For a few seconds the boys were too surprised to make any answer. They saw that Sandy was standing in front of a tent, partly hidden by the woods.
“What are you talking about?” demanded Bart. “Are you playing soldier, Sandy?”
“You’ll see what I’m playing fast enough,” spoke the former member of the baseball nine. “I tell you not to come across here.”
“Why not?” asked Fenn.
“Because I say so.”
“That’s no reason.”
“I’ll make it one. Don’t you fellows get fresh with me. You think because you can run the high school, and the nine, you can boss me but I’ll show you that you can’t.”
“No one wants to boss you,” spoke Ned. “You’re making a big fool of yourself, Sandy.”
“I am, eh? Well, that’s my affair. I tell you to keep away from here.”
“But why?” insisted Bart. “This—well, of course it isn’t public property, though no one has ever been stopped from coming here after flowers.”
“Some one’s going to be stopped now,” and Sandy grinned as he looked at his rifle, and then back at his tent.
“We’ve got as much right here as you have,” went on Ned.
“No, you haven’t.”
“I say we have. Mr. Bender’s no relation of yours.”
“I didn’t say he was.”
“But you act so,” said Bart, “standing guard on his property.”
“I may be standing guard, but I’m not working for Mr. Bender,” Sandy answered. “I tell you that you can’t go past, and you’d better not try it. I’ve got a right for what I say, and you’ll find out if you try to cross.”
“Do you mean to say you’d shoot us?” asked Frank suddenly.
“Well—er—I—You haven’t any right here and I order you off!” exclaimed Sandy, getting rather tangled up.
“You can’t order me off!” exclaimed Frank. “I’m going to cross this clearing. If you point that gun at me, Sandy Merton, I’ll lick you sohard you can’t stand up for a week,” and he started forward.
“Don’t get rash,” counseled Bart in a low voice. “No use looking for trouble. We’ll let the mean little cub alone. I guess there are flowers somewhere else.”
“But he hasn’t any right to make us keep off,” complained Frank. “I s’pose he’s got permission from Bender to camp here and he thinks he owns the place. I’ll show him he doesn’t. I’ll whip him!”
Frank again started forward, but Ned took hold of his arm.
“Don’t do it,” he urged. “Sandy might not mean to, but the gun might go off by accident, and it isn’t worth the trouble. I guess we—”
Ned’s remarks were interrupted by the sight of a man, who suddenly appeared from the bushes back of Sandy and stood beside the boy. His first move was to grab the gun away from the youth and then he called out:
“I’m sorry to have to ask you young gentlemen to withdraw, but this is private property and you are trespassing. Will you kindly go?”
“There never was any rule against going through here before,” said Bart in respectful tones.
“That may be,” the man answered, “but it is different now. I am acting for Mr. Bender.”
“Of course we haven’t any right here,” observed Frank, “and we’ll go if you say we must. But it made us mad to have that little sneak Sandy order us off.”
“I’m not a sneak, and I’ll punch your face for saying so!” cried Sandy.
“Come on over, you’ll have all the chance you want,” fired back Frank.
“That will do,” said the man coolly. “Perhaps Sandy was a little hasty, but what he said was true. He has been hired to watch this property, but I don’t believe he needs a gun. I did not tell him to use one.”
“I had to protect myself,” whined Sandy.
“Ho! Don’t worry! You’re too mean for us to bother with!” exclaimed Ned. “We’ll go,” he added.
“I wish you would,” the man replied, civilly enough. “I have no objection to your walking all around within a mile of here, but within that space the land is prescribed,” and he smiled in no unfriendly fashion. “I will bid you good day. Sandy, I guess you can come with me; they will go,” and the man moved back into the woodswhence he had come, carrying Sandy’s rifle, and followed by that youth, who paused to shake his fist at the chums.
“Well, did you ever hear the beat of that?” asked Ned, as he and the others turned around and walked back. “So this is where Sandy is camping. I wonder what it all means?”
“It means there is something queer going on, and I’m going to see what it is,” declared Bart. “Come on, I’ll show them a trick.”
“What are you going to do?” asked Ned.
“We’ll go up on top of the hill. I know a place where we can look right down into this clearing and all around it. It’s from a tall tree I climbed once when I was after bird’s eggs.”
“But we can’t see so far,” objected Frank.
“I’ve got something that we can take a peep with,” replied Bart, and he pulled out a small telescope. “I saw that advertised in a magazine and I sent for it,” he explained. “It came this noon when I was home to dinner, and I forgot to show it to you. You can see five miles off quite plainly through it.”
“That’s all to the good!” exclaimed Stumpy.
“What beats me,” put in Frank, “is how that man came to hire Sandy, and why they’re so afraidof being seen, or of having any one on that particular land?”
“Maybe we’ll find out pretty soon,” spoke Bart.
“I thought Lem said it was a man with a black moustache who was talking to Sandy that day,” said Frank. “This fellow has a light beard.”
“Might be another man, or this one might be disguised,” spoke Fenn.
“It’s getting just like a story in a book,” remarked Ned. “All it needs is the King of Paprica now to complete it.”
“Perhaps they’re all in this game,” suggested Bart.
“The plot thickens, as they say on the stage,” remarked Frank. “Come on, we’ll have to make better time than this. Wonder if Miss Mapes will get her wild flowers?”
“There are plenty on top of the hill,” observed Fenn. “It’s a hard climb, that’s all.”
“There’s some sort of a path around here,” Bart said. “It leads to the top, and was used by some lumbermen. I used to take it. Seems to me—yes, here it is,” he added as he burst through a particularly thick patch of brush, and came out on a rude wagon trail. “Now it will be easier going.”
It took about an hour to reach the top of thehill, and they were so tired they sat down for a moment to rest. They could get a good view of the surrounding country from their vantage point, and, for a while, tried the telescope in various directions. As Bart had said, it was a good instrument and showed things very clearly.
“Now for a look at our friend Sandy’s camp,” observed Bart as he went to the tree from which he had said he could look down into the clearing. It was his privilege to take the first peep, and when he had climbed half way up and adjusted the glass he focussed it on the place from which the boys had recently been ordered away.
For a few seconds Bart remained motionless, gazing at something below him. His companions waited anxiously for some report.
“See anything?” asked Frank.
“No, don’t appear to be anyone—hold on though! Yes, there is. I see three men.”
“What are they doing?”
“They seem to be walking about.”
“Is that all?”
“Yes, that’s all—No, by Jimminy! It can’t be possible! They’re playing leap-frog!”
“Playing leap-frog!” exclaimed Ned.
“Yes! Jumping about like boys! Here, youcome up and take a look, Frank! You’ve got the best eyesight of any of us.”
Bart descended and Frank took his place. He gazed through the telescope for several seconds.
“The men are certainly jumping about,” he said, “but they’re not playing leap-frog.”
“What are they doing?” asked Bart.
“They’re hurrying from one place to another, looking at something through big magnifying glasses, just like that man in the boat. That’s who they are. I can see the King of Paprica!”
“Let me have a look!” cried Ned.
“Is Sandy there?” asked Bart.
“I don’t see him. Yes, there he is. He’s helping them, from the look of things!”
In turn Ned and Fenn were allowed to gaze through the telescope. They confirmed what Frank had said, that the men were certainly at some peculiar operations.
“There are some more tents back of Sandy’s,” said Stumpy. “And I can see a log hut, too. There’s something red over the door!”
“Can you read it?” asked Ned.
“It begins with a ‘K.’ ‘King of Paprica,’ that’s what it is. I can see it plainly, now that the sun is out from behind the cloud.”
“This is where they moved the hut to,” Ned went on. “Well, this thing is getting more and more mysterious.”
Bart again ascended the tree and took a long observation. He reported that the men seemed to be measuring the land with long chains, while one was using an instrument such as surveyors carry.
“Maybe they’re planning to put a new trolley line through,” suggested Fenn.
“That’s so,” agreed Bart. “I didn’t think of that.”
“Probably don’t want folks to know which way it’s going, as if they did, they might put up the price of land.”
“But that doesn’t explain the queer actions of the crazy men,” objected Ned. “I bet there’s something more than that in all this.”
“Well, I don’t see as we can do anything,” spoke Frank cautiously. “We haven’t any right to go on private land. Guess we’ll have to let it drop.”
“Wonder how they came to hire Sandy?” said Bart.
“Probably they knew he was so unpopular he wouldn’t say much to the other fellows,” explained Ned.
“Anyhow we’ve seen what we wanted to, though we can’t make head or tail of it,” came from Fenn. “Let’s go on after the flowers.”
“The men are going away now,” Bart reported. “They’ve gone back in the woods, and Sandy is there on guard again. He needn’t worry, we’ll not bother him.”
The boys remained on top of the hill some little while longer and then, finding a place where there were a number of beautiful wild flowers, gathered large bunches, wrapping the stems about with leaves, wet in a spring, to keep the flowers fresh.
They went through the woods so as to skirt the edge of the clearing but not near enough to it to be seen by Sandy, as they did not wish to get into a quarrel with the youth.
“Let’s make some inquiries when we get backto town,” suggested Bart, “and see if anyone has heard of a trolley line being extended, or of any surveyors at work.”
“Whom can we ask?” inquired Ned.
“You ask Judge Benton, Frank,” said Bart. “You know him, don’t you?”
“Yes,” was the answer, and Frank looked at Bart sharply, as if to see whether the suggestion was made with any particular motive. In fact Bart had mentioned the lawyer’s name to see if Frank would volunteer anything about his visit to the judge’s office that day. But Frank said nothing.
Rowing back was easy work, with the stream’s current to help the boat along, and, early that afternoon, the boys tied up at the dock.
They took the flowers to the church, in the lecture room of which the entertainment was to be held. Miss Mapes met the boys there.
“This is very kind of you,” she said, as she took the blossoms. “They will make the place look beautifully. I hope you didn’t have much trouble.”
“Not a bit,” Frank assured her.
“I’m sure you ought to be rewarded in some way,” the teacher went on.
“We didn’t do it for pay,” said Fenn.
“Of course, I know that,” responded Miss Mapes, “but I would like to show you how much I appreciate it. Won’t you come to the entertainment to-night?” and she held out some tickets.
The boys’ faces showed how glad they would be to come. There was to be music, singing and tableaux, and, while the lads had money enough to buy tickets, they were glad as are most persons to get complimentary ones.
“Are you sure you can spare them?” asked Bart.
“Why I am only too glad to give them to you,” Miss Mapes said. “I’m sure you boys deserve them if any one does. All the members of the arrangement committee get free tickets, and I appoint you special members of the flower committee,” she ended, with a laugh.
The entertainment was much enjoyed. There was good music and a number of popular songs were rendered. The affair was to close with a series of tableaux in which several young persons were to pose as famous characters. Considerable time and work had been put into this feature and everyone was anxious to see it.
Lincoln delivering one of his speeches, Washington reading his farewell address, and Pocahontassaving the life of Captain John Smith, were given with much success. The last one was to be a patriotic group, called the “Spirit of ’76,” which is often shown in pictures, the three figures, an old man and two younger ones, playing martial music on drum and fife while all about them rolls the smoke of battle.
To give the proper effect it was planned to burn a quantity of red fire back of the group to represent the mist of smoke caused by the guns, while the explosion of cannon was to be simulated.
As the curtain went up on the group there was a burst of applause when the tableaux came into view, for it was a surprise, and not down on the program. The red fire was touched off and a great cloud of smoke, made lurid by the chemicals, rolled out. Then the curtain stopped, with but half the figures in view.
“Higher! Higher!” called some one in the wings of the improvised stage. “Higher!”
The voice was loud enough to be heard out in the audience, but was intended to be audible only to the person in charge of pulling up the curtain.
It was an unfortunate thing that “Higher” sounded so much like “Fire!” In fact that is what a number of persons thought the cry was, and, taking it with the smoke, which few knewwas a part of the picture, they believed some accident had happened.
“Higher! Higher!” called the stage manager again, not seeing the alarmed look on the faces of the audience. He wanted the curtain to go up, but it was caught on something.
Then the panic-wave, which is always ready to sweep over a big gathering at the slightest provocation, started. A few women screamed. Some girls started to leave their seats and a number of boys made ready to follow.
“It’s a fire!” yelled some thoughtless one.
That was enough. In an instant the entire audience had arisen and was about to make a maddened rush for the exits, of which there were none too many.
The four chums, with their girl friends, were seated in the first row. They were near enough to know what the matter was and to see there was no danger. Others near them could also see, but the vast majority was in ignorance.
“If they rush for the doors a lot will be killed!” cried Bart.
“Sit down! Sit down!” yelled Frank, and Fenn joined with him in trying to calm those around him. Several girls near them had fainted.
“There’s going to be trouble!” said Ned in a low tone to Fenn. “What can we do?”
“Tell the band to play!” cried Fenn.
Ned turned to where the orchestra had been seated, but the players had fled. The audience was rushing madly for the doors. They were crushing in a terror-stricken mass around the exits. Ned saw his opportunity and acted.
Grasping a cornet from the chair where the player had dropped it he began to blow. He had learned how to give the army bugle calls while in camp one year, and the memory came back to him. An instant later the sweet notes of “Taps,” or “Lights out,” sounded above the terrible noise of the frenzied throng. The audience halted in its mad rush.
Standing up on his seat Ned continued to blow the notes. Clear and true they rang out. Twice he gave the call, but before he had begun the second round the audience had calmed down. Ned had saved the day; the panic was practically over.
Here and there a frightened woman, a hysterical girl, or a timid man made a movement toward getting out, but the majority had come to a halt and turned to look at the young bugler.
By this time those in charge of the entertainment were on the stage calling reassuringly to the people. The red fire died out and the smoke drifted away.
“Take your seats,” said the manager, and nearly every one did so.
“There was an unfortunate mistake,” the manager went on. “Luckily no one was hurt. I regret very much that it has happened. I think it will be best to close the entertainment. It was almost over when the panic started.”
“I want to add but that for the presence ofmind of this young man,” and he looked at Ned, who tried to hide down in his seat, “there might have been a terrible calamity. By his quickness he prevented the panic from continuing. He deserves the thanks of every one here.”
“And he’ll get ’em, too,” called someone. “Three cheers for Ned Wilding!”
They were given with a fervor that made the chandeliers rattle.
“Good for you, old chap!” exclaimed Bart, clapping Ned on the back, while the other chums began shaking his hands. Ned was blushing like a girl, and was soon the center of an admiring throng. He tried to get away but they would not let him. Every one wanted to shake hands with him.
The audience was now laughing and talking where, but a few minutes before, it had been a maddened, unreasoning throng; and shortly began dispersing, and soon there remained only a few, including those in charge of the entertainment. Miss Mapes was among them.
“I’m sure it was the luckiest thing in the world that you boys came,” she said to the chums. “What would have happened if Ned hadn’t played that cornet?”
“Oh, anyone could have done that,” said Ned,who was wishing he could get away from the praise.
“Of course they could, if they had thought of it, but you were the only one who did.”
“I guess some of the other boys would, if I had given them the chance,” replied the hero of the occasion. “I happened to be nearest the instrument, that’s all.”
“Well, it’s a great deal,” responded the teacher. “I’ll send you boys tickets to every entertainment we have.”
“That will be fine,” put in Fenn with a laugh.
“I vote we go home,” said Bart. “Don’t seem to be any more panics to put down.”
The four chums, and the girls, left, each one trying to outdo the other in telling of what they thought and what they saw during the excitement. It was as near a tragedy as had ever happened in the town, and the next day’s paper devoted the whole front page to it, including a vivid description of what Ned had done.
“I’m going to leave town,” declared Ned the next afternoon, as he met his chums.
“What’s the matter?” asked Frank.
“Why everyone I meet on the street stops me and asks me all about it. I’m tired of telling of it and hearing about it.”
“You’re not used to being a hero,” said Bart. “Wait until some society sends you a medal and you’ll be so proud you won’t speak to any of us.”
“Speaking of leaving town makes me think it would be a good plan,” put in Fenn.
“What! Have you been robbing a bank or doing something else, that you want to skip out?” asked Bart.
“No, but we haven’t had any real sport since school closed, and it’s about time we did. I was going to propose taking a trip up the river say for about twenty miles, and camping out for a week. That would be fun.”
“You’re right!” exclaimed Ned. “I’ll go with you for one.”
“Count me in,” said Bart, and Frank added that he wasn’t going to be left behind.
“This is my plan,” went on Fenn. “We can take a small shelter tent, some blankets and a camp cook stove. The boat is big enough to carry all that, besides us, and some things to eat. The weather is fine now, and just right for sleeping out of doors. We can row along slowly, stopping where ever we want to, and tying up along shore for the night. What do you say?”
“Couldn’t be better,” declared Ned. “When can we start?”
“To-morrow if you want to, as far as I’m concerned,” put in Bart.
“It will take a couple of days to get ready,” observed Fenn. “Suppose we say Thursday?”
This was agreed upon, and the boys separated to make arrangements for the trip. They owned, jointly, a small tent that could be used for shelter at night, and a small portable stove which they had utilized on previous camping trips.
Thursday morning saw the boat loaded until there was hardly room for the boys. The craft was heavy but they did not mind that, and there was no grumbling when it fell to the lot of Frank and Ned to do the rowing for the first stage.
“We’ll stop at Riverton on our way up and hire a canoe,” said Bart. “A fellow there has a dock and keeps good boats. We’ll want to do a little paddling about and we can’t, very well, if we have all our camp stuff in this heavy craft. We can tow the canoe behind us, and use it while we’re in camp.”
The others agreed that this would be a good plan, and Bart, having taken a final look over the boat to see that everything was in ship-shape, gave the order to start.
Frank and Ned began pulling with long steady strokes. The boat with its load was not easy to propel through the water and they knew they could do better by taking it easy than by wasting their strength in useless hurry.
Up the stream they went, past Darewell, under the bridge spanning the stream just above the dock, and so on beyond the outskirts of the town until they were out into the country district surrounding the place. It was a pleasant sunshiny day, just warm enough to be comfortable, and with a little breeze blowing.
“I wish this could go on forever,” spoke Fenn, from where he was resting comfortably on the folded tent in the bow of the craft.
“Wait until it comes your turn to row,” said Ned.
They reached Riverton, the next town above Darewell about eleven o’clock and hired the canoe, a large green one, but very light to paddle.
“Shall we get dinner here?” asked Bart.
“If we’re going to camp let’s camp from the start,” suggested Fenn. “What’s the fun of going to a restaurant for your meals? Anyone can do that, but it isn’t everyone who can have theirs in the woods as we can. Let’s go up a few miles more and get dinner on shore.”
The others decided this would be the most fun, and the trip was resumed with Bart and Fenn at the oars. They made three miles before twelve o’clock and then, finding a shady, level spot near shore, tied the boat, and got out the portable stove.
“Now, Stumpy,” said Bart, who had been elected camp manager, “you get the wood. Ned, you dig some worms and catch fish, and Frank and I will get the meal ready.”
The little temporary camp was soon a busy place. Fenn had a fire going in the stove in short order as he found plenty of dry wood, and Ned, going up stream, to a quiet spot, in a little while had caught several fish. They were soon cleaned and put on to fry with the bacon. An appetizing odor filled the little glade in the woods and the boys began to sniff hungrily.
“When will they be done?” asked Frank, as Bart bent over the pan.
“About ten minutes. You can make the coffee if you want to. Ned, you open a can of condensed milk and Fenn, you get out the salt and pepper.”
“Everything but the salt,” announced Fenn a few moments later. “Here’s the box but there’s none in it.”
The others looked surprised and disappointed.
“By Jimminites: I forgot to put it in,” he added “I bought all the other things but I left the salt to the last and it slipped my mind.”
“That’s pleasant,” observed Bart grimly. “How are we going to eat fresh fish without salt? Fenn, you’re a dandy, you are. Thinking too much of the girls, that’s what ails you.”
“Anybody might forget,” said Stumpy in extenuation.
“Well, there’s no help for it, I suppose,” remarked Ned.
“Might use gunpowder,” put in Frank. “I’ve read of campers doing that.”
“Excuse me,” came from Bart, making a wry face. “Besides we haven’t any, so that doesn’t count.”
“There’s some one camping on the other side of the river,” said Fenn, pointing to where a little column of smoke arose through the trees, aboutopposite to where the boys were located. “Maybe I could borrow some salt from there.”
“Good idea,” said Bart. “Take the canoe and paddle over.”
Fenn was soon on his way. The others went on with the preparations for dinner pending his return, as the fish were not quite cooked. They watched Fenn paddle over, pull his canoe upon shore, and disappear into the woods. He was gone a few minutes and when he reappeared a man followed him.
“Maybe he wouldn’t lend any salt,” said Frank.
As the boys watched they saw the man get into the canoe with Fenn, who then paddled over.
“Looks as though he wouldn’t trust Stumpy to bring the salt over,” commented Bart. “Wonder what the man wants?”
In a short time the canoe containing Fenn and the stranger grounded on the little beach near where the boys were camped.
“Did you get the salt?” asked Ned.
“Yes, we have the salt,” replied the man, and then the three boys noticed with surprise he was the same tramp they had met the day they went swimming, and who had inquired about the man the boys knew as the King of Paprica.
“This is the gentleman who was camping onthe other side of the river,” put in Fenn. “I asked him for some salt and—”
“Allow me to explain,” interrupted the tramp, but in a polite tone. “You see it was this way. I am prospecting along the river, and last night my boat, with all my camping outfit, was upset. My food got all wet, and the only thing that didn’t get soaked was the box of salt. It happened to be waterproof.
“I was drying out my clothes and other camping things but alas, when I came to dry out the food I found it had spoiled. So there I was, with nothing but salt to eat. I was just thinking of trying for some fish when this young gentleman came along and asked if he could borrow some salt. I at once saw my opportunity. ‘Here,’ I said, ‘are persons with plenty to eat and no salt. Here I am with plenty of salt but nothing to eat. A fair exchange is no robbery.’ I at once produced my salt.”
“And I at once asked him over to dinner,” put in Fenn.
“Why, of course; glad to have you,” said Bart. “Frank, put another plate on,” he added waving his hand to the ground which served as a table. “Dinner is served,” and he laughed, the tramp joining him.
“Happy to meet you all,” the ragged man went on, not considering it necessary, it seemed, to mention his name or ask how the boys were called. “There is the salt,” and he handed over a large box full.
In spite of his ragged clothes and the heavy growth of beard on his face, the tramp’s hands and face were clean and he appeared to have washed his clothes, as, though they were in tatters, they were not dirty.
“Do you intend to camp around here long?” asked Frank.
“I can’t tell,” replied the tramp. “I am waiting for some friends to join me.”
He did not seem to recognize the boys as the ones he had met in the woods recently, or, if he did, he gave no sign of it.
“You said you were prospecting,” Ned added. “Not for gold, are you?”
“Hardly,” replied the ragged man with a smile. “The truth is I am a naturalist. I have heard there is a certain rare kind of butterfly to be found along this river and I am looking for it. It is called the Oiliander Tinicander. Perhaps you have seen it in your travels.”
“Guess we wouldn’t know it if we saw it,” remarked Ned.
“No, it takes years of study to recognize it. But if you will excuse me I think I will sit down.”
He crossed his legs comfortably in front of the plate that had been placed for him, and in a few minutes the dinner was under way. The salt certainly added zest to the fried fish and the boys, as well as the tramp, ate with excellent appetites.
“Best meal I’ve had in a long while,” said the ragged man. “I hope I can return the favor some time.”
“We’ll be happy to call on you,” said Bart, “but we are going to leave this afternoon. We are bound up the river.”
“Well, good luck to you. May I trouble you to put me on the other side?” and he looked at Fenn who nodded in assent.
“Well that was a queer coincidence,” spoke Ned, as Fenn and the tramp were in the middle of the river on the return trip. “What in the world is he doing around here? Looks as though the secret hadn’t developed yet.”
“We must ask Fenn what sort of headquarters he has over there,” suggested Bart. “He’ll soon be back. There I meant to ask him to sell us some salt! He’s taken his back.”
“We can get it at the next town,” put in Frank. “We’ll camp just above it.”
“What sort of a place has he over there?” asked Bart, as Fenn came back in the canoe.
“Not much,” was the reply. “I don’t believe he’s camping out at all. I saw some things in a pile on the ground, but they looked more like a lot of instruments than anything a man would go camping with. Besides, I didn’t see any boat.”
“What sort of instruments were they?” asked Ned.
“Kind I never saw before. All brass or nickle plated. Then there were some boxes. He seemed to be drying them out, so maybe he did have an upset of some sort.”
“There’s his boat now,” called Frank, and, as the boys watched, they saw the tramp appear from the woods with a canoe on his shoulder.
The boys watched the man carefully place the frail craft in the water. Then he went back into the woods again and came to the shore with something bright and shining in his hands.
“That’s one of the instruments,” said Fenn.
“Maybe he catches butterflies with it,” suggested Frank.
“That was a jolly he was giving us, about being a naturalist,” said Bart. “He’s up to some game, but I don’t see that it concerns us.”
“What’s next on the program?” asked Ned. “Pack up and move along?”
“Rest awhile; good for the digestion,” remarked Bart. “I want to see which way the tramp goes.”
The boys, lying on shore, in the shade, saw their recent guest paddle slowly down stream. They watched him until he disappeared around a bend.
“Well, that’s another link in the queer puzzle for us to solve,” spoke Ned. “By the way, Frank, did you ever make any inquiries of Judge Benton about whether there was any prospect of a new trolley line going through?”
“Yes, and he said he didn’t know of any. I told him about the men, but he said they might be surveyors dividing the land up into building lots. Mr. Bender is anxious to improve his property, he said.”
They broke camp and reached Woodport about five o’clock, got the salt and one or two otherthings they happened to think might come in handy, and resumed their journey up the river. Woodport was a small place and they soon passed it, coming to a long stretch of water that flowed between densely wooded banks on either side.
“Good place to camp,” spoke Ned. “No one to bother us. There’s no fun camping close to a town.”
“Not unless you run out of salt or something like that,” replied Bart.
“Oh, well, one should get accustomed to doing without salt, or other things he can’t have,” Ned rejoined. “I believe I could get used to anything.”
“Good way to feel,” spoke Fenn. “I wish I could.”
“It takes strength of character,” Ned added.
“Don’t get preachy,” put in Frank.
“Say, instead of moralizing, you fellows had better be looking for a place to camp,” said Fenn, who, with Frank, was rowing. “I’m getting tired.”
“That looks like a good place over there,” came from Bart, indicating a spot where the trees did not seem to be so thick. “Little beach, too, for the boat to ground on so it won’t pound on the rocks if a wind comes up.”
The craft was put over to it, and a closer inspection showed the place to be well fitted for the purpose. The rowboat was tied to an overhanging tree and the tent was soon set up. Then a place was made for the stove and some supplies set out. A big tree stump served for a table and in a little while Fenn had a good fire built.
“What’s the menu?” he asked Bart.
“Open a can of chicken and we’ll fry it brown,” was the answer. “That, with bread and butter and coffee, will make a meal.”
Supper was soon on the “stump” and four very hungry boys gathered around it.
“Where’s the milk for the coffee?” asked Ned.
“I forgot it. It’s in the boat,” replied Fenn. “I’ll get it.”
He hurried down to where the craft was tied, and a moment later his companions heard him utter an exclamation.
“What’s the matter, did you fall in?” called Bart.
“No, but the can of condensed milk did, and it’s the only one we have.”
“Oh, hang it!” exclaimed Ned. “I can’t drink coffee without milk. What’s the matter with you, Stumpy?”
“I couldn’t help it. It slipped.”
“I’m thirsty for coffee, too,” went on Ned.
“Use it without milk,” suggested Bart.
“Can’t. Never could.”
“‘One should get accustomed to doing without salt, or other things he can’t have. I believe I could get used to anything,’” spoke Frank solemnly.
“What do you—Oh!” exclaimed Ned. He recalled that those were the very words he had spoken a little while before.
“‘It takes strength of character,’” quoted Bart, still from the maxim Ned had laid down so recently.
“Oh well, of course I didn’t mean it just that way,” replied Ned, laughing at the trap he had fallen into. “I meant—”
“You don’t know what you meant,” replied Bart. “Come now, drink your coffee black, as the swells do when they go out to dinner. You’ll get used to it.”
“Have to, I s’pose,” replied Ned, and he tried it, but made a wry face. However there was no help for it, and the boys were so hungry they didn’t mind it much, after the first sip.
Supper over, the dishes and food were put away, and, on Bart’s suggestion, they cut a quantity of wood to have in readiness for the camp fire.
“I don’t know’s we’ll need it,” he said. “There aren’t any animals but foxes, rabbits and coons in these woods. Still a fire looks cheerful, and it may be cold toward morning. Besides, it doesn’t seem like camping unless you have a fire.”
As it grew dark the boys looked to the fastenings of the boats for a wind might spring up and set them adrift. Then, starting a blaze between two big green logs, they got their blankets ready for bed.
They cut some cedar boughs which they laid on the ground to keep off the dampness, making several layers until Fenn, who tried it, said it was every bit as good as his spring bed at home.
“Going to stand watch?” inquired Ned.
“What’s the use?” asked Bart. “No one’s going to steal us. Besides I’m too sleepy. Let’s all go to bed. If any one happens to wake up and sees the fire is low, why he can throw a log on that will be all that’s necessary.”
They did not undress, but stretching out on the cedar boughs pulled the blankets over them and prepared to sleep. The fire cast a ruddy glow on the trees and shone into the tent which was placed near the blaze.
Ned, who was a light sleeper, was suddenly awakened, some time after midnight, by hearinga stick break. It sounded just back of him. He raised his head and listened. Behind the tent he could hear the cautious tread of some person or some animal. He was about to awaken Bart, who was sleeping next to him, when he saw a shadow cast by the fire, inside the tent, on the rear wall of the canvas. He looked out and was startled to see a figure between the tent and the camp fire. It appeared to be looking in on the boys. Ned stretched out his hand and touched Bart.
“Some one is in the camp!” he whispered in his companion’s ear, as Bart stirred.
“What’s that?” exclaimed Bart, suddenly sitting up.
“Hush!” cautioned Ned. “Some one is prowling around!”
But Bart’s voice had startled the intruder. Ned saw the figure move quickly out of the glare of the flames, and then dart down toward the river.
“They’re after our boats!” yelled Bart, who at that moment saw the figure. “Come on, fellows!”
He ran from the tent followed by his three chums. As he passed the fire Bart threw on some light pieces of wood that blazed up quickly.
In the glow the figure of a man could be seen, headed on the run for the little beach, where the boats were tied. As he ran his coat appeared to flap out behind him, the long tails bobbing about from his motion.
“It’s that tramp!” exclaimed Ned.
“Hi there!” yelled Bart.
They saw the man make a flying leap into a canoe that was drawn up partly on shore. The violence of the motion sent the frail craft well out into the stream and it was caught by the current.
By this time the boys had reached the shore. At first they supposed it was their canoe which the tramp had stolen, but a second glance showed them the green craft still in place beside the rowboat.
“It’s his own canoe,” remarked Frank as the boys watched it floating down stream. There was no sign of the occupant.
“Is he in it or did he set it adrift and start to swim?” inquired Fenn. All four were standing on the edge of the water peering out over the river in the darkness, the canoe being a deeper blur which alone distinguished it from the surrounding blackness.
“He’s probably lying down in it, thinking he may get shot at,” said Bart.
As if to prove his words the sound of paddling was borne to their ears, and the canoe seemed to move faster. The tramp had begun to propel the craft, but they could not see him.
“Let’s get back to bed,” suggested Fenn. “I think we’d better keep watch after this.”
“Not much use,” came from Bart. “That tramp isn’t likely to come back and there’s noone else around here. I vote we get what sleep we can.”
It was decided this was as wise a thing as could be done and after replenishing the fire, so it would burn until morning, the campers crawled back into the tent and slept until sunrise, no further alarms disturbing them.
“Well, fellows,” called Frank when the things had been put away. “What’s the program for to-day?”
“We’ll row up stream until noon,” said Bart, “camp and have dinner, and, if we like the place, stay all night. If we don’t we’ll move on to a better one.”
The boat was soon loaded and, with the canoe towing along behind, the trip was resumed. The river wound in and out through a wooded country for a few miles and then they came to a long straight stretch where it flowed between level fields.
As the boat was urged up stream under the impulse of the oars in the hands of Bart and Fenn, Ned, who was resting in the bow, called out:
“Steer her out a bit, Frank. There’s a man fishing just ahead of us and we don’t want to disturb him.”
Frank who was at the rudder lines glanced upand saw, about a quarter of a mile ahead, a man standing up to his waist in water.
“That’s a queer way to fish,” he remarked.
“Probably he’s hooked a big one and is playing him,” remarked Ned.
As they watched the man ran up out of the water and along the bank a few feet, and then, turning, he quickly waded out into deep water again.
“That’s a queer proceeding,” commented Bart, who turned to look at the man.
“Rather,” admitted Ned. “He must—Why a bull is after him!” he went on.
As he spoke the others saw a big black bull come tearing down the field straight toward the river. It stopped when it came to the water’s edge, opposite to where the man was standing in the stream up to his hips. There the beast lowered its head and, with an angry snort, pawed the soft mud.
“Row faster!” urged Frank. “Maybe we can help him.”
As the boat approached, the boys saw the man make several other attempts to leave the river. Each time he tried the bull would chase him back, but the animal seemed to be afraid of getting its feet wet, for it always stopped at the shore.
Sometimes the bull would withdraw some distance back into the field. At such times the man would wade along near shore until quite a ways above or below the animal. Then he would make a dash, hoping to fool the beast, but every time the bull heard him and came down with a rush.
The boys were now near enough to hear the man addressing the bull in no gentle tones. The prisoner in the water did not appear to notice the boat.
“Consarn your black hide!” he exclaimed. “Let me git out of this cold water, will ye? By Heck! Th’ next time I try t’ put a ring in your nose you’ll know it. Come now, Stonewall Jackson, let me out, will ye?”
But the bull seemed to have some grudge against the farmer for it lowered its horns and gave an angry bellow.
“If ever I git out of here I’ll hobble ye so’s ye can’t move, ye onery black critter!” the farmer went on. “I’ll whale ye till ye’ll wish ye’d behaved yerself, that’s what!”
This time the bull had gone back up the field and was browsing the grass. The farmer cautiously waded down stream and made a dash for shore. The bull heard him and came down sofast that its momentum carried it several feet into the river before it could stop. Meanwhile the farmer had hurried deeper into the stream, splashing the water all over himself in his haste.
“If I had a gun I’d shoot ye!” he yelled, shaking his fist at the bull.
“Can’t you swim to the other side?” asked Ned, as the boat came near.
The farmer looked around in surprise. He had been so engrossed by his contest with the bull he had not heard the craft approaching.
“I can’t swim,” he said. “Look at the plight I’m in. No one ever gets to this pasture. I come here to-day t’ put a ring in this critter’s nose. He broke away from the ropes I’d tied him with when I almost had it in, an’ he chased me into th’ water. He’s kept me here over an hour an’ I ain’t had my breakfast. Every time I try to get out he charges.”
“Why don’t you go away up or far down the stream where he can’t follow?” asked Bart.
“I’ve come down a mile from where I started,” the farmer said. “I’m plumb tired out an’ I know I’ll catch cold stayin’ in th’ water so long. If I ever git holt of that ’tarnation critter I’ll—”
He didn’t finish, for, while he had been talking he had been drawing near shore. The bull waswatching him, and made another dash that sent the farmer scurrying for deep water.
“That’s the way he does it,” he said to the boys, his voice showing the despair he felt.
“I have it!” exclaimed Frank. “Get into our boat and we’ll land you anywhere you want.”
“Will ye?” asked the farmer. “That’ll be th’ thing. I’ll fool th’ savage critter. This is where I git ahead of ye, Stonewall Jackson,” he added, shaking his fist again at the bull.
“Is that his name?” asked Ned.
“I named him that about an hour ago,” the farmer said. “He was wuss than a stone wall for me, th’ way he kept me from gittin’ out of th’ river. ’Fore that his name was jest plain William.”
“Named after any one?” inquired Bart as the farmer got into the rowboat.
“Not special. Ye see I took him for a debt a feller owed me, an’ I named him William ’cause I took him for a bill, see? Bill bein’ short for William.”
“Oh, you needn’t explain,” said Bart, as he joined in the laugh that followed.
“I’ve got th’ best on ye now,” the farmer wenton, looking at the beast as the boys rowed the boat out into deeper water.
The bull seemed to think so, for with a loud bellow it went back to the middle of the pasture and began eating.
“He fairly had me,” the farmer said. “He could run along shore a good deal faster than I could wade in th’ water, and th’ pasture runs along th’ river for three miles, without a fence wuth speakin’ of. I couldn’t see no way of escapin’. It’s lucky you come along. Are you boatin’ for a livin’?”
“No, we’re taking a sort of vacation,” replied Ned.
“Had breakfast?” inquired the farmer.
“Oh yes, early this morning.”
“Wish I had. Next time I try t’ ring a bull’s nose ’fore I git my meal I’ll be a older man. I was goin’ t’ ask ye t’ have some breakfast with me,” he went on. “My name’s Garfield Johnson. I’ve got quite a farm.”
“Much obliged, Mr. Johnson,” said Bart, “but we’re just roughing it, and we’re not dressed for company.”
“Green onions! Neither be I!” exclaimed the farmer. “Look at my boots, all wet and my pants too. I wonder what Mandy’ll say.Mandy’s my wife,” he added, “an’ she’s dreadful particular.”
The boys beached the boat in about half an hour, and tying it fast followed Mr. Johnson to his house, facing on a lane which led out to a country road.
“We’ll go in th’ back way,” said Mr. Johnson. “Mandy’s particular about her floors, an’ I’m sorter—.” He looked down at his trousers, which still dripped water, and laughed.
Mr. Johnson introduced the boys to his wife, telling her what had happened. She insisted that the chums remain to breakfast which they did, though they had eaten a few hours previously. They declined an invitation to stay to dinner. Mr. Johnson made them take a big pail of milk, while his wife added a bag of home-made crullers and some cheese, which formed a welcome addition to their larder.
“If you row up stream a mile you’ll be right opposite the village, or you can go by the road,” said the farmer as they bade him and his wife good-bye.
Fenn and Bart decided they would walk, and let Frank and Ned row the boat up and meet them. They wanted to get some condensed milk and matches, of which they had run out.
The supplies were purchased and, in a little while the other boys arriving took Bart and Fenn aboard. Then the trip up the river was resumed. They kept on until late in the afternoon, as their double breakfast did away with the necessity for dinner. On the way they passed a number of steamers and barges bound for Lake Erie. Some of them were loaded with lumber and other commodities, while several were going up the river empty, to get freight.
The boys found a fine place to camp that night and liked it so well they remained there three days. They had pleasant weather and thoroughly enjoyed themselves, paddling about, fishing and going in swimming.
They decided they would go no further up the stream, and, having camped out at their last stop for another day they packed up for the return trip. The weather, which had been fine, seemed threatening, and they had not brought along clothing or blankets which would serve in case of rain.
“We’ll make it in two stages,” said Bart, referring to the home journey. “One night’s camp will fix it so’s we’ll not be all tired out when we get home.”
They started early in the morning, and plannedto camp just above Woodport. It was nearly dusk when they neared the town.
“Hark!” exclaimed Ned, as the boats were gliding along close to shore. “Do you fellows hear anything?”
They all listened.
“Sounds like some one paddling a canoe behind us,” spoke Bart.
“That’s what I think. I’ve been hearing it for the last ten minutes,” Ned went on. “Some one is following us.”
“Maybe it’s that tramp,” suggested Fenn.
“I’m going to find out,” Ned remarked. “You and Frank row along slowly, Bart, and I’ll surprise whoever it is.”
It was now quite dark. The noise made by the oars drowned the sound of the paddles, if the unknown was still following the chums.
Ned was busy in the stern of the boat. He twisted a torch from papers and then soaked the end in kerosene oil from the lantern they had.
“Stop rowing,” he whispered to his chums, “but keep the oars in motion so they’ll make a noise as if we were still going. He’ll think we’re are on the move and keep after us.”
Frank and Bart did as Ned suggested. Theycould not hear the sound of the paddle but Ned could. Suddenly there was a little glow of light as Ned struck a match. Then there was a burst of flame as the oil-soaked paper caught. Ned tossed it away from the boat. It blazed up brightly and in the glare, as it floated on the water, the boys saw a canoe just behind them.
But the greatest surprise was occasioned by a sight of the paddler. As the light gleamed on him the chums saw he was Sandy Merton.
“Sandy!” exclaimed Ned.
Then the light went out, making the darkness blacker than before.