“Whether that’s so or not,” said the trembling Horace, “I feel that I’ve learned a lesson. I own up that I’m terribly afraid of lightning; but after this I’m going to face it, even if I have to lie out in the storm, rather than take chances.”
It became difficult to carry on any sort of conversation, what with all the racket around them. The wind blew, the rain fell in sheets, and the thunder boomed so continuously that one deep-toned roll hardly died away before there would come another crash that made everybody start.
Still they were a thankful lot of boys as they lay under the ledges and counted the minutes creep past.
“We’ve managed to keep our jackets tolerably dry after all,” announced Josh, at a time when there happened to be a little slackening of the gale; “and that’s what everybody couldn’t have done under the same conditions.”
“Well, I should say not,” another scout declared; “I know lots of fellows who think themselves extra smart around town, and yet put them up here and they’d either have been knocked out hiding under a tree that was struck, or else soaked through to the skin.”
“It takes scouts to figure things out when the supreme test comes,” said Josh.
“Yes,somescouts,” added Felix, drily; as much as to tell Josh not to plume himself too highly, because this was not his bright thought.
A more terrific peal of thunder than any they had yet heard except that one outburst, stopped their talking for a brief time.
“I really believe the old storm is coming back to try it all over again!” cried Billy Button, in dismay.
“They often seem to do that,” remarked another boy. “That has puzzled me more’n I can tell. What’s the explanation, Mr. Witherspoon?”
“Well, as near as I can say,” replied the scout master, “it’s something like this. Most storms have a regular rotary movement as well as their forward drift. On that account a hurricane at sea has a core or center, where there is almost a dead clam.”
“Yes, I’ve read about that,” interrupted Josh. “Sea captains always mention it when they’ve found themselves in the worst of a big blow. Itslackens up, and then comes on again worse than ever.”
“But always from exactly the opposite quarter,” the scout master continued.
“You can see how this is, for the wind coming from the east up to the time the core of the gale strikes them, is from the west after the center has passed by. We may be about to get the other side of this little storm now.”
“Listen to it roaring, up on the mountain?” cried Horace.
“I wonder what those other fellows are doing about now?” Josh was heard to say, in a speculative way.
“Of course you mean Tony Pollock and his crowd,” observed Tom. “Unless they’ve been as lucky as we were they’re feeling pretty damp ground this time. Still Tony is a shrewd fellow, and may have discovered some sort of shelter before the downpour came.”
“I hope so,” Horace went on to say, for he was not at all cruel by disposition; “because I wouldn’t want a dog to be out in this blow, much less boys I’ve known all my life, even if they have been an ugly lot.”
There was a short interval of violent downpour. Then all at once the storm again slackened, and soon the rain ceased.
Horace had been whispering to Tom, and thepair of them now started to crawl out from under the shelter.
“Where are you going, Tom?” asked Josh, wondering what the strange move meant.
“Just mean to take a little walk over here,” was the reply; “we’ll be back in a few minutes. Horace is curious to see if it was the big oak that was struck.”
“I’ll go along, if you don’t object,” said the always ready Josh.
“Me too,” called out a second scout.
Accordingly several of them followed Tom and Horace out from under the ledges. There were at least six in the group that hurried along toward the spot where the splendid oak had been noticed an hour before.
They were compelled to pick their way along, for little streams of water flowed in almost every direction; besides, the trees were shedding miniature Niagaras that would be very unpleasant if received in the back of the neck by any one passing underneath.
In this fashion they neared the place. Every boy was keenly on the lookout.
“Why, I don’t see anything at all of the tree, and yet it certainly stood high above those smaller ones over there!” exclaimed Horace, presently, with a curious little quiver of awe in his voice.
Ten seconds later they had advanced farenough to pass the barrier formed by those lesser forest trees. Then the entire group of scouts came to a sudden stop and simply stared. Horace even rubbed his eyes as if he half believed he might be dreaming.
The big oak was gone!
Where it had stood they saw a shattered trunk not more than twenty feet high. Upon the ground in every direction lay torn and twisted limbs and smaller branches, just as they had been violently hurled when that terrible electric bolt struck with such amazing force.
“Whew!” gasped Josh, “there’s an object lesson for you, Horace!”
“It’s the same for each one of us,” added Tom, gravely; “and for every scout who ever hears of it.”
“Supposing we had taken refuge under that fine old oak,” suggested Felix, with a shrug of his shoulders; “not one of us would have ever known what hit him.”
“I’ve seen all I want to, Tom; let us go back,” said Horace, who looked rather white by now. “Besides, I think it’s going to pour down again shortly.”
“That’s right,” added another scout; “you can hear it coming over there. Everybody scoot for the home base.”
They lost no time in retracing their steps, andjust managed to reach the friendly shelter of the ledges when the rain did come down, if anything harder than ever.
“There’ll be a big boom in the river after this!” remarked Felix, when the rain had been falling in a deluge for ten minutes.
“I think it must be next door to what they call a cloud burst; wouldn’t you say so, Mr. Witherspoon?” asked another boy.
“It seems like it,” he was told by the scout master. “Meantime we ought to be very thankful we’re so well provided for. No danger of being floated away this far up on the mountain. But the rain is going to stop presently.”
“Getting softer already!” announced the watchful Josh.
“I didn’t have any chance to ask you about the big oak?” Mr. Witherspoon continued.
“There isn’t any,” remarked Felix; “only a wreck that would make you hold your breath and rub your eyes.”
“Then it was struck by that terrible bolt, was it?” asked the scout master.
“Smashed, into flinders,” replied Josh. “You never in all your life saw such a wreck, sir.”
“We’ll all take a glance at it before we leave this place,” the leader of the hiking troop told them. “But from the way things look there’s a good chance we may think it best to put in thenight right here, where we can be sure of a dry place for sleeping.”
“That strikes me as a good idea, sir,” said Tom, promptly, for he had been considering proposing that very plan himself, though of course he did not see fit to say so now.
“All I hope is that the river doesn’t sweep away a part of Lenox,” one of the boys was heard to say. “You remember that years ago, before any of us can remember, they had a bad flood, and some lives were lost.”
“Oh yes, but that was in the spring,” explained Josh, “when the heavy snows melted, and what with ten days of rain the ground couldn’t take up any more water. It’s a whole lot different in June. Besides, we’ve been having it pretty hot and dry lately, remember, and the earth can drink up a lot of water.”
“Still, you never can tell what a flood will do,” George was heard to say; but as they all understood his way of looking at the worst side of things none of the other boys took much stock in his gloomy predictions.
“We must hustle to find some dry wood, so as to cook our supper, and keep warm afterwards,” Felix told them.
“Leave us alone to do that,” Josh announced. “No matter how hard it has been raining you can always get plenty of dry stuff out of the heart ofa stump or a log. And thank goodness we brought an ax along with us.”
“Say, did you feel anything then?” called out one of the other boys. “Seemed to me the rocks might be trembling as they did when it thundered extra loud. There it goes again! Get that, fellows?”
They certainly did, and a thrill of wonder and sudden anxiety passed over them when the trembling sensation became even more pronounced. Then they realized that a strange rumbling sound had arisen. It came from further up the mountain, and yet drew rapidly closer, increasing in intensity, until it began to assume the proportions of a terrible roaring, while the rocks vibrated in a sickening way.
“Oh! it must be an earthquake!” shrilled one scout, in alarm.
“Lie still, everybody!” shouted Mr. Witherspoon; “don’t think of crawling out. It’s a landslide coming down the side of the mountain!”
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For several minutes the scouts lay there and fairly held their breath in the grip of that sudden fear that had come upon them. As the rumbling noise and the sickening sensation of the rock trembling under them passed away they regained in some degree their former confidence.
“The worst is over, I think,” said Mr. Witherspoon; “but we’ll stay where we are a while longer.”
Content to abide by his judgment, and glad that they had escaped being caught in that avalanche of earth and rocks, the boys kept quiet until finally, as there was no repetition of the landslide, they were allowed to issue forth.
Investigation showed them where the slip had occurred. Some fault in the formation of the mountain side had allowed it to happen, the conditions being just right.
Later on the rest of the scouts went over to view the wrecked oak, bringing back some of the splinters of wood to use in making the fire they expected to have going presently.
Considering the two narrow escapes they had passed through recently, one from lightning and the other from the avalanche, the boys all felt that they had reason to be thankful.
“You’ll have some remarkable things to set down in that log book of yours for this particular day, Tom,” said the scout master; “and I think you can do the subject justice. I hope to read an account of this trip in print one of these days.”
“Oh! there’s a small chance of my account taking the first prize, I’m afraid Mr. Witherspoon,” laughed the leader of the Black Bear Patrol; “I imagine there’ll be scores of competitors in the race, and plenty of them can write things just as well as I can, perhaps even better.”
“Yes,” remarked Josh, “but don’t forget that every account of an outing trip has to be absolutely true. No wonderful imaginary stories will be allowed in the competition, the rules said.”
“Yes, that’s just what they did state,” added Felix; “you’ve got to have things authenticated—wasn’t that the word the paper used?”
“Attested to in due form by the scout master who accompanied the troop,” Mr. Witherspoon explained, smiling; “and in this case I can do that with an easy conscience.”
“And if things keep going as they have been lately,” declared another boy, “there never wasand never can be a trip so crowded with interesting happenings as this same hike of Lenox Troop over Big Bear Mountain.”
The fire was made without any particular trouble, just as Josh and some of the others had predicted. The boys knew how to get dry fuel out of the heart of a stump, and once the fire was roaring it hardly mattered what kind of wood was used, since the heat quickly dried it out.
Then supper was cooked as usual, only on this occasion they dispensed with some of the conditions that were not absolutely necessary, such as having two separate fires.
On the whole they managed to get on, and every one admitted he could dispose of no more when finally the meal was concluded.
Later on the boys sat around, and while most of them compared notes regarding their experiences during the exciting day just closed, others proceeded to attend to certain duties they did not wish to postpone any longer.
As for Tom Chesney, it was an aim with him to write out his account of daily events while they were still fresh in his mind. He was afraid many of the little details might be forgotten if he delayed; and in the end those were what would give most of the charm to the narrative of the scout doings.
The storm had passed on, and above themthey saw the stars peeping out once more. Long into the night the steady drip of water could be heard, telling of numerous little rivulets that still ran down the side of Big Bear Mountain, though by morning most of these would have dried up.
They slept under the friendly ledges. It was, after all was said, a pretty “rocky” bed, as Josh termed it; but since the ground outside was so well soaked, and there was always more or less peril in the shape of another landslide, none of the boys complained, or expressed his feelings in more than sundry grunts.
With the coming of morning the strange camp was astir, and one by one the boys painfully crawled out, to try to get some of the stiffness from their limbs by jumping around and “skylarking.”
About nine o’clock the hike was resumed Mr. Witherspoon did not think it advisable to go on up the mountain any further after that avalanche; he believed they would have just as good a time passing around the base, and in the end making a complete circuit of the high elevation.
The day turned out to be a delightful one after the storm. It seemed as though the air had been purified, and even in the middle of the day it was not unpleasantly warm.
“We ought to make that little lake by the afternoon, oughtn’t we, Tom?” the scout masterasked, as he plodded along at the side of the patrol leader.
Another consultation of the map Tom carried followed, and it was decided that they must be within a half a mile of the water. Ten minutes later Josh declared he had caught a glimpse of the sun shining on dancing wavelets; and shortly afterwards a sudden turn brought them in full view of the pond.
It was hardly more than that, covering perhaps ten acres; but the boys declared they had never set eyes on a prettier sight as they arrived on the near shore, and proceeded to make a camp there.
“If we only had a canoe up here what a great time we’d have fishing,” said Josh, who was particularly fond of casting a fly for a trout or bass, and scorned to use the humble angleworm, as ordinary fishermen do.
“What’s the matter with taking a log and straddling the same?” asked Tom. “Three of us could manage it, one to troll with a spoon, another to cast near the shore and the third to paddle the log.”
“Let’s try that in the morning,” suggested Josh, eagerly; “it’s too late in the day to have any great luck now. But I like the looks of that pond—and I think we might get a good string of fish from it, if the wind’s right.”
That night their fire glowed upon the borderof the water. It was a new experience, and the boys, seeing Tom busily engaged in writing, told him to do full justice to the theme, for it deserved to be recorded exactly in the way they saw it.
It was a comfortable night they spent by the pond, in sharp contrast to the preceding one when flattened out under the rocky ledges. Every one got a good sound night’s sleep, so that when morning came they were in prime condition for the work of the day.
“We’ll stay here to-day and not go on for another twenty-four hours,” decided the scout master, as they sat around eating breakfast.
“For one I’m glad to hear that,” said Felix; “I can hike as well as the next fellow; but just the same when I’m off for pleasure I don’t like to keep moving all the time. This suits me first-rate. Then I expect to do some paddling when we find the right sort of a log, with Josh at the bow casting his flies, and Tom at the stern trolling his phantom minnow along.”
The log needed was easily found, and was rolled down, to be launched in the pond. A rude paddle was also cut, with the aid of the ax and a sharp knife. Felix declared he could make it answer the purpose; so presently the enterprising scouts composing the fishing party went forth, followed by the best wishes of their mates.
“Fix it so we have a fish dinner to-night, fellows!” Billy Button called out.
“If you’re wise you’ll not make up your mouth that way; then there’s no danger of being disappointed,” said George. “I never expect anything, and so I meet with pleasant surprises once in a while.”
Perhaps since the days of old Robinson Crusoe a more remarkable fishing party never started out than that one. The three boys had taken off shoes and socks, and rolled up their trousers above their knees. Straddling the log, Felix used his paddle, and, sure enough, the clumsy craft moved along fast enough to answer their desires.
Tom let out his line and trolled, while Josh began to cast with great animation, sending his trailing flies close to the shore, and drawing them toward him in fine style.
Presently he struck and managed to land a fair-sized bass. Then Tom caught a larger one on his imitation minnow. The fun began to wax furious, so that once both the anglers chanced to be busily engaged with fish they had hooked at the same time.
It was while this was going on, and their string had already reached respectable proportions, that the boys on the log heard a sound far away, up on the side of the mountain, which caused Josh to exclaim:
“That’s a pack of dogs yapping, and they’re hot on the track of some sort of game, too! Itmay be only a poor little cottontail, but we’ll soon know, for they’re heading straight in our direction. Whew! listen to the yelps they give!”
“There’s something in the lake over yonder, and coming this way, too!” exclaimed Felix “Can it be a muskrat, Tom, do you think, swimming on top of the water?”
“Not much it isn’t!” cried Josh from the bow of the novel craft; “it’s a deer I tell you, a stag with half-grown antlers, taking to the water to escape from the hounds.”
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“Yes, its a buck,” announced Tom, as a shout from the camp told that one of the other scouts had also discovered the swimming animal.
“Whew! there come the dogs along the shore!” cried Felix, pointing as he spoke to where a number of swiftly-moving objects could be seen.
“They’ve taken to the water after the deer!” exclaimed Josh.
“It’ll be a shame if they manage to catch up with the poor thing in the pond!” Felix declared; “we ought to break that game up somehow. Isn’t there a way?”
“If we had a canoe instead of a log we might get between, and keep the dogs back,” he was told by the patrol leader; “but I’m afraid we’ll never be able to make it at this rate.”
Felix had started paddling furiously even while the other was speaking. The novel craft began to move through the water much faster than at any previous time. It was really surprisinghow much speed it could show, when driven by that stout, if homely, paddle, held in the hands of a muscular and excited scout.
Tom gave directions as though he were the pilot, and while the swimming buck certainly saw them approaching he must have considered that these human enemies were not to be feared one-half as much as those merciless hounds following after him, for he swerved very little.
“We’re going to cut in between the deer and the dogs after all, boys!” cried the delighted Josh, who was bending his body with every movement of the paddler, as though he hoped to be able in that fashion to assist the drive.
“It’s a pity we didn’t think to bring another paddle along!” was Tom’s comment, “for that would have added considerably to our progress.”
As it was, however, they managed to intervene between the hounds and the frightened buck. Josh waved both arms, and shouted threateningly at the eager dogs. They possibly did not know what to make of it, for as a rule their masters probably tempted them to chase a deer even with the law against hounding in force.
“Keep back there, you greedy curs!” yelled Josh; and as Tom and Felix joined in the shouting, the last mentioned also waving his flashing paddle, the swimming dogs came to a pause.
Whenever they made a start as though intending to sweep past the log on which the three scouts were perched, Felix, waiting for some such move, paddled vigorously to head them off. This series of obstructive tactics, coupled with the demonstration made by the other boys, served to keep the hounds in check for a certain length of time.
“There, he’s made the shore across on the other side of the pond!” announced Tom.
Looking that way the boys saw the harried buck hasten out of the shallow water. He turned once on the very edge to give a single glance back toward the baffled dogs, still swimming aimlessly about, and yapping in defeat, then leaped lightly into the undergrowth and vanished from sight.
“Good-bye!” shouted Josh, waving his hand after the rescued deer, “and good luck!”
The dogs by this time had managed to flank the obstruction.
“No use chasing after them any more, Felix,” said Tom; “I think the deer has a good lead on them now, and will easily make his escape.”
They watched the pack swim to the shore, and noted that they came out at some little distance from the spot where the buck had left the water.
“That’s going to delay them still more,” announced Tom; “they’ve lost the scent, and will have to chase up and down hunting for it.”
Sure enough the hounds ran first one way with their noses to the ground, then doubled back. It was several minutes before a triumphant yelp announced that they had finally struck the lost trail.
“There they go with a rush!” said Josh, as the pack was seen to start off, following the course taken by the deer.
Their eager yelps became less distinct as they skirted around the foot of Big Bear Mountain.
“Well, that was a queer happening, wasn’t it?” said Tom, as they prepared to resume their fishing, which had been so singularly interrupted.
“It’ll make an interesting event for your note book, Tom,” declared Felix.
“A deer is seldom seen around this region,” Josh ventured to say; “which makes our luck all the more remarkable. I wouldn’t have missed that sight for a good deal!”
“I saw Stanley Ackerman using his camera, so let’s hope he got a bunch of snapshots that’ll show the whole circus,” Felix announced.
“How about allowing dogs to roam the woods up here, Tom; isn’t it against the law in this State nowadays?” Josh asked.
“It certainly is,” he was informed. “For a good many years chasing deer with hounds, and using a jack-light at nights to get them, has been strictly forbidden. Time was when packs of hounds used to be met with in plenty. Men wouldstart out and hunt deer that way. Then the papers took it up, and showed the cruelty of the so-called sport, and it was abolished.”
“According to the law anybody is allowed to shoot dogs caught in the act of running deer, especially in the summer time; isn’t that right, Tom?”
“Yes, that’s what we would have had a perfect right to do if we’d had a gun along. But I don’t believe that pack belonged to any one man. They are dogs that have gone wild, and having gathered together in the woods, live by hunting.”
“I’ve heard that dogs do go back to the old wolf strain sometimes,” Josh admitted; “and now that you mention it, Tom, there was a wild look about every one of the beasts. I even thought they had half a notion to attack us at one time; but the way Felix kept that paddle flashing through the air cowed them, I guess.”
The fishing was resumed, though all this racket seemed to have caused the bass to cease taking hold for some time. By skirting the more distant shores, close to where the water grass and reeds grew, they finally struck a good ground, and were amply rewarded for the efforts put forth.
“I think the bass must have their beds on this shoal here,” said Tom, when they paddled back over the place at which success had cometo them. “It’s early in the season as yet, and a lot of them are still around here. They haven’t gone out into deep water with their newly-hatched young ones.”
“Is that what they do?” asked Felix, who was not as much of a fisherman as either of his chums.
“Well, not immediately after the eggs hatch,” Tom told him. “The mother bass is going to keep her swarm of little ones in shallow water, and guard them until they get to a certain size. Then she darts in among them, scatters the whole lot, after which she is done with them. They have reached an age when they must take their chances.”
When finally about noon the three came ashore, rather stiff from having straddled that log for such a length of time, they had a pretty fine string of fish, two of them in fact.
The talk as they ate their mid-day meal was along the subject of deer hunting, and Tom as well as Josh had to tell all about it, as far as they knew.
Stanley declared he had made good use of his camera, and hoped the results would come up to expectations. All of them united in saying that it had been an adventure worth while; and apparently their sympathies were wholly with the gallant buck, for they expressed a fervent hopethat he would succeed in outrunning his canine enemies.
Somehow in the course of the conversation mention was made of Tony Pollock and his crowd.
“I heard Tony tell a story of having seen a deer pulled down somewhere in the forest last fall by a pack of ugly dogs,” related George Cooper. “At the time I believed he was only yarning, though he vowed black and blue it was so. He said the dogs looked and acted so ugly that he thought it best to clear out before they turned on him.”
“Like as not this same pack,” remarked Tom. “They say that once a dog has taken to that savage sort of life nothing can ever coax him to go back to living with mankind again. It’s in the blood, that call of the wild.”
“Well,” chuckled Josh, “we know of another kind of call of the wild that’s going to be heard in the land pretty soon, when Farmer Sile Perkins faces Tony. He will demand double pay for the chickens Tony and his crowd stole, on penalty of his being arrested if he doesn’t whack up. Oh I can just see Tony begin to crawl then; and I wonder how he’ll get the money.”
Carl was saying little or nothing, and Tom knew why. Here they had been on the hike several days, and as yet there had arisen not asingle chance for him to get in touch with Dock Phillips.
Tom understood that another spell of dark foreboding was beginning to enfold his chum. At the first opportunity he could find, Tom joined Carl. The latter had thrown himself down on the bank some distance away from the camp, where he could be in the shade, and yet look out on the sunlit water, which just then had a most attractive aspect.
“You’re worrying again because nothing has happened as we hoped would be the case, eh, Carl?” was what the patrol leader said as he dropped down close to the moody scout.
Carl sighed heavily.
“Perhaps it’s foolish of me, Tom,” he said, with a curious little break in his voice, which he tried hard to master; “but once in so often it seems as if something gripped me, and made me shiver. It’s when I get to thinking what little real progress I am making that this chilly spell comes along.”
“Yes, I can understand that,” the other told him. “I did hope we might run on Dock while we were up here, and either force or coax him to tell what he did with the stolen paper. He’s away from the influence of Mr. Culpepper, you know, and if we had to come down to offering him a price to get the paper he might accept.”
“Oh! much as I hate to have to compromise such a thing,” said Carl, desperately; “I believe I’d do it. Anything to get that paper, for the more I think of it the stronger I believe it means everything to my mother.”
“Well, we haven’t quite got to the end of our tether yet,” the patrol leader assured him. “I can’t explain it, but somehow there’s a feeling inside of me that tells me to keep on hoping. In some sort of fashion luck is going to turn your way. Just keep up your grit, and hang on. Take a lesson from the persistence of those dogs in following the deer.”
“Yes, I suppose I ought to. I’ve read how wolves will keep chasing after a deer day and night, steady as dock-work, until in the end they tire it out and get their dinner.”
Just then they heard a shout, or what was closer to a shriek. It came from beyond the camp, and was immediately followed by cries of alarm from the other scouts.
“What’s happened?” asked Tom, as with Carl he hurried to the spot to see a group approaching bearing some burden in their midst.
“Walt Douglass fell out of a tree,” replied Billy Button, looking very pale; “and Mr. Witherspoon says he’s afraid it means a fractured leg, if nothing worse!”
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Dismay seized upon most of the scouts upon realizing what a disaster had fallen upon them. Tom however was not the one to forget that he had made a special study of “first aid to the injured,” as had also Rob Shaefer.
“Carry him over here, where we’ll make a soft bed of the blankets, and then we’ve got to see how badly he’s hurt!” was what Tom called out, hurrying on ahead to arrange things.
His example seemed contagious. Boys are apt to follow a leader very much as sheep will a bell-wether. Everybody wanted to assist; and the feeling of panic gave way to one of confidence. Scouts should be equal to any sudden emergency; and in that way prove the value of their education along the lines of usefulness.
Walter was groaning dismally, although trying his best to bear the pain. He looked as white as a sheet in the face. Tom’s first act was to force himself to appear cheerful; he knew thatif all of them stared and shuddered it would have a bad effect on the injured lad.
When they had made an examination Tom and Rob agreed that one of the bones only had been broken.
“It’s a painful thing, but not nearly so bad as a compound fracture would be,” Tom announced. “I think we can set it all right, temporarily, and then bind the leg up. In the meantime, Mr. Witherspoon, please make up your mind what we’d better do about getting Walter home in a hurry, where the doctor can take charge of him.”
“I hope you won’t think of giving up your hike just on account of me, fellows,” said the poor Walter, weakly, showing a magnanimous spirit in adversity that made his chums feel all the more admiration for him.
“Leave that to me,” Mr. Witherspoon announced; “I remember seeing an old car in the yard of that house we passed some three miles back. If you boys can make some sort of stretcher for carrying Walter I’ll see that he gets home to-day, if I have to accompany him, and then come back again to you.”
This cheered the stricken lad as nothing else could have done. Home just then had a most alluring look to Walter. The woods may seem all very delightful when a boy is perfectly well, but let sickness or an accident put him on hisback, and there is nothing like one’s own home.
After making some preparations, Tom and Rob announced that they were ready.
“It’s going to hurt you some, Walter,” said the patrol leader, regretfully; “but it’s got to be done, you know. Those two ends of the bone must be brought together, and after that we intend to bandage your leg the very best we know how.”
Walter shut his teeth hard together, and seemed to prepare for the worst.
“Go ahead, boys,” he said, grimly; “I’ll have to grin and bear it, I guess. And I deserve all I’m getting for being so silly as to slip when I was climbing that tree to see what was in the hole in the trunk.”
He managed to stand it very bravely indeed, though the agony must have been intense. The other scouts heaved a sigh when they saw the amateur surgeons start to binding up the injured limb.
“That’s all through with, Walter,” said Tom, cheerily, “and you stood it like a soldier, we’ll all declare. Just as soon as that litter is done you’re going to be carried back to that house, if it takes every one of us to do the job.”
Josh and some of the others had been busily engaged trying to construct a suitable litter. Fortunately they had learned how this should bedone, for it is one of the duties of every Boy Scout to know this.
With the ax they cut a couple of stout poles about eight feet in length. These were to constitute the sides, and would form the handles, each one to be in charge of a scout.
A blanket was arranged across these in such a manner that there would not be the slightest danger of its slipping, after the two poles had been held a certain distance apart with a couple of cross-pieces.
When finally the litter was completed it was pronounced first-class by every one.
“I’m proud of the way you boys grapple with an emergency,” said Mr. Witherspoon, enthusiastically. “You’re all a credit to the organization to which you belong. I mean that your light shall not be kept under a bushel, for this is an example worthy of being spread abroad, and copied by other scouts.”
The next thing was to lift Walter to the litter, which was done without giving the poor fellow much pain. He seemed so grateful for every little thing they did for him, and looked so pitiful lying there that tender-hearted Billy Button was observed to hurriedly rush away, pretending that he wanted to wash his hands down at the water, when they all knew the tears had been welling up in his eyes.
“It’s going to be no easy task getting him all the way back to that house,” said Mr. Witherspoon, “especially over such rough ground as we’ve struck. Four will be needed to work at a time, and they’ll have to be relieved often, so perhaps we had better all go along save one scout, who can stay to look after the camp.”
“Let Billy stay,” said Josh; “he was complaining of a stone bruise on his heel, and would be better off here than taking that six mile tramp.”
So it was decided that Billy Button should remain in the camp. He did not look as if he enjoyed the prospect very much.
“No wild animals around here to bother you, Billy,” Josh assured him, when they were prepared to make the start.
“You forget those dogs, I guess,” Billy told him; “they must be pretty mad at us for holding them up. What must I do if they take a notion to come back and threaten to eat me up?”
“Oh! the easiest thing for you to try,” Josh told him, “would be to shin up this tree here, and wait for us to rescue you. We’ve hung our grub up so nothing can get hold of it. But don’t worry, Billy; there isn’t one chance in ten that the dogs’ll come back this way.”
It was a strange procession that left the camp. Stanley took a picture of the litter bearers sothey would have something to remember the occurrence by; and Walter had so far recovered from the shock and the acute pain as to be able to raise his head, so that he might appear in the scene as the object of all this excitement.
Billy saw them depart, and then turned his attention to other things. Being left in full charge of the camp he had a sense of responsibility resting upon him, such as he had never experienced before.
It would take them perhaps two full hours going that distance with the injured boy, because great care would be required in picking the easiest way. Of course the return journey would be made in half that time.
Altogether three hours might elapse, even with the best of luck, before the main body of scouts could be expected back; and Billy had been told that they would depend on him to get supper started.
It was fine to see how very careful the litter bearers were as they pushed along the back trail. One would go ahead to lead the way, and so avoid any unusually rough places as much as possible. Every boy looked well to his footing, since any sort of jolt, such as would accompany a stumble, was apt to cause Walter unnecessary pain.
Their progress was necessarily somewhat slow.Tom said that was one of the times when it paid to be sure rather than to try to make speed. And from the fact that not once did they cause poor Walter to give a groan it could be seen that these careful litter-bearers fulfilled their duty fully as well as Red Cross or hospital attendants could have done.
The two hours and more had passed before they came to the house at which Mr. Witherspoon had remembered seeing a car. It turned out that the man who lived there was doing so for his health. He wanted to be in a quiet place on account of shattered nerves.
When he learned what had happened he told them he would gladly take the injured scout to his home, and that there was room also for Mr. Witherspoon, whom he would bring back with him again.
The splendid manner in which the scouts had managed, both with regard to doing up the fractured limb, and in making that litter, excited the man’s admiration; and he felt that he could not do too much for those self-reliant lads.
“Such work should be encouraged by every right-thinking man or woman,” he told them; “and after you’ve all had a cup of hot coffee, which my wife is getting ready right now, we’ll be off.”
Of course all of them were feeling much morecheerful, now that they knew the hike would not have to be abandoned on account of this accident. Some of the boys had begun to fear this would be the result.
“When I get back here from town,” Mr. Witherspoon told them, “it is apt to be late, and I’ll be too tired to try that three miles over rough ground. So I’ve made arrangements to stay here over-night with our good friends. In the morning after breakfast I’ll start off along the trail for the camp. Of course it would be nice if several of you met me half way there.”
“We’ll be only too glad to do that, sir,” Josh told him; for Mr. Witherspoon had by this time firmly entrenched himself in the affections of his boys, who believed him to be the best scout master any troop had ever boasted, barring none.
After seeing the car start, and giving Walter a rousing send-off that must have done his heart good, the rest of the boys concluded to turn their faces toward the camp.
“Three hours will seem an age to Billy Button,” said Horace, who was feeling quite proud of the fact that he had been chosen as one of the litter-bearers.
“Oh! he’ll have plenty to do cleaning all those fish we caught this morning, and some other odd jobs I gave him,” remarked Josh, carelessly.
“Billy is inclined to be timid,” Felix observed, loftily; “and it’s a good thing, for him to be left alone once in a while. Nothing like making a scout feel he’s just got to depend on himself for things.”
The three miles was soon covered by the returning eight scouts.
“I can see smoke ahead!” announced Josh presently.
“Yes, and there’s the pond shining in the light of the sun,” added Felix.
“Isn’t that our chum, Billy, waving his hands to us?” asked George. “Looks as if he wanted us to hurry up some. I wonder what’s happened now?”
“Oh! he’s only anxious for us to join him,” said Carl; “perhaps he made a mistake in the time we were to be back, and he’s gone and cooked all the fish.”
It was soon seen, however, that the guardian of the camp had a good reason for his excitement. His face bore a troubled expression, it struck Tom, when he drew near the camp.
“Anything gone wrong here Billy?” he asked.
“I should say there had, Tom!” he burst out with. “Why, would you believe it, some miserable tramps raided the camp, and got away with most of our stuff!”
Contents
“Tell us how it happened, Billy!” said the patrol leader, when the clamor of excited voices partly died away, giving him a chance to make himself heard.
“Yes, what did they do to you, Billy?” demanded Josh, noticing that the other did not seem to be limping, or showing any other signs of having met with rough treatment at the hands of the camp raiders.
“Why, it was this way,” Billy hastened to explain. “You see I was down by the water cleaning all those fish at the time. Guess I must have been pretty much a whole hour at the job. And I’d just about finished when I thought I heard somebody give a sneeze, which made me get up off my knees and look around.”
“And did you see the tramps in camp cleaning things out then?” asked Felix.
“Well, no, not exactly,” replied Billy; “the most I thought I saw was something moving inthe bushes on the other side of the camp; and yes, it was just like a laugh too that I caught.”
“What did you do?” asked Josh.
“I wondered if those wild dogs had come back,” said the guardian of the camp, “and the first thing I thought to do was to put the pan of fish I’d cleaned up in the crotch of a tree. Then I went to the camp, and oh! my stars I but it was in anawfulmess, with things flung around, and most of our eatables taken, as well as the frying-pan and coffee-pot!”
“Oh! that’s sure the limit!” groaned Josh. “We’ll never be able to keep on our hike with nothing to eat or drink, and not a pan to cook stuff in, even if we bought it from the farmers. It spells the end, fellows!”
“Yes,” echoed George, always seeing the worst side of things, “we’ll have to go back to town like dogs with their tails between their legs, and have all the other fellows make fun of us.”
“Hold on there, fellows, don’t show the white feather so easily,” said Tom, who was looking very determined.
“Do you mean there’s any chance for us to keep going, after our things have been taken in this way?” demanded George.
“Well, we can talk that over to-night, and then see what Mr. Witherspoon has to say aboutit when he joins us in the morning,” Tom told him. “As for me, I’d be willing to go on half rations rather than own up beat. How do we know but that this raid on our stuff was made just to force us to give up our hike?”
“Why, how could that be?” asked Billy Button, wonderingly.
“And why would hoboes want that to happen?” added George.
“When Billy says they were tramps he’s only jumping to conclusions,” Tom explained, “he doesn’t know a thing about it, because he owns up he failed to get even a single look at the thieves. I’ve got my own opinion about this thing.”
“Meaning you believe you know who the fellows were?” questioned Carl.
“Stop and think—who would like nothing better than to put us in a hole? Don’t we happen to know that Tony Pollock and his crowd are around here on Big Bear Mountain somewhere? Didn’t they rob that hen roost of Mr. Perkins?”
“Tom, I really believe you’re right!” exclaimed Josh, beginning to look at the matter from the standpoint taken by the patrol leader.
“We can soon settle that part of it!” declared Rob Shaeffer.
“By hunting for their tracks, and finding out how many thieves there were,” Tom went on to say. “Come on Billy, and show me just whereyou saw the bushes moving when that laugh struck you.”
He called upon the others to keep back so that they might not spoil any tracks to be found at that particular spot. A very little search showed the boys what they so eagerly sought.
“Here are tracks enough, and all heading away from the camp,” said the patrol leader presently, “let’s see how we can classify them, for every footprint will be different from the others.”
“Here’s one that is square across the toe,” announced Josh, instantly. “And say, seems to me I remember Asa Green always wears shoes like that. Now Wedge McGuffey has got broad shoulders and spindle legs, and he wears a pointed shoe like the one that made these tracks.”
“Here’s another that’s got a patch across the toe,” said Felix. “Couldn’t mistake that shoe, no matter where you saw it. A fellow could be hung on such circumstantial evidence as that.”
“And here’s a fourth that’s different from any of the rest,” continued Tom, as he pointed downward, “so it looks as if there were just four in the bunch, which you may remember corresponds with the number in Tony Pollock’s crowd, now that Dock Phillips has thrown his lot in with them.”
Some of the scouts expressed their indignation loudly as they investigated the results of the daring raid. It would not have been pleasant forTony and his cronies had they been brought face to face with the angry scouts about that time.
Tom Chesney soon had reason to admit that he had met with a personal loss that bothered him exceedingly.
“They’ve even taken my little diary in which I’ve been keeping an accurate account of our entire trip,” he announced; “though what good that could do them I’m at a loss to understand.”
“Oh! they just believed it would make you feel bad,” explained Carl; “and that would tickle Tony, he’s such a mean sort of fellow. Perhaps he expects to read it out to the others while they sit by their fire, and then throw it away. I hope you can write it all over again, Tom.”
“Too bad!” declared Josh, “when you went to such trouble to jot everything down just as it happened, thinking you might take that prize offered for the best true account of a hike by scouts.”
“I’ll make sure to write this latest adventure out while it’s fresh in my mind,” remarked Tom, bent on making the best of a bad bargain.
“Well,” observed Felix, “all I hope is that we decide not to give up the ship for such a little thing as being without provisions. It’ll make us hustle some to lay in a supply; but, after all, the experience is going to be a great thing for us.”
“And if it comes to a vote,” added Horace,showing unexpected stamina in this emergency; “count on my voice being raised against giving up. Why, I’m just getting interested in this game, and I find it pretty exciting.”
“Just what I say!” echoed Josh.
“And I!” came from every one of the others, without even the exception of poor Billy, who seemed to feel that he might be mostly to blame because the raid on the camp had been conducted while he was in charge.
Tom smiled on hearing so unanimous an expression of opinion. He knew that even such an apparent catastrophe as had befallen them was not going to cause these gallant fellows to “take water.”
“How long ago was it that the raid took place, Billy?” asked Josh, as though a sudden idea had struck him.
“Oh! I should say about an hour or more,” replied the other, after thinking it over. “I suppose they watched the camp for a while to make sure I was the only one around. Then when they saw me so busy down there by the pond they just started to root. They may have been poking around half an hour, for all I know; I was keeping my eyes on my work and thinking of poor Walter.”
“Tom, would it pay us to follow them right now?” demanded Josh, while his eyes sparkledwith the spirit of retaliation, as though he could picture them pouncing on the spoilers of the camp, and making them pay dearly for their frolic.
The patrol leader, however, shook his head in the negative, much to the disappointment of the impetuous Josh.
“In the first place they were apt to hurry off,” said Tom. “Then they might even try to blind their trail, though I don’t believe any of them know much of the Indian way of doing that. But the sun will soon set, and it grows dark early along the northeast side of Big Bear Mountain you know.”
“Yes,” added George, always ready with an objection, “and some of us feel a little tired after all we’ve gone through with to-day.”
“We’d better leave that until Mr. Witherspoon joins us in the morning,” concluded Tom. “Of course that wouldn’t prevent a couple of scouts following the trail a bit while breakfast was cooking, and saving us that much trouble later on.”
“The next thing for us to see about is how under the sun will we cook all these delicious bass Billy’s got ready?” remarked Felix.
“Oh! I forgot to tell you they missed one frying-pan,” remarked Billy, exultantly; “it chanced to be hanging from a nail I drove in a tree, and they couldn’t have seen it. By making relays we can do our cooking in that.”
“Besides, we’re two shy of our original number,” added Horace.
“What would we have done without any skillet at all, Tom?” asked Billy.
“Oh! there are ways of doing it by heating a flat stone, and cooking the fish on that,” replied Tom. “Then some old hunters who won’t bother to carry a frying-pan into the woods with them manage by toasting the meat or fish at the end of a long sliver of wood. Given the fish and a hot fire, the fellow who couldn’t invent some way of cooking would deserve to go hungry.”
“That’s right,” agreed Josh. “And everybody notice that it’s going to take more than a little thing like this to stall the scouts who are up to their business.”
Indeed, there did seem to be an unusual spirit of animation among the boys that evening. Every fellow was anxious to assist in getting supper ready, so that after all it began to look at one time like a case of “too many cooks spoiling the broth.”
When the first batch of fish had been browned they were kept hot on a clean stone close to the fire while the other lot was cooked. As their supply of coffee had gone together with numerous other things, the boys had to drink cold water for supper. Loud were the lamentations over this.
“The smell of coffee, bacon, or fried onions is what always makes it seem like camping out,” declared Josh, sadly; “and now we haven’t got a single one of those lovely things left. Our breakfast is going to be a pretty limited one; and as for other meals to-morrow, where they are going to come from is a question I’d like somebody to settle.”
“Listen,” said Tom. “I’m going to get you up at daylight, Josh.”
“Me? What for? Do we have to start in fishing that early, or else go hungry?”
“I want you to go along with me, that’s all, Josh.”
“Along—where to, may I ask?” continued the other scout, wonderingly.
“Back to where we took Walter,” replied Tom; “I think when that gentleman hears what’s happened to us, after we tell Mr. Witherspoon, he might be willing to sell us some supplies, such as coffee and bacon, and even loan us an extra frying-pan, as well as some sort of tin to boil coffee in.”
So, after all, the boys who gathered around the camp fire that evening, after such an eventful day, did not seem to be cast down one-half as much as undoubtedly the four young rascals who had played this mean trick upon them expected would be the case.
Contents
It was just about an hour after dawn, and the sun had hardly got started on his journey toward the zenith, when two boys in the khaki garb of scouts arrived at the house to which Walter Douglass had been carried on a litter.
Mr. Witherspoon on coming out to get a breath of air before breakfast was announced was surprised and pleased to see Tom and Josh.
“Why, this is splendid of you, boys!” he remarked, as they came toward him. “Of course you were anxious to know about your comrade. We got him safely home, and called the doctor, who said he would not have to set the limb again, since you scouts had done the job in first-class style. It’s a feather in your cap, for he is sure to tell it everywhere. Now, what makes you look so glum, Josh?”
That gave them a chance to explain. When the scout master heard of the latest outrage of which the Tony Pollock crowd had been guilty, he was much annoyed.
“We thought,” Tom went on to say, “that perhaps by coming over here before you got started we might influence the gentleman to spare us a small amount of coffee, a strip of bacon, and some sort of tin to make the coffee in.”
“No harm trying,” Mr. Witherspoon immediately remarked; “and it does you credit to have thought up such a scheme. I’ve found him an accommodating gentleman. If he has anything he can spare I’m sure we’ll be welcome to it.”
When the matter was mentioned to Mr. Clark, he immediately offered to help them out as far as he could do so.
“I can give you plenty of eggs,” he said, “and enough coffee for several meals. It happens that I’m shy on bacon just now, and intended to run in to town to stock up either to-day or to-morrow, when I have my eggs to dispose of. What I can spare, you’re entirely welcome to.”
Nor would he allow them to pay a cent for what he handed over to them.
“What I’ve heard about you boys from Mr. Witherspoon here has aroused my interest greatly,” he told Tom and Josh as they were about to depart; “and I’d be glad to know more about such a splendid movement as this promises to be. You must keep me informed of your progress. I would appreciate an occasional letter. Then, if it happens that your account of the outing is everput in print, Tom, remember me with a copy.”
“I certainly will, sir,” the patrol leader promised, for he realized that the gentleman and his wife led a lonely life of it, removed from association as they were, with most of their fellows.
They reached the camp in three-quarters of an hour after leaving the house, and received a noisy welcome from the rest of the boys, who gave their leaders the regular scout salute as they came into camp.
Then once again the affair was discussed, this time with Mr. Witherspoon to listen and give occasional comments. It ended in their original plan’s being sustained. They would not give up, and would try to carry out the plan as arranged before the hike was started.
Tom had an idea that they must be near the cabin of Larry Henderson, the naturalist whom he had met in Lenox, at the time of the snowball battle with the Pollock crowd.
“He gave me directions how to find his cabin,” Tom explained to his companions when they were discussing this matter, “and I believe we must be somewhere near there right now. I asked Mr. Clark, and what he could tell me only confirmed my idea.”
“But Tom, do you think we could get some supplies from him?” asked Josh.
“There’s a reasonable chance of that,” he wastold. “I understood him to say he always kept a supply of all sorts of food on hand. It was to lay in a lot that took him down to Lenox that time, you know.”
“Then goodness knows I hope we can run on his shack to-day,” said Felix fervently. “We want most of all coffee, potatoes, onions, bacon, ham, and, well anything that can stop the gap when ten campers are half starved.”
“Shall we get started right away, Tom?” asked George, who looked distressed, as though he had not been wholly satisfied with the amount of his breakfast.
“There’s nothing to delay us, since we have no tents to come down,” Tom told him. “Every fellow fold up a blanket, and make his pack ready.”
“It’s going to be marching in light order with us nowadays,” sighed Felix, “with all our good stuff stolen. That’s the only compensation I can see about it.”
“Tom, you’ve studied your chart good and hard, let’s hope,” commented Josh; “so we won’t run any chance of going past the place without knowing it?”
“He gave me certain land marks that I couldn’t very well miss seeing,” explained the patrol leader.
“According to my way of thinking,” Felix was saying, “we must be half around the foot of Big Bear Mountain by this time.”
“You’ve got the right idea of it,” admitted the one who carried the chart; “and Mr. Henderson’s cabin isn’t far away from here. That crag up on the side of the mountain was one of the things he told me about. When we can get it in a direct line with that peak up there we will be within shouting distance of his place.”
Tom continued to keep on his guard as they pressed onward. Every one was alive to the necessity of finding the cabin of the old naturalist as soon as possible. Farms were so rare up here that they found they could not count on getting their supplies from such places; and the possibility of going hungry was not a pleasant prospect.
After all it was an hour after noon when Tom announced the fact that the several land marks which had been given to him were in conjunction.
“The cabin must be around here somewheres,” he said, positively.
Hardly had he spoken when Josh was noticed to be sniffing the air in a suspicious fashion.
“What is it, Josh?” asked the scout master.
“I smell smoke, that’s all,” was the answer.
Others could do the same, now that their attention was called to the fact.
“With the breeze coming from over that way, it ought to be plain enough we must look for the cabin there,” remarked Tom.
The further they advanced the plainer becamethe evidence that there was a fire of some sort ahead of them. Presently they got a whiff of cooking, at which some of the hungry scouts began to sniff the air like war horses when the odor of burnt powder comes down the breeze from the battlefield.
“There it is!” exclaimed one of the watchful boys, suddenly.
Yes, there stood a commodious cabin right in the midst of the thick woods. It was a charming site for the home of one who loved nature as much as the old naturalist did.
When a vociferous shout rang forth a form was seen to come quickly to the open doorway. It was the same genial Larry Henderson whom some of the scouts had once rescued from the unkind assault of the bully of Lenox and his crowd, as they pelted the lame man with hard ice balls.
He welcomed them to his little home with a heartiness that could not be doubted, and soon a royal dinner was being prepared for the whole party. While this was being dispatched later on, the owner of the woods cabin listened to the story of the great hike over Big Bear Mountain, as told by the boys.
Everything seemed to interest him very much indeed, and when last of all they told him how some unscrupulous boys had stolen most of theirsupplies, meaning to break up the hike, Mr. Henderson looked pleased.
“Don’t let a little thing like that deter you, boys, from carrying out your original proposition,” he remarked. “I can spare you all you want in the way of supplies. Yes and even to a coffee-pot and an extra frying-pan. An enterprise as splendidly started as this has been must not be allowed to languish, or be utterly wrecked through the mean tricks of such scamps as those boys.”
He was pleased when they gave him a round of hearty cheers, such as could only spring from a group of lively, wide-awake American boys.
Afterwards he showed Tom and some of the others many things that interested them more than words could tell. Indeed, so fascinating were the various things he took the trouble to explain to them, that the scouts only wished they could stay at the cabin in the woods for a number of days, enjoying his society.
It was decided that they must remain there at least until another morning, which would give them a night with the naturalist and hunter, a prospect that afforded satisfaction all around.
Tom soon saw that Mr. Henderson had something on his mind which he wished to confide to him; consequently he was not much surprised when he saw him beckon to the leader of the Black Bear Patrol to join him.
“Tell Mr. Witherspoon to come, too, and alsothat bright chap you call Rob,” remarked the recluse. “It is a little matter that may interest you and I think it best to lay the story before you, and then let you decide for yourselves what you want to do. Still, from what I’ve seen up to this time of your character, I can give a pretty shrewd guess what your answer will be.”
Of course this sort of talk aroused a good deal of curiosity in both Tom Chesner and Rob Shaefer, and they impatiently awaited the coming of the scout master.
“And now I’ll explain,” Mr. Henderson told them, when he found three eager pairs of eyes fastened on him. “I chanced to be about half a mile away from home an hour before noon to-day when I heard angry voices, and discovered that several persons were about to pass by, following a trail that leads straight into the worst bog around the foot of Big Bear Mountain.”