CHAPTER V
AN EXPLORING TRIP
After breakfast next morning the “Gray Gull” was run closer inshore. A favorable spot for anchorage was found, doing away with the necessity for using the dory. Each boy was able to leap across to a jutting point. Then, jolly and enthusiastic, they began to walk along the shore.
Often they stopped to gaze upward at the gigantic cliffs, or to admire the masses of rich green vegetation or broad expanse of river, now a greenish-gray, for the sun was hidden.
Around a bend they saw a cabin built at the base of the cliff.
“That must be it,” said Bob.
“Hooray!” cried Tom. “Say, fellows, I like that chap, Redfern.”
“But what a funny idea, living out here, all alone,” commented Fred.
“Oh, I don’t know. I was always going todo something of the kind, myself,” said Joe, and the others laughed in such a lively fashion that it brought the occupant of the cabin to the door.
“Welcome, boys,” he said, with a smile. “Come in and make yourselves at home.”
So the boys trooped in, took seats on anything they could find, and looked about with interest.
In one corner a bunk was fastened against the wall. In another, a shelf contained several books, which Dave and Fred immediately spied and began to examine. A rude table and several equally rude stools completed the furnishings, save for a charcoal drawing which hung between the windows.
“That’s bully,” said Tom, admiringly. “Didn’t know anybody but Dave Brandon could draw so well.”
“I’m acquainted with the artist,” explained Norman Redfern. “He and his wife are spending the summer in a bungalow not far from here.”
“Well, he’s a dandy, that’s sure,” said Tom.
“Oh, look at these frivolous books,” laughed Joe Preston, a moment later. “You’ll neverget Fred Winter away from ’em. Listen! Here’s Plutarch’s ‘Lives,’ Motley’s ‘Rise and Fall of the Dutch Republic,’ Gibbons’ ‘History of Rome,’ and books on Latin and Greek.”
“The kind of literature a tutor ought to read, I suppose,” said Norman, with a faint smile.
“Great Scott, have you tooted?” asked Joe. “Doin’ it now?”
An uncomfortable expression flitted across the other’s face. He hesitated for a moment, then, seeing the frank, interested looks on his visitors’ faces, replied, “No, not just at present—that is—oh, well, I suppose I might as well tell you——” then, as if half regretting his words, he stopped short.
But Joe Preston’s curiosity was aroused. Joe hated mysteries, or, rather, always liked to have them explained at once. So he said “Well?” in such a tone that there was no getting out of it.
“I’ll have to give you a short history of my life,” began Redfern, dryly. “Being an orphan, I had lived most of the time with an uncle, near Albany. He hadn’t much money, but he was of the right sort, and saw to itthat my education was attended to. I was sent to a large academy near the city. There was another school not far away, and the rivalry between the two institutions was pretty fierce at times—mostly good-natured, of course. But that hasn’t anything to do with my story. After I graduated Uncle Ben passed away, and the little money he left, divided among numerous relatives, was soon gone, and yours truly was thrown on his own resources.
“Well, through the influence of a friend, I got a position as tutor to the ward of a rich man who lives at Nyack. This young chap is very wealthy in his own right, or will be when he reaches the age of twenty-one. He has everything that a boy could wish for, and——”
“Oh, of course nobody could get along with a chap like that,” sniffed Joe. “Why, in our school——”
But Norman smiled.
“George Clayton is a most unmillionaire boy, if I may use the expression,” he said. “He always longed to be like others, in fact, wanted to rough it a bit. George is a bright,manly chap. Why, he’d be wild to go on a trip like yours.”
“Glad to hear it,” observed Joe. “Some boys wouldn’t have the nerve to brave the dangers of a wide stream like the Hudson.”
“We got along splendidly together,” continued Redfern, “and but for an unfortunate occurrence I should be his tutor still.” Norman stared reflectively at the floor for a moment; the light seemed to fade from his eyes, and, with a half sigh, he added, “But I was entirely blameless, and—and—well, his guardian did not view the matter in that light—and—so he fired me.”
“Humph! And why didn’t this George What’s-his-Name stand up for you?” demanded Jack, indignantly.
“He did. But his guardian is one of those men who, when they get an idea, stick to it. Unfortunately, I had no proof of my—my—I mean,” he added hastily, “of my being in the right. So that is the way my position as a tutor slipped away from me last spring.”
“Well, by George—no joke intended”—cried Bob, energetically—“I’d never let a thing like that drop; you bet I wouldn’t, eh,fellows? I’d follow it up till I showed this gentleman where he stood.”
“Wish I had a bit more of that spirit in me,” sighed Norman, “but the fact is, I’m not much of a fighter,” he added, with a faint smile. “The odds were against me, and I got discouraged.”
“And what are you doing here?” asked Joe, bluntly.
“Well, one of my old school chums once spent a summer in this old shack. He told me about it—no rent to pay, you know. I’m going to look for a job in New York pretty soon, and hope to make out until then.”
“Don’t you feel awful lonely?”
“My books are company, and I get a good opportunity to study and write.”
“Say,” remarked Jack, “we’ll pass right by this George Clayton’s town, won’t we?”
“Surest thing I know of,” answered Joe.
“Then why not join our crowd, Redfern?” said Jack, in his usual free and easy manner, “and go and see Mr. Guardian again, eh, fellows?”
He glanced inquiringly toward his companions.
“Just the scheme,” agreed Bob, warmly.
“Very kind of you chaps to make such an offer,” said Norman, hesitatingly, “but——”
“Don’t let there be any ‘buts’ about it,” urged Jack. “Unless you fight the thing, Mr. Guardian will always say you are in the wrong. That’s plain, eh, Bob? It might do you a whole lot of harm.”
“Of course it might,” chimed in Tom.
“I’m glad you have confidence in me,” said Norman, pleased at their earnestness, “and I can assure you it is not misplaced. That affair broke me all up.”
“When did you see the guardian chap last?” inquired Joe, with a directness that almost made his chums smile.
“Several months ago.”
“Plenty of time for him to have changed his opinion. Was the millionaire boy mixed up in the row?” asked Dave.
“No, it did not concern him in the least.”
“Honest—don’t you think you gave up a bit too soon, though?” said Jack. “Come along with us as far as Nyack, tackle Mr. Guardian again, and our crowd will have a chance to meet the millionaire boy. I’m awfullycurious to see what kind of a chap he is. It will kind o’ give variety to the trip. What do you say?”
“I don’t know how I can resist such an invitation,” laughed Norman, his face lighting up with pleasure. “You have given me hope, boys. I guess you are right—I got discouraged too soon. I hate quarrels, and Colonel Ellison is a hard man to deal with; but it won’t do any harm to see him again.”
Bob Somers, who had taken a great fancy to the quiet, studious-looking young fellow, was delighted.
“That’s the idea,” he cried, “eh, fellows?” and a chorus of assenting voices came from his chums.
“And now that it’s all settled,” remarked Fred, as he slowly turned the pages of a history, “would you mind taking a couple of these books along? This is a dandy—tells all about Peter the Great; and there’s another about Mars, by a chap named Lowell, and——”
But Joe interrupted him with a loud burst of laughter, whereupon Fred told him just what he thought of such conduct, and of thedreadful risk he ran of growing up to be a perfect ignoramus, all of which Joe listened to with many smiles and chuckles.
After sitting around for a quarter of an hour, Jack proposed climbing the Palisades, and this being agreeable to all, the five soon started out.
Viewed at close range, the cliffs loomed up grim and gigantic, the fringe of trees lining the top appearing like a row of bushes. The base of the Palisades is almost everywhere broken into a slope formed by the débris that has fallen from the cliffs, and in places this extends upward for hundreds of feet, reaching to the very summit. Norman Redfern declared that he would soon pilot them to a place where the climb to the top would be easy.
The slope along which they made their way was thickly wooded in parts, and the rich green foliage and cool, refreshing shadows pierced by the shafts of sunlight presented a delightful picture. Close by was the ruin of a mill. A few crumbling walls and a rusted fly-wheel alone remained to tell of its existence. A melancholy stillness seemed to hover about it, as if to draw a contrast between itspresent condition and that of its busy past, and the boys, scrambling over the cracked and broken walls, speculated with interest as to the causes which had brought about so wonderful a change.
A startled hare leaped quickly over a pile of bricks and was soon lost to view amidst the underbrush.
“If we only had a pop gun, we could have popped him,” said Jack.
Wandering in and out, now close to the river, then near the cliffs, Redfern finally pointed out a path which zigzagged its way upward. But the active lads were not long content with this easy way of climbing and took advantage of any short cut that presented itself. Some of these were very steep, and often they slipped and slid and only saved themselves by clutching tightly to the tangled grasses and bushes. Showers of stones and earth occasionally rattled downward, and Joe distinguished himself by falling flat in a deep cut formed by the rains and still wet and soggy.
Every foot of the climb so far was through a charming little wood, composed mainly of small trees, and all aglow with sunlight.
Panting from their exertions, they were often compelled to rest.
“Look!” exclaimed Jack, presently, pointing downward.
There, far below them, was the “Gray Gull.” The breeze had straightened out the bunting and it fluttered gracefully at the end of the pole. It was their boat—their home for the time being, and all surveyed it with a sense of pride and pleasure.
The further they climbed, the more often they had to wait for Norman. His strength was not equal to theirs, and, at length, he was obliged to follow the beaten trail. All the boys were surprised at the length of the climb, for they were at one of the highest parts of the Palisades.
But the top was finally reached, and, with aching limbs and panting breath, they threw themselves amidst some tall grasses to rest.
“What a dandy view!” cried Jack, enthusiastically.
From the heights a magnificent panorama opened out before them. The great Hudson reflected the gray, somber clouds, and the hills beyond melted into the haze of distance.It was all vast and impressive. The sound of a motor boat, a mere speck, four hundred feet below them, reached their ears with singular clearness.
“You now have a good view of one of the most famous rivers in the world,” said Norman.
For a long time they gazed, and it is safe to say that there was not much that escaped their attention.
Finally Jack arose.
“Come ahead, fellows,” he said. “We’ll have to explore a bit.”
Through patches of woods and across rocky ledges they made their way, sometimes keeping close to the edge of the cliff and stopping to look down the precipice. How far below it seemed to the narrow strip of beach! As they looked, a solitary bird winged its way across, its harsh cries gradually growing fainter and fainter in the distance.
Norman Redfern’s nerves were not equal to the task imposed by a near approach to the brink. He admired the courage of the active lads, though cautioning them to be careful. But danger only lent spice to the situation.
“Don’t worry about us,” said Jack. “It’s easy to see the dangerous places; and we know that the shortest route down isn’t the best.”
After a time, the party found their progress along the edge of the cliff barred by a wide, deep gully extending inward. The slopes were broken and irregular, full of rocky ledges, tangled masses of vegetation and trees. A small stream of water could be seen trickling down the center.
“Here’s where we have a chance to do some tall climbing,” said Aleck Hunt. “Going to be a rough job, too.”
“Better let it be a case of walking around,” advised Norman Redfern.
“Looks as if it would mean a quarter of a mile tramp,” objected Joe Preston. “If I see an easy place, I’m going to beat all hands to the top of the cliff on the other side.”
“All right,” laughed Jack. “If I knew how to climb and be on the level at the same time, I’d accept your challenge. Guess I’ll walk around.”
This apparently settled the matter, and all five started off.
Sometimes, with loud yells, the boys chased bright-colored butterflies—that is, all but Dave and Fred. Their interest was centered on the plants and flowers which grew so abundantly about them.
Joe Preston, who had stopped several times at the brink of the gully, finally went on ahead.
“Hello!” cried Bob, presently. “What in the dickens has become of Joe?”
“Gee Whitaker, where in the world did he get to?” chimed in Aleck.
“I saw him standing by that rock,” said Redfern. “It was only a moment ago.”
Around them was an open stretch, with nothing to hide the view, but Joe Preston was nowhere in sight.