"One hundred and twenty-five dollars!" groaned Tad.
"It's outrageous," muttered Professor Zepplin.
"Squire, there's a little matter of three dollars and a half for board of the young man at my house that I reckon you've forgotten to figure in," reminded Jed Whitman.
"I will take account of that," answered the justice, making a calculation on the table-top. "The total figure will be one hundred twenty-eight dollars and fifty cents," he announced.
Chunky turned a smiling face towards the Professor.
"Professor, can you cross my palm for one-twenty-eight fifty?" he asked. "I don't have the amount with me at the moment."
The Pony Rider Boys gazed at each other with troubled eyes.
"Sir, will you permit us to retire to another room to talk this matter over?" asked the Professor.
"Yes, but be brief. I can't afford to waste more time on this case. Mr. Whitman, will you conduct the prisoner and his friends to the back room? You will be responsible for Brown. See to it that he doesn't get away."
The party filed solemnly into the back room, which proved to be a store-room. There were empty cases, an old drum stove and a lot of rubbish, but no chairs. The boys sat down on the boxes, and fixed their eyes expectantly on Professor Zepplin.
"Thank goodness that business is over," exclaimed Stacy Brown.
"Young man, don't be in too great a hurry to congratulate yourself. The 'business' may not be ended. That remains to be seen," said the Professor.
"Wha—what do you mean?" questioned Stacy apprehensively.
"We have to pay the fiddler first. Let us see if we are going to be able to do so."
Professor Zepplin thrust a hand under his outside belt, drawing from his money belt a small package of folded bills. These he counted in the faint light from a dirty window. He counted the bills over a second time, then a third, growing more agitated with each count.
"Haven't you enough?" asked Tad, stepping over to the Professor.
"I have only seventy-five dollars," answered the Professor.
"I have some money," offered Tad.
"How much?"
Tad emptied his pockets with the result that he was able to hand over fifteen dollars.
"That leaves a balance of thirty-eight dollars to be raised," announced the Professor.
"And fifty cents," added Ned. "I think I may be able to scrape up a few dollars."
"So can I," added Walter Perkins.
Between them they were able to make the sum total one hundred dollars, leaving twenty-eight dollars and fifty cents still to be raised. The boys groaned.
"There is one way out of it," spoke up Tad.
"What is that?" questioned the Professor, brightening.
"Let Stacy go to jail," answered Butler.
"I—I don't want to go to jail. I won't go to jail," wailed the fat boy indignantly.
"You will unless we can raise the money," answered the Professor sternly. "Were it not for the disgrace of it, I should be in favor of letting you do that very thing. It might teach you a useful lesson."
"I don't need the lesson. How would you like that kind of a lesson?" demanded Chunky belligerently.
"Like yourself I hardly think I need it," grinned the Professor.
"Wait," said Tad. "I will see what I can do." Stepping to the door he called Jed Whitman.
"Mr. Whitman," said Tad, "We find ourselves rather hard pressed for money just now. You see, we had not looked for anything of this sort."
"How much have you?" asked the Warden.
"We have a hundred dollars. If you will trust us for the balance we give you our word that it will be sent as soon as we can get our next remittance from home."
"Can't do it," replied Jed, with an emphatic shake of the head.
"Oh, yes you can. You only think you can't. Nothing is impossible."
"If that's so, then you git out and raise the money," grinned the game Warden.
Even this did not stop Tad Butler. The freckles were glowing on Tad's flushed face, but the boy was not in the least disconcerted.
"Please ask the justice if he will trust us for the balance, provided we pay him a hundred dollars?"
Whitman considered briefly, then stepped out into the other room. He returned very shortly with the information that Squire Halliday said the entire amount must be paid or the accused would have to go to jail. Stacy would be sent down to Bangor that very day.
"If he is, there will be all uproar in this town that will be heard all the way down the line, ending in the governor's mansion," warned Tad Butler significantly.
"Say, young fellow, what are you getting at?" demanded Whitman.
"A settlement of this business. We have a hundred dollars, the full amount of the outrageous fine imposed upon Stacy Brown. We have offered to make good the costs as soon as we can get a remittance from home. But I have a proposal to make to you."
"What is it?"
"We will pay the money, the fine, turning over one of our ponies to you to be held as security until our remittance gets here from home. If you will take my advice you will make this deal with Squire What's-His-Name and give Brown his discharge."
Once more the warden considered, pondering over all that Tad Butler had said to him. Perhaps these boys might raise an unpleasant rumpus at headquarters. Yes, there could be no harm in accepting the proposition provided the squire were willing. It seemed that the squire was open to argument as presented by Jed Whitman, and the latter returned quickly with the welcome information that Tad's proposal had been accepted.
"Make out a receipt for the hundred," he said.
"Tad, you are a much better businessman than am I," approved the Professor.
"Am I free?" asked Stacy.
"For the present," answered Tad. "We are going to turn your pony over to Mr. Whitman to hold until we can pay the rest of the money."
"Give my pony to him?" cried the fat boy. "No, you don't! I guess I won't let you do that—not if I am able to fight. That pony stays with me, and don't you forget it."
"Chunky, now don't you get excited. You might get something you wouldn't like."
"You threatening me?" demanded Stacy belligerently.
"You know I am not. It is a question of your doing as you are told, or of accompanying Mr. Whitman to jail. Which shall it be?"
"I don't want to go to jail, but I want my pony."
"You are the most unreasonable boy I ever knew. But we won't argue it."
"Why don't you let him have your horse!" demanded Stacy.
"I would if it were my case. You got into this difficulty. You must do your share towards getting out of it. Wait, I will give Mr. Whitman an order for the pony."
This done, Jed strode away through the village, and the boys filed out from the office of the justice of the peace. The villagers had departed, leaving Squire Halliday alone in his office. He did not even look up when the party passed through his room. Stacy halted when they reached the street.
"I guess I'll go into the hotel and get some breakfast now. I haven't had anything to eat this morning."
"Have you the price?" questioned Tad.
"No, I guess you will cross my palm for my breakfast, won't you?"
"I guess not," answered Butler with emphasis. "I haven't a cent."
"But I'm hungry. I want something to eat."
"I have ten cents," announced Walter. "Stacy may have that if he wants it."
"Let me have it," commanded Tad. "I don't dare trust him with all that money for fear he will overload his stomach. You walk on, Stacy, while I get something for you."
Tad returned with two sandwiches, which Stacy snatched from his hand, and, sitting right down on the edge of the boardwalk, he began greedily devouring them.
"Where do we come in on the eat question?" demanded Rector.
"We don't come in," replied Tad. "We shall have to fast until we get a remittance from home."
"Isn't there anything to eat in the camp?"
"Coffee and about enough other stuff to take care of Charlie John. He mustn't know what a predicament we are in."
"How—how long have we got to fast?" stammered Walter.
"I should say about a week, perhaps a little longer," answered Tad Butler, with a mirthless smile.
A groan went up from the Pony Rider Boys.
"That means we shall all starve to death," growled Ned Rector. "We can't stand it. I'm going to look for a job."
"A fine mess you have gotten us into, Stacy Brown," complained Walter.
The Professor cleared his throat. His opportunity was at hand.
"Stacy, I wish you to come here—in fact, I wish you boys to listen to what I have to say."
The Professor's face wore a grave expression as the boys gathered about him.
"Now, Stacy," began Professor Zepplin not unkindly, "I have been much concerned for some time over your wicked habit of exaggerating—or to put it more bluntly—your habit of lying."
"Why, Professor, I—" began Stacy.
The Professor raised a hand for silence.
"None of us believed you told the exact truth about killing the moose. It is doubtful if you have yet told the whole truth concerning it. You can see one evil effect of your falsehoods in the bitter experience we have just gone through. I have no doubt that if you had simply said that you killed the animal in self-defense and explained exactly how you did it, you would have been free of any fine. Besides, had we not been here, you would have gone to jail. Still, the trouble you have put us to is a trifle when compared to the evil you are doing. You may think these exaggerations are all very funny, and, while I don't believe you intended to do any harm, you must remember that a lie is a lie. Give up this abominable habit, Stacy. That is all I have to say at present. Next time I probably shall act, and with less consideration for your feelings," finished the Professor.
For the moment Stacy Brown seemed impressed, and nodded as if he were resolved to break his bad habit, but none of his companions believed the resolution would be very long remembered by the fat boy. Stacy's companions were right in their estimate of him.
By this time Jed Whitman had been to the camp and taken away Stacy's pony.
Before leaving the village, Professor Zepplin, without going into details, had written to Banker Perkins that they found themselves unexpectedly short of funds, and urging that the next remittance be speeded eastward.
"My pony gone!" wailed Stacy, upon discovering his loss. "Oh, why didn't one of you other fellows save me by giving up your pony instead? I can't walk."
"Cheer up," laughed Tad. "The worst is yet to come for you, Chunky. Do you realize that we haven't a penny left, and that we've no credit in this town? We can't eat until Mr. Perkins' remittance arrives—after a few days."
"Can't eat?" gasped Stacy, his face paling a little. "I won't stand that."
"Hurrah!" cheered Ned Rector. "Chunky is going to save us! He's going to find food for us. We shall eat—right away!"
"Now, you fellows know I can't do anything," uttered young Brown reproachfully. "But some of you ought to have the brains to find a way to get food."
Tad and Ned whispered apart, then announced that they were going to the village.
"Bring back half a dozen big steaks," Stacy called after them.
Tad and Ned trudged on into town. There they found an opportunity to saw and split a large pile of wood for fifty cents. That was a fearfully close bargain, as they knew very well, but the Pony Rider Boys needed food, and so did their companions. They took the job, spent perspiring hours over it, then collected their money, and invested it in a fairly large piece of bacon, to the delight of Stacy Brown and the keen satisfaction of the Professor.
"We have a big job tomorrow for which we are going to get a dollar and a half," announced Tad. "Stacy will have to go along and help."
"What doing?" demanded the fat boy.
"Cutting wood."
"No, sir! You forget that I have a weak heart. I might drop dead," objected the fat boy.
"Then we shouldn't have to pay the costs for you again. Professor, don't you think it would be bad for Stacy's weak heart if he were to fill up on this bacon?" asked Tad.
"Wha—what? Don't I get any supper?" cried the boy.
"You most certainly do not. If you are too weak in your heart to help cut up a little wood you are too weak to eat. That's flat. Go to bed," urged Tad.
"I—I'll work. I'll cut the wood, but if I die it will be your fault. I don't care much what becomes of me now. I want my supper."
"Professor, with your permission, we will give him a small slice of bacon," said Tad. "If it has no bad effect on him, we will give him another, a very thin slice, just before he turns in for the night."
The Professor gave permission gravely. The supper was cooked, and it did smell good to those hungry boys as they sat down to their scanty meal. Tad, with great care, chose the thinnest slice on the platter, which he handed to Chunky.
"Now bite off just a nibble at a time and chew it slowly," cautioned Tad.
"I won't. I'll swallow it whole."
Ned snatched the bacon from Stacy, whereat the fat boy sprang up and squared off for trouble.
"Sit down, young man!" commanded the Professor. "No unseemly conduct."
"If you will agree to eat as you should, you may have the bacon," said Tad.
Stacy was now in a frame of mind to agree to anything, if by so doing he could get something to eat. They warned him to take forty chews on every mouthful, under penalty of having the bacon taken away from him if he failed to do as he was ordered.
Stacy chewed dolefully, rolling his eyes from one to another of them during the chewing. He never had realized how far a thin slice of bacon would go if properly chewed. Stacy was ready for more after having made away with this piece, but the boys were firm. He could have no more until bedtime, when he would get a cold slice if he were still alive.
In the morning the fat boy got two slices of bacon, but was obliged to chew them in the same way as before. These two slices with a cup of coffee made up his breakfast. When they were ready to start for work, Stacy required some urging and a little force to him to go along. Walter Perkins insisted on accompanying them and doing his share of the work.
Something like an hour later four boys might have been observed in a vacant lot in the village hard at work. Walter Perkins and Chunky Brown were using a crosscut saw, while Tad and Ned were wielding axes, making the sticks fairly fly from the sharp blades.
A few hours later a horseman came riding slowly down the street. As he drew nearer he brushed a hand across his eyes, looked, then shading his eyes looked again.
"Great Smoke! What does this mean?" he exclaimed, gazing at the busy workers with wondering eyes. Clucking to his horse he jogged along, but the boys did not see him, so busy were they at their work, until he had ridden over into the lot and was almost upon them.
"Mr. Vaughn!" cried Walter.
"Hurrah!" shouted Ned Rector. "Here's the guide come back. I never was so glad to see anyone in my life."
Tad, at the first call, looked; then, dropping his axe, he ran to the guide and grasped his hand, while two boys were tugging at the other hand on the opposite side of the horse.
"How is your foot?" asked Ned.
"It is better."
"Why did you come here? You didn't hope to find us in this place, did you!" questioned Tad shrewdly.
"To tell the truth, I did," answered Cale.
"Then you heard?"
"I heard last night that they had Mr. Stacy in limbo for killing that moose, so I started out right away. I rode most of the night from my home and I'm here. How did you get off?"
"Stacy was fined one hundred dollars and costs, Mr. Vaughn. The costs amounted to twenty-eight dollars and a half. What do you think of that?"
"What does this mean?" demanded Cale when the two were out of range of the others.
"Oh, we are filling in a little time," answered Tad carelessly.
"You are sure that is all?"
"All I care to speak about."
"Where shall I find Professor Zepplin?"
"He is at the camp. You go down this street till you come to the hotel. There you turn to the left and go to the end of the road. The camp is straight ahead from that."
"I reckon you had better go with me."
"I can't do that. You see I have agreed to do this job here," replied the freckle-faced boy, flushing under the keen gaze of the guide.
"So that's the trouble, is it?"
"I don't know what you mean, sir?"
"Yes you do. You know it took all the money you folks had to settle that fine, and that you are trying to earn some money to keep you going till you hear from home."
"Stacy's pony is in pawn for twenty-eight dollars and fifty cents. Jed Whitman is holding it for costs and to save Chunky from going to the Bangor jail."
"Why didn't you say so before?" Cale demanded. "I want you to come with me at once."
Tad demurred, but the guide insisted. Vaughn rode straight down the street until he came to the bank, where Tad assisted him to dismount. Rather to Tad's amazement Cale entered the bank, and greeted the cashier cordially.
"Joe, I want some money."
"All right, Cale. How much?"
"I reckon about two hundred will do me today."
"Sure thing. How long do you want it for?"
"Till I come this way again. Maybe a week, maybe a month. Make out the note for thirty days. I shall probably pay it before that."
"That is an easy way to get money," gasped Tad.
"For some folks. Here, take this and get your pony out of pawn, settle your bills and get ready to move. I see I've got to go along with you boys. I should never have left you, broken bones or no broken bones. Go on now and fix that matter up. Not a word. You may pay me back when you get your remittance."
It was a happy lot of boys that gathered in the camp of the Pony Rider Boys that night. They sat down to a full meal once more, and Stacy Brown's "weak heart" was forgotten in the general good cheer.
After supper the question of their future movements came up for discussion. Cale decided that if the others were agreeable, the main party had better move on to the woods, leaving someone there to bring the money when the remittance should have arrived from home.
Professor Zepplin suggested that Charlie John might stay in town to wait for the money, but Cale did not like the idea. He asked Tad how he would like the job.
"Fine," glowed the freckle-faced boy.
"But how could he find us?" protested Professor Zepplin.
"The same as any good woodsman would. Follow the trail."
"I'll stay with him. If he can't find the trail, I can," spoke up Chunky.
"I pity Tad if you remain with him," answered Rector.
"I will blaze the trail so they can't miss it, Professor. We shall have three or four days for exploration before Butler and Brown get in, then we will move on. By the way, Master Tad, when you get your money you might drop into the bank and take up that note if you wish. If it is going to make you short, of course the note may stand until I get back."
"Take it up, by all means," ordered the Professor. "The favor has been a big one to us. We shall never forget it."
"Then you are going to take a new trail from here?" asked Tad.
"Yes. We will follow the trail you took in coming in here for, say five miles, after which we shall branch off. You will find the turning-off place clearly marked."
"Oh, I will see that he doesn't get lost," declared Chunky. "You leave it all to me."
"Yes, if you are looking for trouble, leave it to Chunky," retorted Ned.
The plans were laid in detail that night. At daybreak on the following morning Tad Butler and Stacy Brown saw their companions riding away. The two boys watched them until the party had disappeared, all waving their hats at the lads who had been left behind.
"Now, Chunky, you are in my charge. If you don't behave yourself, I shall be under the painful necessity of giving you a thrashing."
"You bet it will be painful for you if you try it," retorted the fat boy.
"I certainly shall try it if you give me cause. See if you can't act like other folks."
"I don't want to be like other folks. I'm satisfied to be Stacy Brown."
"I reckon you will be that as long as you live. And there's only one Stacy," answered Tad laughingly. "But remember, you are not in favor with Squire Halliday," warned the boy.
It was four days after the departure of their companions when the remittance came, Banker Perkins having wired to a bank in Bangor to hasten funds to the boys at Matungamook, thus saving at least two days for them. Tad cashed the draft at the bank and took up Cale Vaughn's note as arranged, after which the boys packed their kits and set out for the trail into the wilderness.
Neither boy was at all apprehensive about his ability to find the way. Tad knew that he should find the trail plainly marked, and he did. Along about noon they found the point where the two trails diverged and halted there for a bit to eat, and to give their ponies a rest.
The journey to the place where the others were to camp was fully thirty miles farther in. It was a long jaunt for two boys, but Vaughn had perfect confidence in Tad's ability to follow the trail.
After resting for an hour the boys continued until night. They made camp before dark, building a fire and constructing a small lean-to, not having their tents with them. They were as handy at taking care of themselves as if they had been in the woods all of their lives. Stacy Brown appeared to have turned over a new leaf. He worked like a good fellow. There was now no toil about the camp too hard for the fat boy.
They lay down to sleep early in the evening after piling plenty of wood on the fire, and slept soundly until daybreak. A quick breakfast and they were off.
"There is the trail," said Stacy, pointing a blaze on a big spruce.
Tad glanced about him inquiringly before starting. He saw that the blazed trail took a bend at that point, branching off to the right a little. This did not arouse any suspicion in his mind, for he did not know the route taken by Cale Vaughn, depending wholly on the blazes and other trail marks.
All that day they continued on their journey. Tad decided that they should reach the camp early on the following forenoon.
Instead of reaching the camp in the morning, the following night found them still following the trail. Tad was somewhat troubled when they made camp that night. Still, the camp might be much farther from town than Cale had thought. The boys consulted and decided to go on.
That night they found a campfire, or rather the remains of one. The fire was two or three days old and the small greens were trampled down about the place as if quite a party had camped there. This encouraged the boys, and next morning they went on with renewed courage. They kept on going until the morning of the fourth day when the trail brought up abruptly at the side of a small lake. There it ended.
"Well, we seem to be in something of a quandary, Chunky," said Tad.
"It looks that way. What are you going to do?"
"Follow the shore of the lake around until I find the trail again," answered Butler confidently. "They must have landed somewhere. It looks to me as if they had swum their horses over, though I don't see any hoof-marks on the shore. That is what puzzles me."
"Giddap," said Stacy in answer. The boys started to encircle the lake. In order to do so, they were obliged to work back into the forest some distance at one point, traveling more than a mile in what they supposed was a direction parallel to the lake.
At last they came out on the shore again, and Tad gazed in amazement.
"Stacy," he said, "do you see anything peculiar about this body of water?"
"Well," answered the fat boy wisely, "it appears to have shrunk some since we saw it last."
"That is what I think. There is something peculiar about it. It doesn't look to me like the same body of water."
"Oh, yes it is. It's the same old pond."
"Then we will complete our circuit of it if we can. Wouldn't it be funny if we got lost?"
"Not to me, it wouldn't. I can get along without that."
The boys had got around to the opposite side of the lake when Tad cried out joyously.
"There's a blaze," pointing to a tree from which the bark had been cut.
"I see it," answered Stacy. "They think they are playing a mighty smart trick on us, don't they?"
"It looks that way."
We're Lost!"We're Lost!"
We're Lost!"We're Lost!"
With light hearts the boys started on the new trail. It proved an easy one to follow, though they had begun to wonder if they ever were going to reach their destination. By the sun Butler kept the general direction in which they were traveling pretty well in mind. He did not think for a moment that he was on the wrong trail.
As a matter of fact another party had, in the meantime, followed the trail from the village, taking Cale's blazes to the point where they eventually turned off. It was this branch made by the strange party that Tad and Stacy had followed to the first lake. They were many, many miles from the camp of their fellows. What was still worse, they were now on yet another trail, a trail all of a year old. After a time that trail, too, ended abruptly. In trying to pick it up, or its continuation, the boys lost it altogether, nor did they find it again. Tad called a halt and getting from his pony sat down on a log.
"Are we lost?" asked Chunky solemnly.
"We are," answered Tad with equal solemnity.
Tad Butler had often heard it said that a lost man was an insane man. He had laughed at this as he had laughed at the stories of men who have been lost for no longer than twenty-four hours, and who had come out gibbering idiots. Now for the first time the Pony Rider Boy began to realize what it meant to be lost. That feeling of utter isolation, of aloneness, of doubt whether they ever would find their way out, took possession of him and for the moment a panic threatened Tad Butler.
Then he recalled the advice given by Cale Vaughn: "If you get lost sit down and think it over. Don't run."
Tadwasthinking it over. At last he said:
"Stacy, we got on the wrong trail somewhere. I have an idea it was not long after leaving town."
Chunky nodded his head slowly.
A strange feature of the situation impressed itself upon Tad at this particular juncture. He was unable to tell his position from the sun. He could not have told whether the sun was in the East, West, North or South, and his compass proved absolutely useless. He was interrupted in his thoughts by the voice of Stacy Brown.
"We haven't enough grub for more than one more meal."
"We may have to rustle," added Tad, "but I have confidence enough in myself to believe that we shall not starve to death."
Having recovered his mental balance, Tad decided that it was time to do something, so he took careful note of the lay of the land about him, the character of the trees and shrubs, the drainage, and other features that might prove of use to him later on.
His next task was to blaze a tree. He made a conspicuous blaze on four sides of a large pine, a blaze that might be seen for some distance in either direction.
"Why are you doing that?" questioned the fat boy.
"We shall know it when we see it again. Furthermore, it will be of use to any person who may chance to be looking for us. I am going to stick like a brother to that blazed tree until I find a better place. Unpack and help me make camp."
Chunky got down slowly. He was much less disturbed than Tad would have expected.
"I will make a lean-to while you are getting the camp in shape. Wait!" Tad's voice was sharp, causing Stacy to halt suddenly. "I hear water. There is a stream near here. Yes, there it is. Hurrah!"
"I don't see anything in a little stream of water to get excited about," declared the fat boy.
"I do. It means there is a larger body of water somewhere hereabouts. You take the ponies and follow me. I am going to blaze a way down that stream for a piece anyway and see where it leads. We can't be any worse off farther down than we are here, and perhaps we may be able to better ourselves materially."
Tad, hatchet in hand, started for the creek. He turned downstream after satisfying himself which was downstream, followed slowly by Stacy. Butler blazed the way, turning down bushes, marking trees with conspicuous chops clear through the bark to the white of the wood itself, so that there might be no difficulty in finding their way back in case they desired to do so. To Tad's satisfaction they soon came out on the shore of a lake, or rather a pond it was in size. This pond gave them an open space, taking away in a measure that shut-in feeling that had so oppressed them under the tall pines.
"Here is the place for the camp, Stacy," announced Tad joyously. "What better could a man ask for a summer resort?"
"No, this isn't so bad," admitted the fat boy. "Where do you want the camp?"
"In a little way from the shore. We might as well make it permanent, for we may be here some time."
In the meantime Tad was industriously chopping away, cutting down small trees for the lean-to. A busy two hours followed. Stacy got the browse together for the beds. Tad chopped down a larger tree for the bed pieces of their fireplace, and, by the time they had finished, the day was drawing to a close. They had not finished any too soon, but they had constructed as neat and practical a camp as ever grew under the skilled hands of an old woodsman. Tad was justly proud of their efforts.
Supper was not a bounteous meal and neither lad overloaded his stomach, but the boys were cheerful and the ponies content, for there was plenty for the animals to eat. Tad had gotten in a great pile of poles for night-wood, so that they were pretty well supplied with everything except food.
Chunky dropped asleep on his browse bed under the comforting warmth of the fire soon after supper, in fact before Tad had finished with the supper work, which was not very arduous, the boys having only a few tin dishes that hung suspended from their saddles. They had their rifles, revolvers and hunting knives, all of which might prove useful in their present predicament.
Tad sat down by the fire to think. He sat long, going over all the possibilities of their case, figuring on the probabilities of their being found. Tad knew that Cale Vaughn would never rest until he had found them, once the guide knew that the two boys were lost, so Butler decided that his wisest course would be to remain where he was, skirmish for food, and try to content himself and his comrade until help arrived.
A crashing sound brought him to his feet. The sound was unlike any he had ever heard before. Tad's first impulse was to run, then, pulling himself sharply together, he stood listening.
"Oh, pshaw, it's a big tree falling," he muttered.
The ponies, too, had been startled. They were snorting and stamping. Tad's voice quieted them.
"If this thing keeps on I am sure to have an attack of nerves. I am ashamed of myself—Great Scott, what is that?"
"Oh, wow!" howled Chunky, leaping from his browse bed, standing wide-eyed at the opening of the lean-to. "What was that?"
"I—I don't know," stammered Tad. "I—I never heard so many crazy sounds in all my life. I have heard that a night in the jungle was terrifying, but I don't believe it can be any worse than this."
"There it goes again," cried Chunky.
"Ugh-ugh-ugh, oo-oo-oo—o-o-o-o!"
The forest seemed to be full of the "ugh-oos." The Pony Rider Boys gazed into each other's faces. Stacy Brown's teeth were chattering. Again that terrifying roar.
"Wha—what is it?" gasped Chunky.
"I—I don't know," whispered Tad. "I—I never heard the like of it. It is getting nearer, too."
Tad snatched up his rifle.
"Get ready for trouble, Chunky," shouted the freckle-faced boy, the freckles standing out in blotches on his face, the latter now pale but resolute.
A new crashing in the bushes off to the right of them caused Tad to swing about in that direction, peering apprehensively, not knowing what to expect.
"Ugh-ugh-ugh, oo-oo-ooo—o-o-o-o!"
Stacy Brown uttered a yell, for it seemed to him that the ground had shaken under his feet with that terrible roar. Stacy bolted.
"Don't run! You'll get lost!" shouted Tad.
There was no stopping the fat boy now. Fortunately Chunky did not get far. The plunging ponies sent him off in another direction, the little animals in their fear settling back on their haunches until they broke their tethers, after which they plunged away into the forest.
Tad did not have much time to think. A bellowing roar sounded almost under foot, it seemed, then suddenly a great hulk came into view. It was then that Tad understood. It was a giant moose that had been calling for its mates.
The instant the animal set eyes on the Pony Rider Boy its anger seemed to be aroused. With a bellow the animal started for him. Tad fired from the hip. He had no time to take careful aim. As it was, his bullet nearly put an end to the moose, for the leaden missile bored a hole through one of the big ears. The boy fired again, but he was too late. The moose charged into the camp with a terrifying roar. Tad leaped aside as the beast cleared the camp-fire and went crashing into the lean-to, and, as he leaped, Butler's rifle was knocked from his hands.
Springing as far up a small tree as he could the Pony Rider Boy climbed as he had never climbed before. He was breathing hard, though holding himself under perfect control.
In the meantime the moose was working havoc with the camp below. The lean-to was razed to the ground in a twinkling. The great antlers were driving in here and there; browse beds went up into the air, while the beast stamped and raged, now and again uttering its weird "Ugh, ugh, ugh!"
Tad Butler had never experienced anything quite so terrifying. Yet he found himself wondering how long he would be able to cling to the tree in case the animal decided to stay in the camp. But the moose soon solved this problem for him. The beast, after threshing and tearing about until it had vented its rage, suddenly bounded away toward the beach. Tad heard the huge beast leap into the lake with a mighty splash.
The boy slid to the ground and ran to the water's edge, first having picked up his rifle, and sent a volley of shots after the moose, but he did not know whether or not any of them reached the mark. Tad's thoughts turned to his companion.
"Oh, Stacy!" he called.
"Hello," answered a voice that seemed to come from the air overhead.
Tad looked up. He saw the scared face of his companion peering down at him from a low tree.
"Come down. The fun is all over."
Stacy clambered part of the way down, then paused.
"Has he gone, sure?"
"Yes, he is on the other side of the lake by this time. Look at this camp," said Tad, surveying the remains ruefully.
"It isn't a camp; it's a hodge-podge."
"I agree with you. Let's get the fire going the first thing we do. I am afraid we shan't get much sleep tonight. By the way, you had better look to those ponies," advised Butler.
"I—I don't want to."
"Why not?"
"I guess I'm afraid."
"Pooh!"
"They're gone!" yelled the fat boy a couple of minutes later. "They have broken away."
Tad was at first startled at this announcement, but he took tight hold of himself, steadied himself, and after a moment or so had his emotions well in hand.
"Help me set the camp to rights," he said calmly.
"You aren't going to stay here, are you?"
"Of course. Where else should we go?"
"But the big, big moose may come back," protested Stacy, his teeth chattering.
"He is just as likely to call at some other place. I hardly think he will pay us another visit."
"Say, Tad."
"What?"
"It just occurs to me. What a lucky thing for you it is that you didn't kill that—that fellow."
"Why?"
"Old Halliday would have sent you to jail for life if you had."
"I am not worrying about what the squire might do to me," laughed Butler. "I have more important matters to occupy my mind just now. Come, Chunky, get busy."
"What are you going to do about those ponies?"
"Nothing. At least, not now. We can do nothing until daylight, and perhaps not then. Do you see what has occurred?"
"I see a lot that has occurred," answered Stacy.
"Our dishes are gone, smashed so we shan't be able to use them again."
Stacy groaned.
"I knew something would come along to put the finishing touches on. Now what are we going to do?" he demanded.
"I don't know. I shall plan out something if we are let alone long enough."
The boys got to work at once. They toiled with a will, chopping in the light of the campfire, dragging logs, saplings and browse into the camp, making every move count, Stacy doing his part manfully.
In another hour they had made a second camp. Of course, it was not as complete as the first camp had been, but it proved to be an excellent piece of woodcraft by the time they decided to stop work for the night. Tad induced Stacy to turn in while he himself sat up to be ready in case of a return of their visitor.
The problem over which the Pony Rider Boy was now working was how to replace their ruined cooking outfit. He could get along very well with everything except boiling his water. Tad pondered and pondered over this, trying to recall something he had learned from Mr. Vaughn. After a time it came to him.
"I've got it!" exclaimed the boy. Grabbing up his hatchet he darted out towards the lake front.
Finding a birch tree, of which he was in search, Butler peeled off a long, thin sheet of bark, free from either knots or "eyes." From this he constructed a trough-shaped bucket after several clumsy attempts, in which he nearly ruined his material. The folds of this bucket were pinned together with green twigs, below what was to be the water line. This simple affair being completed Tad raked a bed of coals from the fire, placing the bucket on them after he had taken it down to the lake and filled it with water.
The Pony Rider Boy sat squatting in front of the bucket observing it eagerly. His patience was rewarded within five minutes. The water in the bucket began to boil.
"I guess we will have our coffee in the morning," he chuckled triumphantly. "But I forgot; we have no coffee pot. I don't see why I can't make one in the same way." Tad did. It was not a handsome pot, but it was almost worth its weight in gold to the two boys.
Stacy, on getting up that morning, saw the water boiling merrily on a bed of hot coals. He eyed the contrivance curiously.
"What do you call that thing?" he demanded.
"That, sir, is my patent water boiler."
"Oh!"
"What did you think it was?"
"I thought it was a steam engine. I didn't know but you were going to start a sawmill out here. Good place for one, isn't it?"
"There is plenty of material here," nodded Tad.
"Say, what are you doing?" demanded the fat boy, peering, craning his neck at Tad who was busily engaged with his back turned towards his companion.
"I am getting breakfast."
"Yes, but your motions are suspicious. That's the way my aunt acts when she is cleaning fish."
"Iamcleaning fish."
"What?"
"Look!"
Tad held up for the inspection of the fat boy a handsome speckled trout, fully twelve inches long. Stacy threw a hand to his eyes.
"Don't! Don't! I can't stand it to be tortured this way!"
"What's the matter with you?" demanded Tad sharply.
"Don't torture me by playing such ghastly jokes on my appetite," begged Chunky.
"You must be crazy. This is a trout that I caught this morning from the lake, with a rig I made. There are two apiece. If two of these fat fellows don't satisfy your appetite I don't know what will."
"Yeow!" howled Chunky.
"Stop your nonsense. Go get two nice hard-wood sticks about two feet long, and a half inch thick. Peel them and give them to me."
"What are you going to do?"
"Oh, don't ask so many questions, unless you don't care about breakfast."
"Don't care about breakfast?" fairly shrieked the fat boy. "I'd sell my shirt for a full meal right now."
"I will let you off cheaper than that," laughed Butler. "Dump some coffee into the coffee pot. You know how much to put in. What about those sticks?"
Stacy having brought the sticks, Tad sharpened them; then, spitting a trout on each, held the fish over the glowing bed of coals that he had massed for the purpose. The red and blue of the trout began slowly turning to a rich brown, and a savory odor, almost maddening to the hungry Stacy Brown, filled the air.
"You will have to get along without salt this morning. I'm going to make some as soon as I can get to it," promised Tad.
"Never mind the salt. Hurry! How are you going to make salt?"
"Mr. Vaughn says that the Indians use the ashes of hickory bark as a substitute for salt, and that it is fine. To obtain the ash he says the stem and leaves are first rolled up into balls while green, and, after being carefully dried, are placed on a very small fire on a rock and burned."
"Huh! I am mighty glad you aren't going to stop to make salt before breakfast," answered Chunky. "Give me that trout."
"It isn't done yet."
"I can't help that. Give it to me."
"Oh, if you want to be a wild animal, why dip in."
Chunky did. He devoured the fish, bones and all, though he did decide not to eat the head. He ate the other end, though. While Stacy was thus enjoying himself, Butler cooked the other fish. By that time the coffee was ready and the two lost boys sat down to their breakfast, while the forest resounded with the shrill "ah, te-te, te-te, te" of the white-throated sparrow, the songs of the chickadee and blue-jay, the thrumming of the pigeon woodpecker, the cries of the whistler-duck and the scream of the fish-hawk and the eagle.