"You don't say so, Ted?" sang out Paul.
He knew that he was facing trouble, and that in an instant as it were, the conditions had entirely changed. From being the pursuer he now found himself with the shoe on the other foot. All the same, Paul was not at all daunted. He had encountered these fellows too many times in the past to fear them now.
It was a question whether Monkey had intentionally led him into a set trap, or his coming upon the balance of the crowd might be looked on as an accident. Paul, remembering how the other had called out, under the impression that the one chasing after him might be his chief, had his own opinion.
But this was no time for thinking it over. He could hear sounds as though several fellows were pushing forward, spreading out as if to try and surround him. Plainly then, he had better be moving, unless he cared to let the Slavin crowd get hold of him.
Paul sprang away. He knew about how theground lay. Catch as bright a chap as this young scout rushing wildly through the open woods without getting some idea as to the direction in which he was heading. He turned back over the course he had so lately covered.
"He's gone, Ted!" whooped a voice; but it was not that of Monkey Eggleston; for that worthy was hardly in possession of enough breath to more than whisper.
"After him then, every feller! We oughter get him after such a bully chance. Go it for all you're worth, d'ye hear, Scissors, Bud, and Pete!"
But as for himself, Ted did not do much running. What was the use, when he had followers able and willing to obey the crook of his little finger? Besides, Ted knew what it meant to bang up against a tree in the dark, and knock the skin off one's nose. As long as the sound of pursuit could be plainly heard he continued to bellow out his orders, as though hoping to spur his followers on to success.
Paul had little fear. Once again his keen sight was apt to play him a good turn; for he could avoid contact with obstacles that caught the others napping. He even laughed more than once when he heard a crash, and accompanying groans, from some point in his rear.
"Good boy!" Paul said to himself, when the voice of Scissors was heard, lamenting the factthat a young chestnut seemed to have a harder surface than his forehead boasted; "just keep on some more, and you'll be the worst banged-up bunch Stanhope ever knew," and he could not keep from chuckling again as in his imagination he saw the sorry picture of the three pursuers when they returned to hand in their report, with a list of their bruises.
Evidently the hot pursuit must have come to an end with that last collision on the part of Scissors. Paul, listening, could hear voices, as though the boys were condoling with one another; but there was no longer the sound of footsteps.
After that there was no need of haste, and having figured out just where he was, Paul presently found the road. Of course all he had to do now was to walk along this, and in another minute he caught sight of a bright light ahead.
He knew the boys must have started the several fires that had been laid for an emergency. They were doubtless more or less worried about his continued absence; but did not know which way to start the search.
So Paul, to relieve their anxiety, sent out a call that would reach their ears and tell them that he was coming. And presently he walked up to the fire, where he was immediately surrounded by the excited scouts, all clamoring to know what he had discovered.
"First tell me what Monkey Eggleston threw into the fire, that made such a flash," Paul insisted, turning to Wallace.
The other held something up. It seemed to be a tin box, with a string attached.
"What's all this?" asked Paul, and then, as he took it in his hands, he gave a cry of astonishment, adding: "why, I declare, if it doesn't look a little like one of those bombs you read about. And this is supposed to be the fuse, isn't it? Well, those fellows are getting along pretty swiftly when they try to blow up our supplies."
Of course the "bomb" was not such a dreadful affair. True enough, the tin box contained quite a quantity of powder, but it was a question as to whether the explosion would have done very much damage, even had it occurred.
No doubt it might have scattered things somewhat, and possibly a fire would have resulted, unless prompt measures were taken to stamp the sparks underfoot. What astonished the young scout leader, however, was the strange method of introducing the fake bomb among the supplies, and leading the end of the slow match to the smouldering fire.
"What won't they try next?" said Jack, looking serious, as he took the contrivance once more in his hands.
"Goodness knows," remarked Wallace; "buttell us about your adventure, Paul. We heard an awful shouting in the woods over yonder, and some of the boys wanted to start out hunting for you, but the racket stopped just then. Besides, Jack said that he believed you were getting the best of it."
"Do you know why I said that?" interrupted Jack; "well, you see, I knew it was those fellows doing the hollering, and they sounded as if they were mad; so I made up my mind they wouldn't yelpthatway if they had their hands on Paul."
"Which was clever reasoning, Jack," declared his chum, instantly. "You had your wits about you that time. I'm glad the whole camp didn't take to rushing through the woods, chasing a jack-o'-lantern. What a jolly time we'd have had rounding up the bunch again. Now, sit down, and I'll tell you just what happened."
It was laughable to see how the eyes of some of the scouts seemed to almost stick out of their heads when they listened to how Paul first discovered the moving object up in the big oak. They turned their heads, and looked up eagerly, as though half expecting to see another monkey-like form hanging from a limb.
So the story was soon told. Many were the exclamations of wonder after the end had been reached. A multitude of questions poured in on Paul; but he shook his head, saying:
"Keep those for to-morrow, fellows. What we want now is to repair our fences, and get some sleep. But you can see how important it is that every scout placed on guard keep his eyes and ears open, ready to give warning in case the enemy try their tricks on us."
He did not reproach the two boys who had been on duty at the time he and Wallace held forth, though strongly suspecting that they must have been asleep. But what he said caused more than one cheek to flush; and doubtless a number of lads inwardly resolved that from henceforth they would never, never allow themselves to slacken their vigilance when on post.
Nothing more was heard from the Slavin crowd on that night. Paul could easily guess why; for in imagination he saw the faces of Monkey Eggleston, Scissors, Bud and possibly several others, decorated with strips of court plaster, intended to hide the results of their tree-hugging adventures.
He only hoped that the lesson would be taken to heart, and cause those trouble-makers to avoid the camps of the scouts in the future; but knowing the nature of both Ted and Ward, he did not have much expectation that way.
Bobolink had them all up at dawn with the reveille call upon his beloved bugle. This never left his side, and some of the boys jokingly declared that he cuddled it in his arms while heslept, for fear lest some prank-loving scout hide it away, just to tease him.
The cooks got busy, and presently there was a delicious odor of coffee around that region, together with that of frying bacon.
William was master of ceremonies when it came time to start operations looking to a supply of flapjacks. He had willing imitators in the cooks of the other two patrols; and while they may not have met with the same glorious success that attended his own efforts, the results were so pleasing to the still hungry scouts that every scrap of batter prepared was used up. Even then there were lamentations because of a shortage in the supply of pancakes.
There was no hurry to get off. Paul was too wise a commander to spoil the pleasure of his comrades by unseemly haste, with so much time before them.
About nine o'clock the command started forth, with Bluff's drum beating time, and the inspiring notes of the bugle lending vigor to their eager feet. By noon some of those who had seemed most chipper at the beginning of the day's tramp were limping more or less, though still full of grit, and a determination not to lag behind.
The country was getting very wild now. Occasionally they began to have glimpses of the upper Bushkill, when the forest opened more orless. Later on the road was likely to skirt the river, they understood, when conditions would be prime for possibly a swim, or some fishing, which latter, they imagined must be good so far away from town.
They were still taking it easy after eating a lunch that possibly cleaned up every scrap of the goodies prepared by fond mothers and sisters; when Paul, who was sitting talking to Jack, noticed a vehicle coming swiftly along the road.
Whoever occupied the rig seemed to be in somewhat of a hurry, for he was every now and then whipping the horse, which showed signs of fatigue, as though it had come quite some ways.
As the man drove past he raised his head to look with a frown in the direction of the scout encampment. Paul did not like his appearance at all. Indeed, he was of the opinion that the man might even have stolen the rig somewhere; for he acted as though anxious to get away.
But his bewilderment increased when he saw Joe Clausin suddenly jump to his feet and stare after the departing stranger, his face turning very white.
"Oh! it's him, it's him!" Paul plainly heard him exclaim.
"Who?" demanded William, as he caught the low-spoken words of Joe Clausin.
"Yes, tell us about him, Joe," went on another of the scouts. "I never saw the man before, and I shouldn't like to meet him on a dark night either. Ugh!"
But Joe turned suddenly red, and shook his head, trying to pass the thing off with a laugh.
"Thought I knew the duck, fellers, but I reckon I must have been mistaken, 'cause you see, the man I took him for is away off at the other side of the world right now," he said. But Paul's keen eyes saw that Joe did not believe any such thing.
"Say, boys, Joe's taken to seeing double," jeered William; "the coffee must have gone to his head. We'll have to remember next time, and make him a cup of grandmother tea."
Paul had something to think over. In connection with the strange robbery of the feed-man's place, and the queer actions of Mr. Clausin thenand since, it was little wonder that the young scout leader connected this new event with the other.
He tried to figure it out, but all seemed a blank. No doubt, if he could at some time coax Joe to confess who it was he believed this stranger to be, who was in the vehicle, and who looked back so often as he whipped his tired horse, the puzzle might not appear quite so dense.
But Joe was apparently in no mood just then for any confession. He seemed to have set his teeth firmly together, as though determined that not one of his comrades must learn the slightest thing about his troubles.
Paul tried to picture the face of the man as he had caught it in that one rapid glimpse. Had he ever known him? Theredidseem to be some little familiar look about his expression; but try as he would he could not seem to place the other just then.
But Joe knew; Joe was not in a maze of doubt; and the knowledge did not seem to have given the Clausin boy any great pleasure either; which made the enigma all the more like a tangle to Paul.
Again the Banner Boy Scouts set forth. After the rest, and a little attention paid to their aching feet the cripples were able to keep up with the rest for an hour or so. By degrees they would perhaps become hardened to this sort of work. When a boy has never done much steady walkingit comes tough for a time. He may be used to playing all day, but that means a change of action. It is the steady grind, hour after hour, that tells on his lower extremities, until they get hardened to the test.
At three they came upon the river, and Paul understood that it would be more or less of a companion to their march from that time on.
Every fellow greeted it with delight. It seemed like an old friend, because they had been accustomed to skating on its frozen surface, and bathing in its pellucid depths, year after year.
"Don't it look good to meet with a familiar friend, though?" cried Bobolink taking off his hat, and making a most respectful bow in the direction of the gurgling water.
"Listen, would you?" scoffed William, always ready to get in a sly dig at his comrade; "to hear him talk you'd think we'd been away from home a solid month; when it was only yesterday we broke the apron strings, and sauntered forth, bent on adventure. What will he do when a whole long week has crawled along. Oh! me, oh! my! I see his finish, poor old Bobolink!"
But despite his words, even William cast many a fond side look at the noisy stream that was foaming among the rocks; for was it not heading toward Stanhope, where the softest of beds lay unused, and all manner of good things to eat weredoubtless going to waste during the absence of twenty hungry boys?
Wilder still grew the country. Even Paul had had no idea it could be so rough within twenty miles of home. But as a rule the boys of Stanhope had confined their tramps and wheeling trips to the other three sides of the town; since the roads were much better, and the country level; so that no one knew anything about this region, save through hearsay.
"Oh! look, there it is!" ejaculated A. Cypher, who happened to be in the lead just as they came out of a woody tract, and turned a bend in the rough road.
During the last hour Paul had abandoned all idea of holding the scouts in any sort of regular formation, so that it had become, what William called, a "free-for-all," with khaki-clad lads stretched out along fifty yards of space, usually in small squads, and a rear guard to round up stragglers.
Of course these words from Nuthin caused a great craning of necks. Those who at the time chanced to be in the rear hastened their steps, eager to discover what it was attracted so much attention on the part of their chums.
"Why, it's the mountain!" said Horace Poole, with a trace of wonder in his voice.
"Sure it is, old Rattlesnake, at home," declared William, promptly.
"Wow! don't it look awful big, fellows?" remarked the awed Tom Betts.
"And d-d-dark as a c-c-cellar!" remarked Bluff, solemnly.
Paul looked with considerable interest at the great pile of rock and brush that loomed up so close at hand.
Many a time during the past two years he had planned to make a run up here, with the idea of seeing for himself if all the strange stories he had heard about grim old Rattlesnake Mountain could be true. They had always been broken up, either through his intended companion backing down, or else some family flitting that took one of the boys away from Stanhope during the holidays.
But now the long anticipated day had come at last. He was looking up at the big mountain, only a short distance away; and while the scouts could hardly expect to climb its rocky side that day, possibly camp might be made at the base.
Even the cripples seemed to mend under the promise of reaching the foot of the mountain that afternoon. They walked briskly for half an hour at least, and then fell back into the same old limp, though proving game for the finish.
"No signs of wheels around here, are there,Paul?" asked Jack, as he sought the side of his chum at the head of the straggling procession.
"Now that's queer, but d'ye know I was just thinking about that same thing," the scout leader remarked. "To tell you the truth I was examining the ground as I went along. Perhaps you noticed me, and that's why you spoke?"
"Yes, that gave me an idea," admitted Jack, readily enough. "I wondered whether those fellows could have gone past us last night while we were in camp, and are even now perched somewhere on the mountain, watching us crawl along down here."
"Well, that's just what they've done. See here, you can notice the marks of the bicycle tires in the road. Little travel away up here, and along the side where it's smoothest they've gone single file, following the motorcycle of Ward, I guess."
"Why didn't we see that before, then?" demanded Jack, frowning as he eyed the tell-tale marks.
"I have looked a number of times," Paul went on; "but couldn't see anything. So you can understand it gave me something of a shock just now to discover the tracks."
"Have you reasoned it out?" asked his chum; knowing full well that Paul would never allow such a problem to remain unsolved long.
"There's only one explanation Jack, that Ican see. Perhaps you remember noticing a little side road that joined with this one about a quarter of a mile back?"
"Of course, I remember it. Then you think——"
"They must have come out of that road ahead of us," Paul went on. "That's the way they got in their licks. Somebody knew about how it turned around, and joined on to the main stem again. What do you say, Jack?"
"Why, of course. And now I remember hearing Scissors boast that he had the only map ever made of the Rattlesnake Mountain country—a logger charted it one winter, hoping to get his governor interested in some timber cutting scheme he had in mind, which fell through though."
"That settles it. They're on the ground first; but what do we care about that, if they only leave us alone?" Paul remarked, seriously.
"There's a call for you, Paul, from some of the fellows in the rear," observed Jack, just then. "I think they want to snap off a view of old Rattlesnake, with the troop stretched out along the road here. The sun is dropping lower all the while, and if we're going to get a picture we'll all want to keep, it ought to be right now."
"A good idea, and I'll do everything I can to help out," laughed the leader.
The command was ordered to fall in, so as to present an orderly appearance in the picture that was to be taken from the rear.
"We don't want to look like a bunch of hoboes trailing along," declared Jud.
"And every fellow quit limping, or you'll just spoil the whole business," pleaded the one who was delegated to use the camera, he being the best expert the troop boasted in this line, and winner in the competition of the preceding Autumn.
The picture taken, they once more broke ranks, and pushed forward.
At five o'clock they found themselves at what seemed to be the base of the high and forbidding mountain over which the road wound.
"Oh! please say Alabama, here we rest!" called one of the limping pilgrims.
Paul had been closely observing the ground, and as if in reply he made a gesture that Bobolink readily understood. Immediately the bugle sounded, and a cheer broke forth, since every member of the troop felt more or less jaded with the long day's walk, and ready to call it off.
Immediately a scene of bustle ensued. The wagon was emptied of its load, and tents confiscated by the various patrols. Good-natured disputes and chaffing accompanied each tent raising; but the boys had by this time become moreor less accustomed to the various duties connected with making camp, as well as breaking up, and so in what seemed a very short time all the canvas was in place.
After that fireplaces were scooped out, just as on the previous afternoon; only now they called it an old story. Every boy was learning things he had never known by actual experience before. Reading of such woodcraft in books is very good, but it does not compare with the personal trial. Once these things are actuallydoneby an observant lad, and he will never in all his life forget the lesson.
Long before dusk began to set in, the supper was under way; and hungry fellows walked to and fro trying to stand the intense agony of waiting for the summons.
"Joe, I'd like to have you step over here a minute!"
Supper had been eaten amid the best of feeling. The assembled scouts forgot for the time being all their troubles. Lame feet failed to ache, and tired knees had all the buoyancy of youth again.
The mysterious mountain towered above them, seeming to invite a further and closer acquaintance. Beside the camp ran the brawling stream, and the noise of its rushing water would either lull the tired lads to sleep, or else keep them from doing so. Trees overhung the numerous tents; and on the whole the camp was a pretty sight, as many a lad declared in his log of the trip.
When Joe heard Paul say the few words that begin this chapter he gave a sudden start, and looked up quickly. But the patrol leader and acting scoutmaster had already turned away, and was walking beyond the confines of the camp.
After hesitating a moment Joe scrambled to his feet, and followed his chief. He acted asthough he more than half suspected just what it was Paul wanted to say to him; for several times Joe gritted his teeth, and shook his head in a way he had; for he was known to be very stubborn sometimes.
He found Paul on the bank of the Bushkill. He had seated himself on a convenient rock, and was waiting. The moon drifted in through openings among the trees, and falling on the water made it look like silver; with frosting here and there, where the foam splashed up around the rocks lying in the bed of the stream.
"What d'ye want, Paul?" asked Joe, as he came up.
The noise of the moving water was such that he had to elevate his voice more than a little in order to be heard distinctly.
"Sit down here, Joe, please," remarked Paul, pleasantly. "I wanted to have a little talk with you on the side, where none of the boys could hear, that's all."
"About what?" asked the other, weakly.
"Well, perhaps it's none of my business; but since I chanced to be one of those with you the night we found your father, and heard about his losing that little tin box with those valuable papers, I thought perhaps you might be willing to take me into your confidence, Joe. I want to help you all I can. You believe that, don't you?"
Joe moved uneasily. He had accepted the invitation to sit down, but his manner was not at all confidential.
"Why, of course I do, Paul," Joe presently observed, slowly, "I know you're always ready to help any fellow who gets in trouble. There ain't a better friend in the whole troop than you are to everybody. But what's got you now? Have I been a doin' anything I hadn't ought to?"
"You know it isn't that, Joe. I wanted to speak to you about that tin box your father said was taken from him that night."
"Oh, was that it?" remarked Joe, faintly, and catching his breath.
"You believe that I'd like to help get it back for him, don't you?" demanded the young patrol leader.
"I remember hearing you say you'd be glad to have a hand in recoverin' it; and I guess you meant it every time, Paul," came the reply.
"Well," Paul continued, "perhaps the chance may come to me up here on Rattlesnake Mountain, Joe. It would be queer now, wouldn't it, if, in coming up to this country we just happened to land on the chap who was in your father's store that night, and put out the lamp after he had picked up that little old tin box, eh?"
Joe seemed to have some difficulty in answering.He appeared to be swallowing a lump in his throat as though it threatened to choke him.
"Why, yes," he presently managed to mutter, "that would be funny now, for a fact. My dad'd like mighty well to get that stuff back, Paul, sure he would."
"Perhaps then you wouldn't mind telling me who that man was, Joe," remarked Paul, quietly.
"What man?" queried Joe, though his voice betrayed the fact that he knew only too well what his friend was driving at.
"I chanced to see you when that party drove past our noon camp," said Paul, softly. "You recognized him, Joe, I am sure you did; and you showed every sign of being both startled and alarmed."
"Huh! well," Joe stammered, "you see it did give me a sorter start, because he looked like somebody I knew was at the other side of the world right then. I reckon you'd feel upset like, Paul, if you thought you saw a ghost."
"Perhaps I would," replied the patrol leader, quickly; "but you immediately knew that it wasn't a ghost. Still, it has been bothering you all the afternoon, Joe."
"Say, what makes you think that?"
"I've watched you when you didn't think anybody was looking," Paul went on. "I've seen you shake your head and talk to yourself as if youmight be trying to believe something your common sense told you couldn't be so. How about it, Joe?"
"Oh! I'm willing to admit I've been mixed up about that thing, and bad too," confessed Joe, as if brought to bay; "but I ain't goin' to say anything about it, not just yet anyhow. I must see dad first, and get his opinion."
"Well, I don't want to force you, Joe, against your will. If you think it best to keep your little secret, do it; but perhaps later on you may be changing your mind. If we just happened to meet up with that gentleman while we knocked around old Rattlesnake Mountain, perhaps you'd be glad to get back that tin box again."
"Sure I would, Paul. Please don't think I'm not wantin' to trust you, because I hold back. I want to think it all over by myself to-night. Perhaps in the mornin' I might tell you about it."
"Then I won't say anything more now, Joe. Only believe that I'm ready to do everything I can to help you. That man came all the way up here."
"How d'ye know that?"
"Why, even a tenderfoot could tell that much," observed the patrol leader, calmly; "his horse left marks all the way. If you went out on the road now, and lit a match, you'd see the print of shod hoofs, and the lines made by the wheels. Soyou see, Joe, it wouldn't be so strange if wedidhappen to run across him some fine day."
"Oh! I wonder what I ought to do? What would dad say if he knew?" and muttering half to himself in this way, Joe wandered back to his seat beside the big fire that was making all outdoors look bright with color and warmth.
Paul was more mystified than ever. Who could that man be, and why should poor Joe feel so badly over having set eyes on him? If he were an ordinary person, and suspicion pointed his way, one would think that the son of the feed-man would welcome his detention, which might result in the finding of the stolen property.
But on the contrary Joe seemed to be dreadfully alarmed over something.
"Oh! well," Paul finally said to himself as he left the rock and turned to go back to the camp; "it may be a family secret of some sort, and I have no business to be poking into it. I'll just keep my hands off, and wait for Joe to speak, if he cares to. Besides, I've got plenty of other things to keep me hustling."
He happened to glance up at the frowning mountain while walking away from the river bank. Suddenly there flashed a little light away up yonder. Once, twice it seemed to flash up, and then was gone.
"Now, I wonder what that could be?" said a voice close beside him.
"Why, hello, Wallace, is that you?" laughed Paul; "and I guess you must have made the same discovery I did?"
"Meaning that queer little light up there, eh, Paul?" remarked the other, who had been walking about uneasily, and just chanced to face upward at the time the double flash came.
"Yes. I wonder what it was," Paul went on, thoughtfully. "I happen to know that Ted and his bunch are ahead of us somewhere, and that might have been a signal to fellows who were left down here to do something to upset our camp."
"Now, do you know, Paul," Wallace went on; "I hadn't thought of that. I'll tell you what it looked like to me—some man lighting his pipe. You saw the light go up and down; that was when he puffed. But it was too far away to see any face."
Paul, remembering the man who had gone up the side of the mountain with that rig, wondered very much whether Wallace could be right, and if the unknown was even then looking down upon them from that height.
This made him turn his thoughts back to the noon camp, and try to remember whether the man in the buggy had shown that he recognized Joeat the time the boy so suddenly sprang to his feet with a cry.
At any rate the unknown had whipped up his horse, and seemed in a great hurry to depart from the spot.
That night the Banner Boy Scouts were just as merry as before. A banjo had been brought along, and to the plunkety-plunk of its tuneful music they sang every popular song known among Stanhope's rising generation.
"I just don't exactly like the looks of the sky," remarked Wallace, as the time for sounding taps drew near.
He had found Paul examining the ropes of the various tents as though curious to see how well they had been secured.
"That's why I'm overhauling these tent pins and ropes," laughed the other, as he rose up. "The clouds have rolled up, and it feels as if we might have a bit of a Summer storm. Perhaps it would be a good thing for the boys to have an experience like that, if only our supplies can be kept dry."
When they finally retired, the sky seemed to have cleared again. Paul set his guards and took his place in his tent, for his turn would not come until later.
He was tired and soon fell into a heavy sleep.Jack was on duty, and could be depended on to keep a good watch.
Paul was aroused from slumber by loud cries. Sitting hurriedly up he found the tent wabbling to and fro in a violent manner, while the air seemed full of the most alarming sounds. He crawled out without wasting a minute, and shouted aloud to make the balance of the boys get busy before everything was swept away by the violence of the gale.
"Hold 'em! hold 'em!" whooped William, as he found himself mixed up in the canvas of the tent which had fallen in a heap; for evidently he was of the opinion that all this racket must be caused by those vindictive workers of evil, Ted Slavin and his crowd.
"Look to your tent pins, fellows!" shouted Paul, lustily, as he hurried around to lend what assistance lay in his power.
He had little fear about his own tent, understanding just how it had been put up. But all of the scouts were not so well versed in the little tricks known to those who spend much time under canvas; and there was a chance that others would share the sad fate that had already befallen poor William.
Then there was a great scurrying to and fro. As the storm broke the boys shuddered and held on to the ropes for dear life, regardless of the fact that they were clad only in pajamas, which were soon rain soaked.
"Never mind that little thing, fellows," sang out the care-free Bobolink; "because you know we can get plenty of dry clothes after she's over; but if you let the tents blow away, where, oh! where do we come in? Hold hard, everybody; here comes another bluff at us. Wow! get a grip on my legs, will you? I'm agoin' to fly, that's what!"
But some of his mates held on doggedly, and Bobolink consented to remain on earth a while longer. As long as it lasted it was one of the greatest short storms most of the scouts could remember ever experiencing. But then, up to now, they had been pretty much in the habit of viewing such convulsions of nature from the shelter of a snug harbor in the shape of a home window; and things looked vastly different when the same Summer gale was met, with tents threatening to carry away, and the trees groaning in the furious wind.
"She's over!" cried Jack, at last, when the storm seemed to come to a halt almost as suddenly as it had broken.
No one was sorry. Repairs were quickly undertaken, after the boys had donned some dry clothes; for the air was chilly after the rain, and being soaked to the skin they found themselves shivering.
William had managed to crawl out from underhis tent, with the help of others. He had several bumps to prove what a close call it had been. The others could not lose a chance to poke fun at him; for it was not often the opportunity came when the fun-maker of the troop could be caught napping.
"Next time, get a move on you, old slow poke!" one advised, when William ventured to complain that it was mean in their deserting him to his fate.
"Yes, Mr. Tortoise, you'll have to learn how to crawl better than that, if you expect to stay with this fast crowd," declared Tom Betts.
"But every time I started to get out," William declared, ruefully, "somebody would stick his foot in my face, and climb all over me. Then the blessed thing dropped flat, and left me swimming all alone. Of course I thought it was some more of Ted's fine sport, and I hoped you chaps were flagging 'em. After that the water came in on me. Ugh!"
"What did you think then, old molasses in Winter?" asked Bobolink; shaking the last of the water out of his precious bugle, and carefully wiping its brass mouthpiece with his handkerchief.
"Why," said William, grinning, "at first I thought the river had overflowed its banks, and was going to carry me all the way down to Stanhope. Then I heard the wind and the thunder,when it struck me there was something of a storm. So I just laid still; for I knew you fellows wouldn't want me bothering around while you worked like fun to hold the rest of the tents from going by the board."
"Listen to him, would you, Paul?" exclaimed one of the others. "He knew all along we were hard pushed to hold out, and yet he just snuggled there, and wouldn't give a helping hand. What kind of a scout are you, anyway, William?"
"Well," returned the accused one, in his drawling way, "I didn't want to cut a hole in the canvas, you see; and I couldn't get out any other way. Come to think of it, I don't generally carry my knife around in my pajamas, like some fellows do bugles, and such trash."
"Rats!" flashed back Bobolink, disdainfully, "you're just jealous of my noble calling, that's all."
"He's always calling, ain't he, fellows?" asked William. "I expect to see him sit up in his sleep some night, and scare us half out of our lives by tooting away to beat the band. I'm going to get up a petition that the old horn be muzzled every night before we go to our little beds on the hemlock browse."
A fire was, after some little trouble, started. Paul had been wise enough to keep some fine kindling in his tent for just such an emergency.Even had it been otherwise he would have known just how to get at the heart of a dead tree, which would yield the necessary dry wood to make a beginning. Such hunter's tricks were well known to Paul, likewise to Wallace; and before this tour came to an end most of the others would have picked up scores of such bits of knowledge, likely to be of use to them whenever they chanced to be in the great woods.
The sky was clear again long before the last boy had concluded that it was safe to crawl into his tent once more, and try to sleep.
And whoever happened to be on guard, kept the fire going throughout the remainder of that eventful night.
No further adventure broke upon their heads, and in good time dawn appeared in the eastern sky. There was much merriment as the boys went for a morning dip in the waters of the Bushkill. Many jokes were made about the new order of things in camp that necessitated a shower-bath at midnight.
"Be careful, fellows," Paul admonished, as he saw that most of the scouts were bent on trying the water of the rapid little stream. "There's a bad current here, and if it gets hold of you grab a rock and yell. To be dashed down there wouldn't be the nicest thing going."
Jack agreed to keep an eye on the clump, forPaul had duties in camp just then. He expected to take a dip himself a little later on.
Hardly had ten minutes passed before he heard a loud series of shouts.
"Hold hard, Tom! Make a chain there, you fellows, and get him before he lets go! Hurry up, can't you?"
It was Jack Stormways shouting these words. Paul knew instantly that some one must have been caught by the current, and was in danger of being dragged along down the stream to where it dashed wildly against the rocks.
The young patrol leader lost not an instant. Snatching up a rope that happened to lie handy, he rushed for the bank of the river.
Instinct caused him to head for a point below where Jack was standing, trying to reach some object with a long pole he handled awkwardly. Even in that thrilling moment Paul could think, and was able to understand that the ever flowing current must sweep any helpless swimmer past Jack's position in quick order.
As he ran Paul was trying to fashion a loop in the end of the rope. Had he not been perfectly calm he could never have succeeded in doing this difficult feat; but when he reached the bank he had managed to accomplish it.
What he saw was a tumble of water, which was almost covered with foam. Somewhere inthis poor Tom Betts must be floating, churned back and forth by the suction of the current that was striving to escape from the whirl.
Jack had evidently lost sight of the drowning lad completely, for he was even then running toward Paul, his face as white as chalk.
There! Paul had just a fleeting glimpse of the boy in the foamy water. He had thrust one arm up rather feebly, as though almost gone. Perhaps his head had come in contact with a rock while he was swimming, and this had dazed him; for ordinarily Tom Betts was a clever swimmer.
Paul waited for no more. He was down the bank like a flash, and wading into the water, regardless of clothes. What did it matter about his getting wet, when a precious human life was in peril.
Again he caught a glimpse of the boy's arm amid all that spud and foam. But the first attempt to throw the loop of his rope over it resulted in failure.
Paul instantly changed his tactics. Reversing the coil, he cast the loop over a friendly stump that chanced to be at hand; then, gripping the rope in his hand, he boldly cast himself into the midst of that whirl of froth and spinning water.
Fortune was kind, for almost immediately he came in contact with the unconscious lad, and wasable to throw an arm about him. The fierce stream tried in vain to drag him down into other basins below; but Paul had his hand twisted in the coils of that rope, and would not let go.
"Hold on, Paul; we'll pull you in!" shouted Jack on the bank, as he clutched the lifeline and began to exert his full strength.
"Hurrah! Paul's got him! It's all right!" whooped others, as they lent a hand.
Of course Paul was quickly dragged into shallow water, where willing hands relieved him of his burden. Tom looked dreadful, being deathly white, and very limp. But Paul could not believe the boy had been under the water long enough to be drowned.
Immediately he had the others bring the senseless boy up to the camp, where he was placed on his chest. Kneeling down, with one leg on either side, Paul placed his palms on Tom's back just where the small ribs could be felt. Then by leaning forward, and pressing downward, he forced the air and water from the lungs of the patient; relaxing the movement allowed air to creep in a little, when the operation was repeated time and time again.
Sometimes it may take an hour to make this artificial respiration successful; so that it is not wise to desist until every hope is gone. Many aperson has been saved after it seemed next to a miracle that life might be restored.
With Tom it was not a difficult problem. He had been stunned by the blow received in his contact with the rock, and hence little water had entered his lungs.
In five minutes he was showing signs of coming to; his arms, extended above his head while this process of pumping air into him was being conducted, twitched and moved; then he groaned, and finally made a move as if he wanted to get up.
Ten minutes after being taken from the water he was sitting up, and asking what all the fuss was about.
Tom afterwards confessed to a dim recollection of feeling something hitting him a dull blow in the head; after that he knew nothing more until he opened his eyes to see his mates clustered around, and hear them give lusty cheers.
But he heard how Paul had acted so wisely, and while Tom was a fellow not much given to words, at the first opportunity he thanked his friend with tears in his eyes; for he was thinking of a fond mother at home, and what a blow she must have received had he been drowned.
The boys cared little about indulging themselves in any more bathing in that treacherous portion of the fast-running Bushkill. Down around Stanhope they understood its various moods; but up in this Rattlesnake Mountain district it was quite a different thing.
Breakfast appealed more to them, and they went at it with a will. Tom was exempt from any menial labor on that morning. Warmly dressed, and placed close to the roaring fire, he watched his chums work, and thought what a splendid thing it was he had not been alone at the time the accident happened.
And Paul was more than glad it turned out so well. Had a tragedy come to pass, their joyous outing must have met with a sudden halt, and the return journey to Stanhope would have been a sad one indeed.
"What's the programme for to-day?" asked Jack, as they all sat around, eating the fine breakfast the patrol cooks had served.
"Another hike, and this time up the mountain," returned Paul. "It will be our last for a while, at least, for when we get settled in another camp I hope to stay there until our scoutmaster arrives."
"And when do you look for Mr. Gordon, Paul?" queried Wallace, who seemed to have lost his appetite after seeing how near a companion had come to a terrible death.
"Any hour after this. He said he would use my wheel in coming up here, so as to make better time. I'll be glad when he comes," and Paul gave a sigh as he glanced around at the score ofboyish faces turned toward him; to let his gaze rest finally on that of genial Tom Betts, whom he had known pretty much all his life.
Nor indeed could Paul be blamed for wishing to pass the responsibility on to broader shoulders, more capable of bearing it. He was only a boy, and it seemed to him that since he had been placed in charge of this expedition, with all its attendant cares and trials, his spirit had been almost crushed.
But the camp was broken, and with much laughter the scouts began to climb the side of mysterious old Rattlesnake Mountain, of course Paul managed to forget most of his troubles, and his merriment rang out as loud as that of any other.
So, boosting and pulling at old Dobbin, they made the ascent by slow degrees, and by noon had reached a point that afforded them a grand view of the country away off toward the south, the east and the west; but it was toward the first named region that many a wishful look was given, for did not Stanhope lie yonder—and home?
"We'll never get that old horse any higher up than this, Paul," said Jud Elderkin.
The scouts were sitting there with that fine panorama spread out before them, and eating a sort of pick-up lunch. At breakfast time enough food had been prepared to carry them along for another meal. After that Paul had promised that they would very likely be in a permanent camp, and might expect to have decent fare right along.
"Fact of the matter is, Jud," replied the leader of the expedition, "we don't need to, fortunately."
"What's that, Paul; not going to camp right here, I hope?" questioned the scout leader of the second patrol.
Jud shot a swift look across the country down below, and Paul smiled when he saw the direction of the glance.
"I understand what you mean," he remarked, immediately. "You imagine that if we stayedhere any length of time some of the tenderfeet would be running away."
"Oh! well," Jud went on to say, "what would be the use of tantalizing the poor chaps? Hear 'em disputing right now whether that shining thing they see far away in the distance is the brass hand on the top of the church steeple in Stanhope, or the wind vane on the court house cupola? Anyhow, it stands for Stanhope; and if they were where they could stare out yonder by the hour some of 'em would skip before another night, I'm afraid."
"And you're just right, old fellow," Paul remarked. "I'm glad you noticed that sign, for we'd hate to have any desertions, now that we've made such a great start. But your other guess was away off. I haven't the slightest idea of holding over here."
"Then the road——" began Jud.
"Makes a bend just beyond," Paul broke in with, "and goes no further up that way. This is the last peep any of us are likely to have of far-away Stanhope till we come out again on the way home."
"That's all right, then. Now that you mention it, I can see how the road does take a turn a little way along. What do you suppose we're apt to strike there, Paul? I'm more than anxious to get wise."
But the acting scoutmaster only shrugged his shoulders.
"You really don't know, then?" continued Jud.
"Only what I've heard. Some say there's a fine lake back here a few miles. And that's what I'm hoping to strike, for a spot to camp," returned Paul.
"Well, I've heard that same thing," said Jud, slowly, "but never more than half believed it. Just as like as not we'll find it only a duck pond. But a camp always seems more like the real thing if it's only near water."
"I always thought so," Paul admitted, "and I've been in a few dandy camps in my time. My people have gone up in Maine every Summer for a long while, you know. But this year they are going to stay home for a change. Father hates to turn over his practice to any one else; and to tell the truth I said I wanted to be right here."
"Bully for you, Paul. We all feel that we owe you a lot for the way you've stuck to us through thick and thin. We'd never have won that banner there if——"
But Paul would not listen.
"Stow that sort of talk, Jud!" he exclaimed. "I've done my best, but it wasn't any more than lots of the other fellows could do. If we'd gotten hold of Mr. Gordon in time he'd have madea better troop than we were. He knows a heap along many lines."
"Yes," remarked Jud, with a nod, "by theory, but I just bet you if it came down to practice you could beat him out every time. But what was it I saw you doing at our last camp, just before we pulled up stakes?"
"I was leaving a letter for Mr. Gordon when he came along," replied Paul, with a mysterious smile.
"What sort of a letter now, I'd like to know? Seemed to me you were marking on a piece of birch bark, which you stuck on a stick close to where our fire had been. And Paul," with a grin, "I had the curiosity to take a sly look at the same as I passed by."
"Yes. What did you see?" asked the patrol leader, quietly.
"Why, it looked to me like you'd gone back some years, and started drawing funny animals, and such things," replied Jud.
"Just what they were, old fellow," said Paul, confidentially; "but when our scoutmaster takes one of these slips of bark up, he'll read what I've marked on it just as you would a letter. He and I have become deeply interested in the old method of Indian picture writing, you see. Signs stand for words with them. A whole story can be made in a dozen characters or groups."
"Oh! I remember something about that I read once," remarked Jud, with a look of deep interest; "and if you don't mind I wish you'd give me a few pointers about that sign business, some time. I'd like to know, the worst kind."
"Oh! no trouble about that. All you have to do is to use your head a little, and make your signs plain enough so that they can be understood. Now, I'm going to leave a letter for Mr. Gordon right here. Watch how I do it," and Paul picked up a good-sized bit of clear bark he had evidently prepared for the purpose.
"You see," he began, "I use a lead pencil because it's more convenient, that's all. If I didn't have it, I'd just take a black brand from the fire; or even scratch the characters on the smooth bark. And first of all to tell him that twenty-one white soldier boys camped here."
He rapidly drew just that number of rude figures, diminutive enough to be crowded around what was plainly a spread out luncheon. They had hats on their heads, and a flag was to be seen in the picture. A wagon and a horse occupied one corner.
"Now," Paul went on, "you see that I've indicated these fellows spent a brief time here. He will understand that it was noon from the round sun I've drawndirectly above the cluster. To show that they are eating I have made a coffee pot in the hand of one, though that was hardly the truth, for we've had none this time. But I guess it's always allowable to stretch thingsjust a littlein these picture stories. They were white because they all wear hats. Do you get it, Jud?"
"Easy as falling off a log. Why, I could read that myself, if I was lost and happened to fall into this place," replied Jud, positively.
"Sure you could," laughed Paul. "That's the object of this picture writing; to make it so clear that anybody would know. We're not trying to puzzle people now. This isn't what you'd call a cryptogram; not much. It's the primer of writing. A kid could tell what it all stood for. And these Indians are just like kids, you see."
"Well, go on," pleaded the leader of the second patrol, "I'm dead stuck on this thing, for I can see what lots of fun we will have with it up in the woods. How are you going to tell Mr. Gordon that we hiked out of here, and headed due west from this point?"
"Oh!" answered Paul, readily enough, "I might use just the letter W; but you see that wouldn't do for an Indian, who doesn't know what it means. To him west means the setting sun, just as east is signified by its rising, and noon by an overhead disc. So suppose I draw a rude hand, with the finger pointing toward a sun thatis half down behind a line? Wouldn't that be apt to tell him we went west from here?"
"Why, dead sure. He couldn't mistake that. The level line I take it is meant for the horizon?" Jud continued, deeply impressed by the simplicity of this method of communicating between separated friends.
"Yes. Well, now he knows which way we've gone. We don't know ourselves just how far we expect to hike this afternoon. It may be only a mile, and it may be two. But we want to tell him that we mean to go into camp, and that the setting sun will find us with our tents up, and a fire burning."
Paul, while speaking, started to once more make some marks on the balance of the smooth bark, which he had himself peeled from a nearby birch.
"There," he presently declared, holding the pad up, "you see how I've made the camp. The tents are set, supper cooking, and just twenty-one little marks tell that so many soldiers are around the fire, all but three who stand guard. And in beyond, the sun is going down, almost out of sight in fact. No trouble about such a simple story, eh, Jud?"
"It's as plain as a book, plainer than most I've ever read. No getting mixed up in such a story.But I'm wondering what that big circle close to the camp means?" and Jud pointed as he spoke.
"Oh! I'm glad you spoke. Mr. Gordon himself might well wonder what that was, for I left out the most important part. Now watch, and tell me if you can hit it," with which remark Paul made several tiny dashes with his pencil.
Jud gave an exclamation of delight.
"Boats—real Injun bark canoes, as sure as you live!" he observed.
"And boats don't run on dry land as a rule, do they, Jud?" Paul went on.
"Well, not so you could notice. That circle then, must be our lake, or pond, we ain't so sure which, yet. The story is now complete, Paul from start to finish. But sometimes it must be hard to tell things that happened."
"That's where the fun comes in," Paul continued; "lots of happenings make a fellow sit up and take notice, when he tries to picture them so plainly that the other can read it right off the reel. I had a tough nut to crack this morning."
"About that little adventure of Tom Betts in the river," interrupted Jud. "Tell me how you did it. A crooked little mark would show the river; but I'm blessed if I can see how you made out the drowning act, and the rescue."
"I'll tell you how I did it," Paul went on; "and when Mr. Gordon comes we'll find out if he understood my letter, or thought it meant something else. I'm only a beginner in this business, you know, and expect to improve, for I see where we can have lots of fun out of it."
"But the letter?" said Jud, impatiently.
"In the river I had several of the boy scouts bathing. All had their hands down but one, whose arms were up over his head. That told of his being in danger. Then on the bank I showed a ring around two, one on the ground. Just beyond these, two were moving off, arm in arm. That ought to tell him that the drowned boy recovered. And when the company formed to go on the road I wasveryparticular to have the exact twenty-one in line. How's that?"
"Great," cried Jud, excitedly; "you've got me head over ears in this picture writing business, and I'm going to study it up. There's a book home that has a lot about it. Me to swallow the same when we get back. And while we're up here I'm going to get you and our scoutmaster to teach me what you know."
"All right," laughed Paul, getting up. "Now notice that I stick this where he will be sure to see it. And perhaps we'd better be on the hike once more, because we don't know what we've got ahead of us. Number Three, give the call to break camp!"