red, holding up the article in question.
"It looks like a scout's regulation hat?" Elmer remarked.
"Which nobody could deny," sang Lil Artha.
"And as every scout present has his own hat on his head right now, it stands to reason this couldn't belong to any of us, eh, fellows?"
"To clinch the matter, Elmer," observed Matty, "if you look inside the hat you'll find two little silver letters fastened there. The N. S. stands for Nathaniel Scott."
"Well, that point seems proved. Nat was here. Perhaps in wandering about he struck this place. But the indications are he was captured first, and brought to this shack."
"But," said hasty Red, interrupting Elmer, "if you admit that these Italians have made our pard a prisoner, how can you say they are not bad men, thieves wanted by the officers of the law, even if not anarchists?"
"Some things I can only guess at, without being able to explain my conviction. But, honestly, fellows, I hardly think these people are as bad as you make out. I know blackmail is practiced over in Italy a lot. And that one of the favorite ways to get money is to kidnap the son or daughter of a rich man, and demand a heavy ransom. But in this case they would hardly pick Nat Scott for a pigeon to be plucked. His father is only a schoolmaster. There are others here who would seem to be more attractive bait."
"Hear, hear!" cried Lil Artha, casting a meaning look in the direction of Larry Billings, whose father, being a banker, was reckoned the richest man in all Hickory Ridge.
"But ain't we wasting a heap of time here?" asked Red, impatient as always to be doing something.
"That's just what I was saying to Ted here," declared Larry, whom the meaning glance of Lil Artha had plainly rendered uneasy.
"You may think so," remarked Elmer, "but this is a case of the more haste the less speed. I reckon it's wise for us to make sure about the character of these Italians before we go to chasing after them. They're an excitablelot, you know, and we might bring on trouble that could just as well be avoided if we went slow."
Matty looked at his leader sharply.
"Say, see here, Elmer," he remarked, "you know, or anyhow you've got a pretty good hunch, who these people are?"
"Why, yes, Italians," laughed the other.
"Now, that ain't what I mean," Matty went on. "No dodging, but own up."
"You're wrong there," Elmer said. "I don't know, and my suspicions so far are founded on such slight evidence that I don't care to commit myself before the whole of you—yet."
"But from what you said just now," Matty continued, "you don't seem to agree with the rest of us when we call these Italians anarchists."
"Because there hasn't been a solitary thing to prove it. We pathfinders must always discover some trace of the trail, or else we'd go astray. And I've owned up that I'm more than half inclined to believe these people are not the bad lot you'd make out."
"But they've got our chum a prisoner," said Red.
"Looks that way," assented Elmer, cheerfully.
"And honest men would never do a thing like that," declared Red.
"Oh, wouldn't they?" replied the other. "Perhaps now the shoe might be on the other foot."
"Eh?"
"And perhaps these honest people might suspect that you three fellows in uniform represented the great UnitedStates army about to surround them, and make them prisoners because they had been occupying private property here at Munsey's mill."
The scouts looked at one another, astonished. Here was a theory then which had never appealed to them before.
"Well, I declare!" gasped Red.
"Don't it just beat the Dutch how he gets on to all these things?" said Lil Artha.
"But, Elmer, why take poor Nat a prisoner, bottle him up so he couldn't call for help, fetch him to this old shack, and finally carry him off when they light out!"
It was Matty who asked this question. Elmer smiled and shook his head.
"I can figure out a lot of things," he said, "just as I can read Indian writing; but please don't expect me to tell you what peoplethink. I only know that these Italians were surely frightened at the sudden appearance of three fellows in khaki, and that they probably took them for soldiers. They must have had some idea in view when they captured Nat, and hustled him to this shack. Perhaps they only meant to hide here until the rest of us had gone."
"And they got more scared when you sounded that bugle, I reckon," remarked Lil Artha.
"Yes, and then the coming of another bunch of six scouts may have made them believe the worst was about to happen," Elmer continued.
"Say, I thought I heard low voices when I was just going to peep in that window there, and the bugle called me back to duty," Landy spoke up.
"Yes," Elmer added; "and it may be the coming ofLandy just finished their panic. After he went away they must have vamosed the ranch in a hurry."
"Well, all this is mighty interesting, sure," declared Red, with an appreciative nod, "but it ain't bringing us any closer to finding our chum Nat."
"Yes, what's the programme, Elmer?" asked Chatz. "Do we take up the trail right away, and try to follow these heah rascals to their new camp? You can count on all of us, suh, to do the troop credit."
"There may be another way," remarked Elmer, who seemed to be pondering over the matter.
"Tell us about it, then, please."
"Sometimes it's the best policy to hike after an enemy as fast as you can put. Then again, there are other times when a whole lot can be won just by waiting for the enemyto come to you."
"That's so, fellows," declared Matty; "I see what Elmer means. He thinks that if we hid out here, we'd be able to bag the whole blooming crowd soon."
"Sounds all right in theory," admitted Red, "but for one I'd like to know why Elmer believes that push will come back after a little."
"I only feel pretty sure on one point," explained the acting scout master. "And that concerns the woman alone."
"Meaning, I take it, that you think they'll send her back, the cowards, to find out whether the coast is clear," ventured Red.
"No, they will never have to send her back, fellows," Elmer went on, positively.
"Won't, eh?" remarked Lil Artha.
"I firmly believe that once we withdraw from this same old shack the woman will steal back of her own free will."
"To get her precious old comb, mebbe," sneered Red.
"To recover something which I guess she values above ten thousand combs," and Elmer as he spoke held up the string of beads forming the rosary.