"Keep on calling, Dave!" shouted Dick, as they ran toward the sound of the voice.
"This way!" answered Darry, his voice sounding louder as they neared him.
"What's up?" Tom asked as they ran.
Dave's voice sounded in wrathful explosion.
"Eh?" Tom pressed him.
"Wait until you get here, and you'll see," retorted Dave.
"You're not hurt?" Dick shouted.
"No; but my feelings are!" vented Darrin indignantly.
Another minute and the trio headed by Dick, reached the spot.
By this time darkness was coming on through the woods. Prescott, who was in the lead, at first received the impression that Dave was standing beside a tree. And so Dave was, though the reason for his standing there was yet to be explained.
A moment more and Tom and Dick had reached the spot where the wrathful Darrin was standing.
"Well, of all the——-" began Tom wonderingly.
"Outrages!" finished Darry angrily.
Prescott laughed outright.
"I suppose I must be a comical-looking object," admitted Dave Darrin ruefully. "But just wait until I lay my hands on the rascal who played this trick on me! Oh, I'll make him ache for his smartness."
Though Darrin had an unusually quick temper, he generally had it under excellent control. Now, however, he was so indignant that he fairly sputtered, and the humorous side of the situation did not appeal to him.
What Dick saw was that Dave stood with his back to the trunk of the tree. Around Darry's neck a noose was fast. Back of the prisoner the rope had been wrapped once around the trunk of the tree. Next, several folds of rope had been passed both around Darrin and the tree trunk in such fashion that the boy's arms were pinioned fast to his sides. In addition, a single turn of rope had been taken around each arm. Finally, the rope had been knotted several times at the opposite side of the tree from that on which Darrin stood.
"You must have stood pretty patiently for anyone to be able to tie you up in that artistic fashion!" blurted Tom Reade.
"Patient? Patient nothing!" growled Darry between his teeth. "I was so angry all the time that I couldn't keep from sputtering, but that rascal had me fast, and kept making me more secure."
"How old a man was he?" asked Dick.
"I don't know whether he was a man or a boy."
"Is your eyesight failing, Dave?" asked Tom.
"I haven't eyes in the back of my head," snapped Darry. "Say, aren't you fellows going to hurry up and free me?"
"Can't you free yourself?" suggested Reade.
"If I could have done that I'd now be ranging these woods in search of the perpetrator of this outrage," Darry declared. "Hurry up and untie me!"
"We will, but please be patient for a moment or two longer," begged young Prescott. "This is such a cleverly artistic job that I want to study out just how it was done. How did the fellow attack you?"
"From behind," muttered Darry.
"But how?"
"Wait, and I'll tell you," Dave went on, forcing himself to talk a trifle more calmly. "When I'm free I'll show you the spot over there, in the thicket between the two clumps of bushes. Well, I had gotten this far when I saw the missing steaks. They rested on a tin pan on the ground in the thicket. It looked as though the thief of our supper had gone away to get water or something. I had just stepped, on tiptoe, of course, past this tree when I heard a soft step behind me. Before I could turn, the noose was dropped over my head, and then down on my neck. It was jerked tight, like a flash, and I was pulled against this tree. The fellow took some kind of hitch around the trunk of the tree to hold me——-"
"Yes; I see the hitch," assented Dick. "It was well done."
"So well done that it held me, for a moment," Dave went on. "The noose choked me, for a brief space, so that I didn't have much presence of mind. Before I recovered myself, the fellow had passed the rope several times around my body and arms, and had taken the extra loops on my arms. By that time I was so helpless that I couldn't stir to free myself."
"And you didn't see the fellow?" asked Dick.
"Not a glimpse of him. He worked from behind, and did his trick like lightning."
"But there are no steaks, nor any plate, on the ground in the thicket now," Reade reported, after looking.
"No," Darry grunted. "The fellow who tried me up like this passed over my eyes a dirty cloth that perhaps he would call a handkerchief. Then I heard him over by the thicket. Next he was back here and had whisked that cloth away from my eyes. That was the last I heard of him."
"Why didn't you set up a roar as soon as he attacked you?" demandedTom Reade.
"The noose bound my throat so tightly, I couldn't," Darry explained. "I was seeing stars, and I was dizzy. After he had taken a few hitches of the rope around me he eased up on the noose a bit."
"Did you 'holler' then?" questioned Dick.
"No," Dave Darrin admitted honestly. "I used up all my breath telling that unknown, unseen fellow just what I thought of him."
"If you want to know what I think of the fellow," uttered young Prescott, "it seems to me that the unknown chap is clever and bright enough to be capable of better things than stealing supper from other people. This tie-up is about the most ingenious thing I've seen in a long time."
"Maybe I'd appreciate it more," retorted Darry, "if I could see it as you do, on another fellow. Are you going to hurry up and cut away this rope?"
"Not if you are able to wait calmly while I untie it," Dick answered. "It's surely a good piece of rope. It will go part way toward paying for the steaks."
With that Prescott began to untie the knots. When his fingers ached from this from of exercise, Greg took his place. Meanwhile, Tom Reade explored the thicket where Dave had seen the plate of steaks. There was no sign of the food taken from the camp. This Tom made out by the aid of lighted matches, as the long shadows were now falling in the woods.
"I'm glad, now, that you didn't cut the rope," said Dave, as at last he stepped free. "We'll save his rope, for I hope to find that fellow again."
"What will you do to him if you catch him?" grinned Reade.
"Maybe I'll need the rope to lynch him with," uttered Darry grimly.
Tom threw back his head, laughing heartily.
"Our dear, savage, blood-thirsty old Darry!" Reade laughed. "You talk as vindictively as a pirate, but if you found your enemy hurt you'd drop everything else and nurse him back into condition. Darry, you know you would!"
"Let's get back to camp," urged Greg. "Supper is ready, but no one has had any yet. My stomach feels like an empty balloon."
"All right, then," agreed Darrin gruffly, "though I'd sooner catch that fellow than eat."
"That word, 'eat,' sounds like a poem!" sighed Greg, tightening his belt as the quartette turned campward.
"So you didn't get a single glimpse of your—-your annoyer?" askedPrescott.
"Not what you could call a glimpse," Darrin responded. "Two or three times I caught sight of the fellow's shirt sleeves as he passed the rope around me. His shirt sleeves were of a light tan color, so I suppose that is the color of his entire shirt. That, however, is the sole clue I have to the scoundrel's description."
"I'd like to meet the fellow," mused Dick.
"Maybe you'll have that pleasure," hinted Darry with the nearest approach to a smile he had yet shown.
"You mean you'd like to see me tied up in the same fashion, and then discover whether I could keep my temper under such circumstances?" laughed young Prescott.
"Never mind what I mean," Dave retorted.
They were soon in camp, now, after calling to Dan and Harry two or three times in order to locate their way. At last, however, they came in sight of the glowing embers of fire and the rays of the two lanterns that Dan had lighted and hung up.
"I smell something that smells mighty good," sniffed Dave. "Did any of you fellows recover the steaks? Have you been keeping something back from me?"
"I don't believe you'll find the steaks in camp," Dick retorted, "but you'll find something that will taste fully as good."
With that the quartette charged into camp. Everything was ready for the table by the time each fellow had washed his hands and face in the one tin basin that served the camp.
"Put one of those lanterns on the table, Dan," called Dick, as he finished drying himself on a towel. "Another night, if we eat after dark, we'll try to have a campfire that'll light the place up like an electric light."
"Another night, unless some of our neighbors move," predicted Darry, "we won't have food enough left to make it worth while to try to have supper!"
The boys sat down in great good humor, even Dave softening when he saw the bountiful supper that had been prepared. Not one of them felt nervous about the possible nearness of the late prowler. The boys were six to one, whoever the prowler might be. Besides, this mysterious stranger seemed to prefer humor to violence.
Yet, all the time they were eating and chattering—-and Dick did his full share of both that young man, Prescott, was also busily thinking up plans by means of which he hoped to be able to gain a closer view of the recent prowler.
Of these plans he said no word to his chums, for there was more than a chance that the human mystery of the woods was even then within earshot, off under the shadows among the trees.
At last the meal was finished, this time without the help of the prowler. Dave and Dan washed the dishes, while Tom and Harry carried water enough to fill the hogshead that had been brought along as part of their camp equipment.
At the same time, Dick and Greg unstrapped and set up the six light-weight folding canvas cots, standing them in a row in the tent. Next they arranged the bedding that had been loaned by mothers at home, and made up the six beds. Enough fuel to start a fire in the morning was also brought in.
"And now, what did we come out here in the woods for?" inquiredDick smilingly.
"To get our fill of sleep," yawned Tom.
"To eat," suggested Hazelton hopefully.
"To fish," added Dave Darrin promptly.
"Just to lie down and take things easy," declared Danny Grin.
"As for me," piped up Greg Holmes, "I'm not going to bother my head, to-night, as to why we came here. I'm going to get a ten hour nap, and in the morning I'll try to solve the riddle for you, Dick, of why we came here."
A tired lot of boys, not really ready, as yet, to admit that they were used up, lay down on their cots without undressing. They intended, later, to get into their pajamas.
A single lantern, its wick turned low, hung from one of the posts. Prescott did not trust himself to lie down, for his eyes, despite his efforts to keep awake, were heavy, and he did not want to sleep for some time yet.
Within ten minutes Darrin alone had his eyes open, and even he was making a valiant struggle against sleep. At last, however, he yielded, and soon settled into sound slumber.
"They're off in another world," smiled Dick, as he listened to the deep breathing of his chums; then he slipped away from his cot.
From under a box in one corner of the tent he took out a large cup of coffee that he had hidden some time earlier. It was still warm and he drank it with relish, though his main purpose in using the beverage was to make sure of keeping himself awake.
His next move was to extinguish the lantern. Now he made his way to the bucket of water and basin. Dashing the cold water into his face, and wetting his eyes well with it, Prescott took a few deep breaths. He now felt equal to keeping awake for some time.
Outside, by this time, all was darkness, save where a few embers of the recent camp fire glowed dully.
Dick threw himself down, resting his head on his elbows, in the doorway of the tent.
"Now, don't you dare go to sleep!" he ordered himself, repeating the command frequently as a means of aiding himself to keep his eyelids from closing.
"You keep awake!" he half snorted, as he felt drowsiness getting nearer. He pinched himself, inflicting more than a little pain.
At last, however, the young leader of Dick & Co. found that his drowsiness had passed for the time being, like the sentinel in war time.
"Now, I think I can keep awake until daylight, if I have to," muttered young Prescott to himself. "At daylight it won't be so very mean to wake one of the other fellows and let him take my place."
Yet, after an hour had passed, Dick was almost doomed to discover that nature had some rights and knew how to assert them.
His eyes had just closed when he awoke with a start.
Someone was treading lightly past the wall of the tent, coming toward the door. Dick had barely time to glide back behind the flap of the tent when the unknown someone stopped at the doorway.
It was too dark to make out anything distinctly under the canvas, but the stranger listened to the combined snorings of five of the six boys, then chuckled softly.
"Oh! Funny, is it, to think that we're all asleep, and that you may help yourself at will to the food that cost us so much money!" thought Dick wrathfully. The stranger hearing no sound from the apparently sleeping camp soon passed on in the direction of the fire.
Here much of the provisions had been stacked in the packing case cupboards, for the reason that to store food in the tent would seriously curtail the space that the boys wanted for comfort.
Out of the tent crept Dick, crouching. His heart was beating a trifle faster than usual, perhaps, for he saw at once that the prowler was larger than himself.
Before one of the box cupboards the prowler halted and rummaged inside with his hands.
"I guess this is where I need a light," mused the stranger, half aloud.
"Pardon me, but what do you want with a light?" inquired Prescott, at the same time pushing the stranger forward on his face. Dick now seated himself on the other's shoulders.
"Don't make a fuss," Prescott advised. "I like to think myself a gentleman, and I don't want to muss you up too much."
The stranger laughed. It was an easy, confident laugh that destroyed a bit of the Gridley boy's sense of mastery.
"What are you doing, up at this time of night?" asked the stranger.
"Minding my own business, in my own camp," Dick replied easily."And what are you doing here? Whose business are you minding?"
"My own, too, I reckon," replied the prowler more gruffly.
"In other words, attending to your hunger?" pressed Prescott.
"I'm looking out that I don't have too much hunger to-morrow," came the now half sullen answer.
"Is this the way you usually get your food?" Dick demanded dryly.
"This is the way I get most of it," came the reply.
"Stealing it, eh?"
"Well, what of it?" came the sulky retort. "The world owes me a living."
"To be sure it does," Dick answered blithely. "The world owesevery man a living. That's just why you don't need to steal.Just sail in and collect that living by means of hard work.Are you the chap who collected our steaks this evening?"
"None of your business. And, now, if you've given me as much chatter as you want, get off my shoulders!"
"I've a little more to say to you yet," Dick responded.
"Get off my shoulders!"
"I will—-when I'm through with you," Dick agreed.
"You'll get off at once, or I'll roll you off!" came the now angry threat.
"Try it," Dick urged coolly.
Right then and there the stranger did try it. He "heaved," then attempted to roll and grapple with the young camper. He would have succeeded, too, had Prescott relied upon his strength alone. But Dick employed both hands in getting a neck-hold that hurt.
"Now, quit your fooling," Prescott advised, "or I'll let out a whoop that will bring five more fellows here. Do you know what they would do to you? They'd just about lynch you—-schoolboy fashion. Do you know what a schoolboy lynching is?"
"No," sullenly answered the stranger, as he started to renew the struggle.
"You will know, soon, if you don't stop your stupid fooling,"Dick told him.
"Hang you, kid. Get off of me, and keep your hands away, or I'll hurt you more than you were ever hurt in your life, and I'll get away with it, too, before your friends come!"
So lively did the struggle become that Dick was obliged to use his clenched fist against the side of the prowler's jaw. That quieted the stranger for an instant.
Leaping lightly from his troublesome captive, Dick snatched up a heavy club of firewood that lay nearby.
"That's right," Dick agreed, swinging the club, as the other rose to a sitting posture. "Sit up, but don't try to get up any farther unless you want to feel this stake, which is tougher than those other steaks!"
Prescott kept nimbly out of reach of the other's arms, though he took pains to keep himself where he could jump in with a handy blow at need.
"Now," remarked the high school boy, "you are getting an idea as to who's boss."
"Well, what do you want?" asked the other sullenly. He had already drawn down a tattered, battered old cap so that it screened his face.
"I want to get a better look at you," Prescott replied. "I want to be able to know you anywhere. Tan colored woollen shirt; brown corduroy trousers; low-cut black shoes; cap defies description. Now, let me see your face."
With that Dick bent quickly, picking up an oil-soaked bunch of faggots that he had prepared before the others had turned in for the night and dropped them upon the campfire.
Like a flash he was back, close to the stranger. "Don't you dare try to get up!" Dick threatened, swinging the club.
"Hit me, if you dare!" leered the other. "I'm going to get upright now!"
With that he made a lurching move forward. Prescott swung the club, though of course he did not intend to beat the stranger about the head.
His indecision left him off his guard. The stranger closed in on the club, wrenching it from Prescott's hand and tossing it far away. But Dick dropped, wrapping his arms about the other's legs and throwing him.
Just as the two went down in a crash the fire, which had been smoking, now blazed up.
"I'll show you!" roared the stranger, now thoroughly aroused, as he grappled with Prescott and the pair rolled in fierce embrace over the ground.
Dick was not afraid, but he didn't want this night hawk to get away, so he bellowed lustily:
"Fellows! Gridley! Gr-r-r-id-ley! Quick!"
"Stop that!" hissed the stranger, who was now easily uppermost, and holding Prescott with ease.
"Quick!" yelled Dick.
The stranger grasped the high school boy by the throat, then as swiftly changed his mind, for someone was stirring in the tent. Up leaped the prowler, yet, swift as he was, Dick was also on his feet.
"Keep back!" warned the prowler, as he turned to run.
"You're mine—-all mine!" vaunted young Prescott, making a gallant leap at the unknown foe.
But that brag was uttered just a few seconds too soon.
Smack!
Against Dick's face came the palm of the larger youth's right hand. It was the old, familiar trick of "pushing in his face." So quickly did that manoeuvre come that Dick, caught off his balance, was shoved backward until he tripped and fell.
Then the stranger vanished with the speed of one accustomed to flight through the woods.
His eyes full of sand from the fall, Dick struggled to his feet, rubbing his eyelids, just as Dave Darrin came running up.
"What was it?" demanded Dave.
"Come on! We ought to catch him yet!" cried young Prescott, turning and running into the woods. But Dick's eyes were not quite as keen as they had been, and Darry, once he had the general direction, outstripped his chum in the race.
Once away from the blazing fire of oil-soaked wood, however, the boys found themselves at a disadvantage in the woods. At last Darry stopped, listening. Then, hearing sounds, he wheeled, dashing at a figure.
"Get out with you, Darry!" laughed Prescott good-humoredly.
"I thought you were——-"
"The other fellow! Yes; I know," laughed Dick.
"Where is he? Listen!"
But only the night sounds of the woods answered them.
"We'd better put for camp," whispered Dick, "or that fellow will slip around us and pillage the supplies before we get there."
Dave started back at a dog trot, Dick following at a more leisurely gait. Both were soon by the campfire again.
"Was it the same fellow?" demanded Darry, in a low voice.
"It must have been," Dick nodded, "though you didn't see him at all when you encountered him, and I didn't get a view of his face. But he had on a tan colored shirt. He also had on brown corduroy trousers and low-cut black shoes. He kept his torn cap pulled down over his eyes so that I couldn't get a look at his face that would enable me to know it again if I saw it."
"Hang the fellow!" growled Darry. "Does he take us for a human meal ticket with six coupons?"
"He must be hungry," rejoined Dick, "when he could get away with all that steak and then come back, within a few hours, for more of our food."
"How did you come to catch him?" Dave asked curiously.
Prescott explained how he had managed to remain awake and on guard, against a possible second visit from the young prowler.
"So we've got to stay up the rest of the night, and mount guard every night, have we?" grunted Darry disgustedly. "Fine!"
"We'll either have to watch, or part with our food," Dick assented.
"We ought to have brought Harry Hazelton's bull-dog. That would have spared us guard duty."
"I'm glad we didn't bring the pup," Dick rejoined. "That pup is growing older, and crosser. He'd bite a pound or two out of some prowler's leg, and we don't want that to happen."
"Why not?" demanded Dave grimly, opening his eyes very wide.
Dick laughed softly by way of answer.
"I'd just as soon have a tramp chewed up as have our food supplies vanish," Darry maintained.
"Little David, your temper has the upper hand of you at this moment," laughed Prescott.
"When that temper is on top you're dangerous—-almost bloodthirsty. When your temper is in check you're as kind and gentle as any good-natured fellow. You wouldn't really want to see any human being mangled by a bull-pup's teeth."
"Well, maybe not mangled," Darry agreed. "But I don't believeHarry's pup would do any more than take hold—-and keep hold."
"We won't have the pup, anyway," Dick replied, in a low voice.
"Why not?" Dave again demanded.
"Because, as you know well enough, Harry's father was afraid the pup would only get us into trouble by chewing up someone, and so declined to let us bring the dog."
"That was a shame," Dave insisted.
"I don't think so. If six of us can't take care of one stray tramp, not much larger than any of us, then we're too tender, and ought to be sleeping in little white cribs at home."
"Oh, stop that talk!" urged Dave.
"I mean what I said," Dick retorted. "We're big enough, and numerous enough, to guard our own camp."
"Of course we are; but we'll have to give up some sleep to accomplish that," Dave contended.
"Whoever loses sleep in the night time can make it up in the day time. And now, Darry, get to bed!"
"But we've got to remain on watch."
"You'll feel bad, in the morning, if deprived of your sleep.I'll stay up for a while yet, and then call Tom Reade."
"So I'm no good for guard duty, eh?" snorted Darry.
"Not a bit," said Dick cheerfully. "You're as sleepy and as cross as can be, right at this minute. Go and tuck in, Davy."
Darrin snorted again, then glared at Dick's placid face. SuddenlyDave broke into a hearty chuckle, slapping his chum on the back.
"You're all right, Dick," he declared. "You know how to keep your temper, talk smoothly, and yet hit harder than if you used a club. No, sirree! I'm not cross, even though I may be tired. I'm not cross, and I can thrash into subjection any fellow who dares hint that I'm cross, or that my temper is on a rampage. You go and turn in, Dick."
"Not yet."
"Then we'll both stay up and watch together."
"I'll tell you what," proposed Dick.
"Well?"
"Bring your cot out here. I'll let you sleep for an hour by my watch. Then I'll call you, and you hold the watch and let me sleep for an hour. There is no sense in both of us losing our rest at the same time. Yet, if either fellow needs the other, he'll have him right under his hand."
"All right," nodded Dave. "Anything, as long as I'm not accused of being a sleepy head."
"A sleepy head?" Prescott repeated. "Why, when I called to you fellows for help you were the only one who responded. No; I wouldn't call you an incurable sleepy head, Darry."
Now wholly restored to good humor Dave went back into the tent, lifting his cot and bringing it out to within a few feet of the campfire.
"You take the first nap, Dick," begged Dave.
"No; you take it."
"But I'm not sleepy; honestly I'm not."
So Prescott lay down on the cot, closing his eyes.
The sunlight, streaming into his face, awakened him.
"Why—-why—-where's Darry?" thought Dick, sitting up straight.
The sound of deep breathing answered him. Dave sat with his back propped against a tree, sound asleep. He had slept for hours, evidently, having fallen asleep through sheer, uncontrollable drowsiness.
Rising from the cot Dick stretched himself for he was still drowsy.Then he tip-toed over to where the food was stored, peering in.
"I can't see that our friend, the enemy, has been here again," Dick smiled. He glanced at Darry, but did not awake that tired youngster.
As noiselessly as he could Prescott busied himself with starting a small campfire that could be made larger when needed. This done, he set water to boil.
"Ho-hum!" yawned Tom Reade, dressed only in underclothes and trousers, as he stood in the tent doorway half an hour later.
Dick placed his fingers to his lips, whispering:
"Don't rouse the other fellows. They're tired."
"Darry certainly looks tired," smiled Tom, regarding Dave in the uncomfortable posture by the tree.
Yet, though he must have been quite uncomfortable had he been awake, Darry slumbered on. Greg came out, looked at Dave and smiled. Then Hazelton, next Dalzell, came outside.
"What is the cot doing out here?" Danny Grin was the first to inquire.
"We had a visit from the prowler in the night," Dick replied, "and Dave and I stayed on guard."
"Was Darry as efficient all through the guard tour as he is just now?" demanded Reade ironically.
"That's all right for you fellows," retorted Dick, "who even slept right past my call for help. Let Dave alone. Let him finish his nap, no matter how long he sleeps."
But at that moment Darrin opened his eyes, then leaped to his feet, a victim of red-faced confusion.
"What are all you fellows laughing at?" Dave demanded.
So far none had done more than grin, but now a very general roar went up.
"I'm a chump, on guard duty, and I admit it," Darrin went on, looking sheepish. "Dick, when you found me asleep why didn't you call me?"
"Because," Prescott answered, "when you went to sleep I judged that you did so because you needed the rest."
"I must have been sound asleep from at least one o'clock in the morning," Dave went on ruefully. "Oh, I am a fellow to be trusted, I am!"
"If you've been sleeping, with your back against that tree, from one in the morning, you must be as stiff and lame as you could possibly be," Reade suggested.
"I am pretty lame," Darrin confessed.
"Are you fellows ever going to hustle about and make some moves toward getting breakfast?" inquired young Prescott.
"What have you been doing in that line?" Danny Grin wanted to know.
For answer Dick Prescott pointed to the merrily blazing campfire and the steaming kettle of water.
"I am ready to do a lot more, too," Dick added, "as soon as the rest of you will show signs of life."
At that there was a general bustling.
"Why didn't you wake me up in time to save me from all the joshing?" Darry demanded, with a note of reproach in his voice, as soon as he got a chance to speak with Dick alone. "Tom Reade won't be through all summer with tormenting me about being asleep at the switch."
"No one would have known anything about it, if you hadn't given it away yourself, both by look and words," Prescott returned. "I hadn't said a word that enlightened anyone."
Breakfast was soon ready, for hungry boys, in the woods, are always ready to eat.
While the meal was being disposed of Prescott told his chums of the visit during the night, and of his own share and Dave's in trying to nab the tantalizing prowler.
"How many such regiments of guards as Darry, would it take to guard this camp properly at night?" asked Tom dryly.
"It seems to me," Prescott remarked, "that you fellows will do very well to sing mighty low about Dave's drowsiness. When I had to call for help last night he was the only one with an ear quick enough to hear me and come to my support. What was the matter with the rest of you, sleepy heads, or did you hear and feel that it might be dangerous to turn out in the middle of the night?"
That last taunt had the desired effect. Darrin was allowed to eat his breakfast in peace.
After the meal was over the boys sat around the camp for a few minutes. Each hated to be the first to make a move toward the drudgery of dish-washing and camp cleaning.
"After we get things to rights," inquired Reade, "what is to be the programme for the day?"
"There's a pond east of us that is said to hold perch," Dave answered. "I'm going to take fishing tackle and go in search of a mess of fish. Anyone going with me?"
"I will," offered Danny Grin.
"As for me," spoke up Tom, "I have a line on a place where blueberries grow in profusion. Harry, will you go along with me and pick berries?"
"If it isn't over five miles away," Hazelton assented cautiously.
"Then what are we going to do!" asked Greg Holmes, turning toPrescott.
"From the plans we've heard laid down," smiled Dick, "I think we will have to stay right here and keep the prowler from dropping in to carry away the rest of our provisions."
"Bother such sport as that!" snorted Greg.
"Humph! It may turn out to be the liveliest sport of all," declared Dick dryly. "Certainly if that fellow turns up it will take two of us to handle him with comfort. He's a tough customer."
"Dan, you always were an artist with a shovel," suggested Darry insinuatingly. "Suppose you get out the spade and see what sort of perch bait you can turn up in this neighborhood."
"Me?" drawled Dalzell protestingly. "Shucks! I'm no good at finding bait. Never was."
"Get the spade and try," ordered Darry. "If you don't find some bait we'll have to put off fishing until some other day."
That brought Dan to terms. He shouldered a spade, picked up an empty vegetable can and started away, while Dave began to sort tackle and to rig on hooks suitable for catching perch. Tom and Harry started in to unpack supplies from a pair of six-quart pails that they needed for the morning's work.
"Say, hear that, fellows!" demanded Tom, straightening up suddenly.
From the distance to the northward came a dull rumbling sound.
"Thunder?" suggested Danny Grin, glancing wonderingly up at the clear sky.
"If there's a storm coming it will upset a day's berrying," Reade announced.
"Fellows," Dick broke in, "it's a rumbling, yet it doesn't sound just like thunder, either. It sounds more like——-"
"Cavalry on a gallop," suggested Greg.
"Just what it does sound a lot like," Prescott nodded. Then he dropped to the ground, holding one ear close to the earth.
"And, whatever the rumble may be," Prescott went on, "it travels along the ground. Just get your ears down, fellows."
"It's something big, and it's moving this way," cried Dave.
"It can't be cavalry," Tom argued. "There are no manoeuvres on; there is no state camp ever held in this part of the state, either. What do you——-"
But Dick Prescott was up on his feet by this time. Furthermore, he was running. He stopped at the base of the trunk of the first tall tree. Up he went with much of the speed of a squirrel. Higher and higher he made his way among the branches.
"Say, be careful there, Dick!" called Tom Reade, warningly. "If you get a tumble——-"
"I'm not a booby, I hope," Dick called down, as he went to still loftier heights. He was now among the slender uppermost branches, where a boy would need to be a fine climber in order to make such swift progress. Even Dick Prescott might readily enough snap a branch now, and come tumbling to earth.
"Stop!" warned Tom. "If you don't you'll butt your head into a cloud, the first thing you know."
"Can you see anything?" called Danny Grin.
"I see quite a cloud of dust to the northward."
"How far off?" asked Dave.
"About a mile, I should say, and it's headed this way, coming closer every minute."
"What's behind the cloud? Can you make out?" Greg bawled up.
"I'm trying to see," Dick replied. "There, I got a glimpse then.It's some kind of animals, heading for this camp at a gallop."
"It can't be cavalry," shouted Reade. "You don't see any men, do you?"
"No," Prescott called down, shielding his eyes with one hand."Say, fellows!"
"Have you guessed what it is?" demanded Harry Hazelton.
"I know what it is—-now!" Dick answered. Then he began to descend the tree with great speed.
"Careful, there!" shouted Tom Reade. "That isn't a low baluster you're sliding down."
"Keep quiet, until I reach the ground," gasped Dick. As he came nearer those below saw that he looked truly startled.
Then Dick reached the low branches, and began to look for a chance to jump.
"We've got to get out of here, fellows!" he called. "You know the trick that cattle—-owners have in this part of the county of turning their cattle out to graze in one bunch. That bunch is headed this way—-hundreds strong, and it's going to rush through this camp, trampling everything in the way!"
"Nothing doing, and don't get excited," replied Tom Reade, shaking his head.
"There will be a lot doing in three or four minutes," Prescott retorted excitedly. "The cattle are stampeded, and they'll sweep through here like a cyclone."
"The trees will break up the stampede," Tom insisted coolly.
"Not much they won't," Dick answered. "The cattle are headed along a natural lane, where the trees are less thick than in other parts of the forest."
"The trees will stop 'em before they get here," Reade insisted.
"The trees will do nothing of the sort," uttered Dick, glancing swiftly about him. "The cattle are among the trees already. Just hear that rumble. And it's a lot closer now."
"I reckon we'd better move, do it now, and do it fast," criedHazelton, who knew that Dick's judgment was generally the best.
"And leave our camp to be trampled down and made a complete wreck by a lot of crazy cattle?" gasped Greg Holmes.
"I'd rather have the camp trampled than my face," retorted Dalzell.
"I don't want to flee from here and leave the camp to be destroyed, and our summer's fun spoiled," protested Greg. "We must stop the cattle, or split their stampede."
"All right, Holmesy," agreed Tom ironically. "I appoint you to do my full share in stopping a stampede of cattle." Reade's face had suddenly grown very grave as he now realized that the trees were not stopping the frenzied cattle.
Dick, who had been thinking, suddenly wheeled, making a break for the supplies.
"Get a box of matches, each one of you!" he shouted. "Then sprint with me for that patch of sun-baked grass just north of us."
"What's the idea?" Dave asked, but Dick was already running fast.
"Get your matches and come on!" Dick called back over his shoulder.
As speedily as could be done the others followed suit. Dick reached the sun-burned strip of grass, whose nearer edge was some two hundred yards north of camp.
"Hey! He's starting a forest fire!" gasped Dan Dalzell, as he caught sight of young Prescott bending over the dried, yellowish grass.
"Scatter, all along the strip!" shouted Prescott, rising as soon as he had ignited a clump of grass. "Get this whole strip of burned grass blazing. It's the only chance to save the camp—-or ourselves!"
Dalzell shivered. Nor could Dan understand how such a course would serve to save their camp. But he saw the others following their leader's orders.
"Get over the ground, Dan!" bellowed Dick, as he sprinted to another point. "Start a lot of blazes!"
So Danny Grin fell in line with the movements of the others, though he felt not a little doubt as to the wisdom of the course.
Flame was now spurting up over more than an acre of the sun-baked strip of grass.
"Get a lot more of the grass going, fellows!" panted Dick, who was working like a beaver and dripping with perspiration. "It's our only hope. Hustle!"
With the flames arose a dense cloud of smoke. As the wind was from the southwest the smoke was in the faces of the onrushing cattle.
"There! We've done all we can!" bellowed Dick, running down the line formed by his chums. "Now, get back out of this roasting furnace."
Close to the edge of the burning strip of grass the six high school boys now stood side by side gazing at their work.
"We'd better scoot!" counseled Danny Grin.
"Where can we go?" Dick shouted, in order to make himself heard over the crackling flames and the greater noise of the pounding hoofs. "If we're not safe behind a curtain of flame, there is no other place near where we'd be safer."
Danny Grin turned to bolt, but Darry reached out, catching him by the collar and throwing him to the ground.
"Don't be a fool, Danny, and don't be panic stricken," Darrin advised. "We're safer here, at least, than we can be anywhere else within a quarter of a mile."
The bellow of a bull through the forest—-a bellow taken up by other bulls—-made all of the boys quake in their shoes. But none of the lads ran away.
Gazing between the trees they soon made out a stirring sight.
On came the stampede, cattle packed so tightly that any animal falling could only be trampled to death by those behind.
"My, but that's a grand sight!" cried Tom Reade.
Not one of the six boys but longed to take to his heels. To them it seemed absolutely impossible for the cattle to turn aside as they must dash on through the blazing grass, such was the pressure from behind. Yet not one of Dick & Co. turned to run.
Suddenly three of the bulls went down to their knees, snorting and bellowing furiously. Half a dozen cows held back from the flames, only to be trampled and killed.
Somehow, the powerful bulls staggered to their feet, then broke to one side.
A dozen more cows plunged on into the blazing grass, then sank, overcome by the heat.
It seemed like a miracle as, following the bulls, the herd split, some going east, others west, and carrying the swerving cattle after them in two frantic streams.
In some way that the boys could not understand, the pressure of cattle from the rear accommodated itself to the movement of the forepart of the herd. The herd divided now swept on rapidly, going nearly east and west in two sections.
Not until some six hundred crazy cattle had passed out of view did the boys feel like speaking. Indeed, they felt weak from the realization of the peril they had so narrowly escaped.
"I think, fellows," proposed Dave Darrin huskily at last, "that we owe a whopping big vote of thanks to good old Dick Prescott!"
"After we pass that vote," proposed Hazelton, "we'd better make all haste to get out of these woods before the owner of this stretch of forest comes along to nab the fellows who set his timber afire."
"Do you see any trees ablaze?" Dick demanded.
Now, for the first time, two or three of the fellows began to realize the value of Dick's idea. The sun-burned grass, some three acres in extent, was a clearing devoid of trees. Here the July heat had baked the turf. On all sides, under the trees beyond, the grass was still green. Any boy who has ever been in the country knows that green grass won't burn. Hence the blaze was limited to a small area. A few trees whose trunks were near the edge of the clearing were smoking slightly, but no damage was done to the timber. There was really no work to be done in extinguishing this fire, which, furious while it lasted, was now dying out.
"Let's get back and see how our camp fared," proposed Hazelton.
"We don't have to," Dick replied. "We saw the directions taken by the cattle, and they didn't go anywhere near our camp. Let's wait, and, as soon as the ground is cool enough, let's get out to the injured cows, and see if we can help any of them."
Hardly had Dick spoken when one of the cows, right at the edge of the blackened clearing, rose clumsily, then moved slowly northward. Presently another cow followed suit.
"We can get over the ground now," said Dick. "Let's go out and look at these animals."
They counted eight dead cows, their unwieldy carcasses lying motionless on the burned grass.
"Probably killed by the hot air that they drew into their lungs," commented Tom Reade.
"We killed the poor beasts," said Danny Grin, with a catch in his breath.
"Perhaps we did," Dick admitted. "But we had to do something. Anyhow, we broke the force of the stampede, and, if that hadn't been checked, a still greater number of cows would have been killed. They would have fallen, exhausted, and then they would have been trampled on and killed by the plunging cattle behind them."
"That's true enough," nodded Tom. "Even if we did kill a few,I guess we're more entitled to praise than reproach."
Two more cows presently got up and limped away, but there were four others still alive, yet too badly hurt to attend to themselves.
Nor could the high school boys help, further than by carrying buckets of water to the suffering animals. Dick & Co. had no firearms along, and could not put the injured cows out of their misery.
"Now, let's get out of here," urged Dick at last. "We can't do any good here, and this is no pleasant sight to gaze upon."
"It seems too bad to leave all this prime roast beef on the ground, doesn't it?" hinted Tom. "And we fellows have such good appetites."
"The cattle are not ours," Dick rejoined. "We have no right to help ourselves to any cuts of meat from the dead animals."
So they returned to the camp, which they found, of course, quite undisturbed.
It so happened that the four members of the party who had proposed going to other scenes for the forenoon forgot their projects.
Bang! bang! sounded in the direction of the burned-over clearing.
"Let's go over and see what that means," proposed Tom.
He jumped up, ready to sprint over to the clearing.
"If you want advice," Dick offered, "I'd say to wait until the shooting is over. You might stop a stray bullet not intended for us."
"But what can the shooting mean" wondered Greg.
"When anyone is turning bullets loose," remarked Darry, "I'm not too inquisitive."
So the boys waited until the firing had ceased. Then they heard what sounded like the noise of a horse moving through the brush.
"Hello, there!" called Dick.
"Hello, yourself!" came the answer, and a mounted man rode into view. He did not look especially ugly or dangerous; his garb was plainly intended for the saddle. As he came into sight the man slipped a heavy automatic revolver into a saddle holster.
"What was up?" inquired Dick, rising and going forward to meet the newcomer.
"Stampede," replied the other briefly.
"We know something about that," Dick rejoined.
"Do you know anything about the burning of the clearing?" asked the horseman, reining up and eyeing the lads keenly.
"Yes, sir; we fired the grass," Prescott acknowledged.
"To break the stampede?"
"No, sir; to save our camp, which would have been destroyed."
"Shake," invited the stranger, riding forward and bending over to hold out his hand. "Your fire cost us a few cattle, but I reckon it saved the destruction of a lot more, for there would have been many of 'em killed if they had charged on into the deeper forest."
"Then the stampede has been stopped?" asked Prescott.
"Yes; two of my men followed the parted trails, and came back to report the two herds halted and grazing. My name is Ross. I'm the owner of about a fourth of the cattle in the big herd."
"I hope you don't feel angry with us for doing the best we could to save our camp," Dick went on.
"You saved myself and the other owners a greater loss," repliedMr. Ross, "so I thank you."
"You're quite welcome, Mr. Ross," smiled Tom Reade. "But what was the shooting about?"
"I shot some of the cattle that appeared to be still alive, to put an end to their suffering. You boys haven't any ice here, have you?"
"No, sir," Dick replied.
"Too bad," said Mr. Ross. "If you had ice I could offer you a prime lot of beef that it will hardly pay me to move, as I can't get the animals cut up quickly enough and on ice, after the long haul I would have to make."
"Are you going to leave the cattle on the clearing?" Dick asked in sudden concern.
"We'll bury the carcasses," smiled Mr. Ross. "If we didn't the smell would soon force you boys to move your camp a mile or two. But see here! Ever have a barbecue?"
"No, sir," Dick made answer, his voice betraying sudden interest.
"Would you like one?" went on the owner. "A barbecue, real western style, with a whole cow on the fire?"
"It would be great!" answered nearly all of Dick & Co. in concert.
"Then we'll have one, as soon as I can call my men in," replied Mr. Ross cheerfully. "I'm bound to get some good out of the dead cattle."
"We'll want a lot of firewood for that, won't we?" asked Dick, his eyes gleaming.
"More than a little," nodded Mr. Ross. "And big wood, at that."
"Dave, you and Tom had better take the axes and get some real wood," Prescott called. "Harry and Dan will help you and bring it in. Where shall we put the wood, Mr. Ross?"
"In the middle of the burnt clearing will be better," replied the cattle owner. "Then the fire won't have a chance to spread in any direction. Besides, you won't want the heat of a great fire too close to your camp. After the meat is cooked we can bring it over here. Have you boys plenty of canned vegetables and the like?"
"Plenty, sir," Dick answered cheerily, though his heart sank a trifle as he thought of how the cattle owner and his helpers might clean out their stock.
Dick and Greg busied themselves with carrying over to the clearing such things as Mr. Ross said that they would need. Then it was decided that the vegetables should be cooked at the camp.
"Let me see your stock of provisions and perhaps I may get another idea," proposed the cattle owner. "I see that you have flour, and oh, yes; you have all that will be needed for a pudding, and one of my men knows how to make one of the best boiled puddings you ever ate out under the sky."
Drawing a small horn from one of his side pockets, Mr. Ross blew a long, shrill blast.
"Jim will come in as soon as possible, after hearing that sound," smiled the cattle owner.
Jim Hornby rode in within five minutes. He was a lean, long, roughened and reddened farm laborer, but when told that a boiled pudding was wanted he walked straight to the place where the supplies were kept.
"Everything here but berries," Jim explained. "Any of you boys know where to get some blueberries?"
Greg knew, and promptly departed with a pail.
Crackle! Crackle! Two brisk fires were now going in the burnt clearing, started by Dick at Mr. Ross' direction. By this time Mr. Ross' other helper had come in, reporting that the cattle were quiet and grazing, and now this helper and his employer began to remove the hide from one of the cows.
"This cow was overcome by smoke and hot air as soon as it rushed into the blaze," explained Mr. Ross. "Therefore, this will be safe meat to eat. When an animal, however, dies in pain, after much suffering, its flesh should never be used for food. Bill, now that we've gotten the hide off you mount and ride back to the wagon. Bring it along."
Dan and Harry were still bringing in heavy firewood and stacking it up, while the ring of axes in the hands of Dave and Tom was heard. It was a busy scene.
"Prescott, you'd better begin piling on the big wood now," suggestedMr. Ross, after noting the sun's position.
Things moved rapidly along.
"You might as well halt your wood cutters, unless you want their product for your own camp," suggested the cattle owner, and Prescott sent the word to stop chopping.
Within twenty minutes the big wagon, drawn by a pair of mules, came up with Bill Hopple driving and his horse tied to the tailboard.
With a speed and skill born of long practice, Mr. Ross began to cut up the carcass of the cow. Bill was busy making greenwood spits and arranging them over the two fires, Dan and Harry helping him.
Almost at a dead run came Greg Holmes through the woods, with two quarts of blueberries. Over at the camp, as soon as he saw the berries, Jim Hornby began mixing his pudding batter. He had already prepared his fire and had found a suitable kettle.
From watching the pudding game, Tom strolled through to the two fires in the clearing.
"This begins to look like a fine chance to eat," sighed Tom full of contentment.
"Doing anything, Reade?" inquired the cattle owner, who had quickly learned all their names.
"No, sir."
"Then suppose you take this heart of the cow over to your camp. Put it on the fire in a kettle of salted water, and let it boil slowly. By that means you will be able to serve up the heart for your evening meal."
"Is there no end to this cow?" gasped Tom.
"Well, a good-sized cow provides several hundred pounds of meat," replied Mr. Ross. "Oh, what a shame that you boys have no ice, and no way of getting it or keeping it! I could fix you for a month's supply of meat!"
"Dick, do you remember what we came out here in the woods for?" queried Tom.
"To camp, and have a good time," Prescott laughed. "And, so far, we win. We're having a bully time!"
"What else did we come out here for?"
"To harden and train ourselves so that we can make a hard try for the Gridley High School football eleven this fall."
"Will a week of training table undo the harm of to-day's big feasts?" groaned Reade.
"No fellow is obliged to make a glutton of himself," retortedDick.
"Maybe not," quoth Tom, "but everyone of us will be sorely tempted.You ought to see that pudding that Jim Hornby is putting up."
"Young man, are you going to get that heart to cooking before it goes bad in the sun?" asked Mr. Ross sharply.
Tom meekly turned and started toward camp.
"What's Greg doing?" Dick called after him.
"Holmesy is watching, learning the way Jim Hornby puts up a boiled pudding," Reade called back.
Honk! honk! sounded an automobile horn from the rough trail of a roadway an eighth of a mile away. The honking continued until Dick, realizing that it was a signal, gave a loud halloo.
"Is that Prescott's camp?" called a voice.
"It's the camp of Prescott and his friends," Dick shouted back.
"Get ready for visitors, then!" called the voice again, and this time Dick recognized the voice as that of Dr. Bentley.
"We won't eat you out of supplies, though," called the doctor, now heading through the forest. "We're bringing with us our own cold lunch."
"Cold lunch!" Dick chuckled back. "You won't be able to eat it after you see what we have!"
Through the trees now the fluttering of skirts could be seen. High school girls were on their way to share the barbecue, though as yet they did not know of the treat in store for them.