illustration: [frontispiece: tad's pony leaped into the air] the pony rider boys on the blue ridge or a lucky find in the carolina mountains by frank gee patchin author of the pony rider boys in the rockies, the pony rider boys in texas, the pony rider boys in montana, the pony rider boys in the ozarks, the pony rider boys in the alkali, the pony rider boys in new mexico, the pony rider boys in the grand canyon, the pony rider boys with the texas rangers, etc., etc. illustrated philadelphia henry altemus company copyrighted, 1924, by howard e. altemus printed in the united states of america contents chapter i--the camp in smoky pass all ready for the doodle bugs. stacy envies the guide's appetite. "we'll be having trouble before morning." chunky's howl terrifies billy veal. the pony rider boys in a critical position. chapter ii--battling with a great flood "chops" has a narrow escape. "you'll drown if i let go." "do you hear that noise?" the crest of the flood bearing down threatens to engulf the pony rider boys. chapter iii--lost in a mountain torrent swept away on the roaring waters. all hands shoot the rapids. "just like alligator bait." a hail that was promptly answered. chunky tells another story. chapter iv--what happens to chops canned goods are widely distributed. billy veal sleeps amid perils. the fat boy emulates the crow. the guide proves to be a regular song bird. "bye-o, bye-o, baby; 'possum mighty sly." chapter v--excitement at hunt's corners the "bad man from smoky creek" arrives in a cloud of dust. "turn the coyotes loose! whoope-e-e-e!" the bully of the blue ridge gives chunky's foot a twist. trouble in the making. chapter vi--tad butler in action an exhibition of cool audacity. the freckle-faced boy resents an insult. smoky griffin gets a punch on the jaw. ned holds off a crowd. "i'll shoot the first man who tries to pass you a gun!" a fight to a finish. spectators break into cheers. chapter vii--on the way to smoky bald "the crowd always goes with the upper dog." tad rids a community of a pest. "that's what i call a mean trick." the fat boy in a rage. stacy pounds across the plain in pursuit of his outfit. chapter viii--stalking the fat boy "i don't ask any odds of a horse." tad trails the fat boy and makes an exciting discovery. stacy brown near death. tad's lasso wriggles through the air. a frantic bad man in the toils. "that gentle heart was about to smash my head with a stone." chapter ix--revenge almost at hand the prisoner aims a rifle at tad butler and pulls the trigger. tad apparently has made a grave mistake. a bad man subdued by his adam's apple. "he is an ungrateful wretch." the trouble-maker freed and told to get out. chapter x--biscuit and mystery the bully plots revenge. in the land of the sky. chunky has a nerve-racking dream. putting a hoodoo on billy veal. chops, frantic with fear, bolts the camp. "there he goes!" chapter xi--an interrupted journey "where is that guide?" billy admits that he saw a gnome. the only indian on the reservation. a visitor who brought unpleasant news. the pony rider boys are ordered to get off the ridge. chapter xii--facing new obstacles stacy arouses the anger of a supposed officer. young butler runs a human trail and makes a discovery. "a precious pair of rascals." threats that do not cower. the boys agree to go on. chapter xiii--an exhibition of sheer pluck the professor ready for a fight. held up by armed men. "in my opinion you're a scoundrel!" tad shows his nerve. "it's the black cat and we'll all be lame ducks in a minute and a half." the situation of the boys grows serious. chapter xiv--the professor takes a hand "make 'em dance!" bullets fly thick and fast. a mountain ruffian unhorsed. "get out and don't you dare show your crooked faces here again!" "gold? gold? lead me to it!" chapter xv--the ghost of the tulip glade "do i look as if i had twenty biscuit inside of me?" demands chunky. tad rigs up an ingenious burglar alarm. the freckle-faced boy turns practical joker. "i'm shot! i'm shot!" chunky and chops see a real ghost. chapter xvi--a mysterious night prowler a prank that was timely. "i'm hobbled for keeps!" "there was a strange man in this camp tonight." tad finds a prowler's trail. a discovery that amazes the pony rider boys. chapter xvii--prospectors in the hills a man is identified by a horse's footprint. friendly faces once more. getting acquainted with new-found friends. pony rider boys amaze the gold prospectors. the enemy is fully identified. chapter xviii--the camp suffers a loss when the collie dog did not come back. tad reads the ground signs. "your dog chased a man away from this camp last night." a new sort of tenderfoot. something must be done. chapter xix--butler makes a discovery stacy thinks a pomeranian is a cheese. tad butler takes the trail again. "i must say those fellows are bold." chunky could not have done worse. "it's the collie!" breathed ned rector in awe. chapter xx--a mysterious proceeding "the fiends! they threw him over!" startled by the sound of a gun. the strange actions of jay stillman. a narrow escape. "he's gone. now for his cabin!" cries tad butler. chapter xxi--trapped in a mountain cabin a shrewd game is suspected. "what can it be?" pony rider boys get a startling surprise. "too late! to the chimney!" tad and ned up a sooty flue. the man who killed the dog. ned rector utters mighty sneeze. chapter xxii--pony rider boys in a stew miners are startled by a yell up the chimney. boys come down with a crash and all ablaze. the supper table makes a flight. a fight for life in the mountain cabin. chapter xxiii--the mystery of smoky bald a discovery worth while. the squeal of the hidden wireless. "stillman killed your dog." stacy catches the biscuit thief. plotters in the mountains. off for the forest ranger. chapter xxiv--conclusion trailing down the conspirators. herded in a mountain cabin. "give them a volley, men!" the battle on smoky bald. pluck wins for the pony rider boys. a happy reward. chapter i the camp in smoky pass "now let the flies, the hornets, the fleas and the doodle bugs come and do their worst," declared tad butler, standing off to take a look at the tent he had just finished pitching. "no doodle bugs in mine, if you please," answered stacy brown. "nor mine," added ned rector and walter perkins in chorus. "how about you, chops? do you like bugs?" questioned tad, giving the guide a mischievous glance. "yassir." "you do?" "yassir. nassir." "well, which is it?" "nassir." "i thought not," nodded tad. "chops doesn't always know what he does want." "yassir." "i reckon we'll have to give him a few lessons," suggested chunky brown with a grin. "yassir," replied chops, regarding chunky with large eyes. "so long as you are willing, there seems to be nothing more to be said at the present sitting," observed ned rector. "you're a cheerful idiot, aren't you, chops?" persisted stacy. "yassir." "isn't it fine to have a guide who agrees with everything you say?" scoffed ned. "i'm afraid we're going to have a quiet time of it down here in the blue ridge with a guide who won't oppose you, not a person to fight you, not even an animal to do battle with," mourned ned. "i guess you will find animals enough when we get in farther," answered tad with a laugh. "what kind?" demanded ned, instantly on the alert. "deer, bear and mountain lion." "i--i caught a mountain lion up in the grand canyon," interposed chunky. "yes, we know all about that." "we certainly do, don't we, chunky?" laughed tad. "i reckon if we don't, no one does," finished chunky, directing a look of inquiry at the guide. "yassir," agreed chops, grinning broadly. "chops," it may be well to explain, was not only colored, but he was black as a piece of ebony, which, however, did not account for his peculiar nickname. chops's right name was billy veal. the boys seized upon this to call him veal chops, which after a few hours was changed to the short form, or "chops." and chops, billy would remain as long as he traveled the blue ridge in the company of these fun-loving young fellows. chops's lips were red and his mouth looked like an angry gash, while the eyes at times appeared to be all whites. professor zepplin had attached chops to his party at asheville. the colored man had been recommended as an excellent guide, one who knew every foot of the blue ridge mountains and their various branches. besides this, the professor's informant said that billy veal was a splendid cook, a useful man about the stock, and possessing numerous other qualifications. what the informant did not say was that, while billy may have known how to do all these things, he was loath to do anything that might be construed as work. besides this, his appetite was greater than stacy brown's, which was saying a great deal for billy. veal's appetite was, in fact, assuming alarming proportions. the party feared that they should not be able to keep themselves supplied with food unless something were done to check the growing appetite of the guide and all-around man. the professor was looking on admiringly as tad finished pitching the tents, veal watching the work with wide, white eyes. stacy took a piece of hardtack which he tossed to the waiting colored man, and the hardtack instantly went into chops's mouth. for a second it puffed out his cheek, then disappeared down his throat whole, as the guide gave a convulsive gulp. stacy brown regarded the fellow admiringly. "goodness gracious! i wish i could stow away food like that. did you ever eat on a wager, chops?" "yassir." "what did you do?" "i done et six pies while de clock was strikin' twelve, sah." "six pies?" marveled the fat boy. "yassir." "ho, ho, ho! ha, ha, ha! you must have been a regular turn-over." "yassir." "were you full?" asked tad. "nassir. i could hab done et some more." "chunky, you ought to take lessons from chops. he might give you some valuable pointers," suggested tad laughingly. "i reckon he could at that," agreed the fat boy. "if i could eat six pies all at once, without having to send for the doctor, i'd think i was some pumpkins." "especially if you had been eating pumpkin pies, eh?" chuckled tad butler. "tad, i like your tent arrangement first rate," complimented professor zepplin surveying the little white canvas tents that were ranged in a semicircle about the campfire, all opening to the fire. "i am inclined to think, too, that you have an invention worth while in what we have named the 'butler lean-to.' i am sure others will recognize the value of it and that it will come into quite general use." "thank you. i shall be glad if others find it useful. however, we have not tried it out. we'll see how it works with us during this journey through the blue ridge," answered tad. tad butler's tent was an ingenious little affair. it weighed just five pounds, and when packed, it folded into a neat little package five inches thick by ten by fourteen inches. one might carry it on his back without discomfort. to put up such a tent you cut three slender saplings of about ten feet long, slip one down the ridge of the tent and out through a hole in the back. shove the end of this pole into the ground, cross and spread the other two poles, and tie the three together at the upper ends. next raise the ridge-pole by sticking the other two into the ground to make a triangle. peg down the sides, tie out the front poles at the grommets, and your tent is ready for occupancy, having taken not more than seven or eight minutes in the putting up. after finishing, the tent makes a peculiar appearance, being about two feet wide at the rear, by a full eight feet at the front. the rear of the tent is used for the storing of equipment or "duffle" as the camper calls it. tad arranged two beds in his tent, leaving the others to fix their own as suited their individual tastes. the beds were made by first clearing away the ground, then piling in hemlock boughs fully three feet deep. over this was placed the sleeping bag, and no softer bed ever held a tired camper. the bed had also the merit of raising one from the ground, out of the water, provided there should be rain in the night. the others of this party of young explorers were satisfied to dump their sleeping bags on the ground, though the professor did make a bed for himself, which, while not so practical as tad's, served his purpose almost equally well. "you fellows had better get yourselves off the ground, for we are going to have a storm tonight," advised butler. "walter is sleeping in my tent, but the rest of you look out. don't you think it's going to storm, chops?" "yassir." "i don't think it's going to storm, do you, chops?" asked stacy. "nassir." "there you are," declared the fat boy. "you pay your money and you take your choice. it is going to storm, and it isn't going to storm. you'd make a fine thermometer, chops. why, you'd have everybody crazy with the heat and the cold all at the same time." the camp had been pitched in the narrow smoky pass of the blue ridge through which flowed a tributary of the french broad river. the stream was very shallow at this time of the year, there having been but few rains, and its course was marked mostly by white sand and smoothly worn rocks, with here and there along the borders of the water course little colonies of the white, pink-petaled trillium gently nodding their heads at the ends of their long, slender stems. the pass was silent save for the soft murmur of the stream and the songs of birds farther up the rocky sides in the dense foliage. it was an ideal camping place in a dry spell, but not any too desirable in times of high water. billy veal had declared that it offered a perfectly easy route through to the black mountain spur for which the party was heading. billy knew the mountains very well. the boys were obliged to admit that, but the difficulty was to find out what he did know, for he was as likely to say one thing as another. they had decided that the best plan would be to tell him where they wanted to go, leaving him to do the rest. the more questions they asked the less they knew. "did you ever see a ghost, chops?" asked stacy after they had settled down for an evening's enjoyment. "nassir. yassir," answered the colored man, his eyes growing large. "i'll show you a ghost some time. would you like to be introduced to a ghost?" persisted stacy. "yassir. nassir. doan' want see no ghosts." "then why don't you say so?" "yassir." "say what you mean," ordered the fat boy sternly. "don't beat around the bush. you'll be getting yourself into a pickle first thing you know, for--" "billy! we are waiting for you to get the supper," warned the professor severely. "you should have had it well started before this." "yassir," answered chops, grinning broadly. "you forgot something, chops," reminded stacy. "yassir?" "no, nassir," jeered the fat boy. "stacy, be good enough to go away from the guide. you are interfering with his duties," rebuked the professor. "nassir. yassir," mocked the fat boy with a grin almost as broad as billy veal's. they sat down to supper soon after that and all hands agreed that it was an excellent meal. what appealed to their appetites most were the waffles, real old southern waffles, the kind that mother didn't make. a jug of molasses was produced as a surprise. such a feast the boys had not had within memory. cool, sparkling water was at hand. one had but to step to the stream and dip it up, but it was the waffles that put pretty much everything else out of mind. "why, billy, i didn't know that you brought syrup," glowed the professor, now in high good humor. "yassir." "well, well! this is indeed a surprise, my man." "i am thankful that he is at last making an effort to earn his wages," muttered tad butler. "thus far he hasn't done much in that direction." "you must admit that he has guided us pretty well," defended walter perkins. "you mean we have guided ourselves," differed ned rector. "anybody could follow this hollow; in fact, one couldn't get out of it until he got to the end--that is, unless he had wings--unless he was a bird." "that's chops," declared stacy. "what do you mean?" demanded ned, turning to the fat boy. "i mean he is a bird. must i explain everything to you? if you insist i will draw a picture of a bird and--" "that will do, stacy," rebuked ned. "yassir," mimicked stacy, whereat the boys burst out laughing. there was no resisting stacy brown's droll way of saying things. stacy was a natural comedian, but whether or not he was aware of this, none but himself knew. there were no waffles left when the boys finished their supper. the clouds had been gathering all the afternoon, and just as they sat back for a comfortable chat on full stomachs, little spatters of rain gave promise of a wet night. "you see," reminded tad, nodding to his companions and glancing up to the sky. "we don't see much, but we feel. i guess you were right at that, tad," agreed ned rector. "tad's always right when he isn't wrong," observed stacy solemnly. "and you are usually wrong when you are not right," retorted butler quickly. "laying all levity aside, i wish to ask if you young men know where you are," interrupted the professor. "yassir," answered stacy promptly. "i suppose we are in the smoky pass of the blue ridge mountains in north carolina, sir," replied tad. "exactly. but there are some features about the blue ridge which you young gentlemen possibly are not familiar with. for your benefit i will give you a brief talk on this somewhat unfamiliar range of mountains. ahem! the blue ridge is the most easterly range of the appalachian mountain system. i presume you are unaware that it actually has its beginning at west point on the hudson river, whence so many fine young officers went out to fight for their country in the great world war. am i right in thus supposing?" the professor glared about him fiercely. "you win," muttered stacy. "it is the fact. the blue ridge forms an almost continuous chain from that point down to the north of alabama. the range makes its way through new jersey, pennsylvania, virginia and the carolinas. the blue ridge proper is that part of the range below pennsylvania which separates the great valley from the piedmont region. in south virginia the range widens into a broad plateau which reaches its widest extent in the state where we now are." "yassir," murmured stacy brown. the boys pretended not to have heard the interruption, but the professor fixed a stern eye on stacy, and then resumed his lecture. "in this state, north carolina," he said, "the range is intersected by numerous groups, such as the black, the south and the like, some reaching several thousand feet in height. we shall soon be in a spur of the black mountains." "i fear we shall have to find a new guide if we ever get anywhere, professor," spoke up tad. "i am of the opinion that he has done very well. did he not surprise us with waffles and syrup?" demanded professor zepplin. "he did," agreed the boys. "on the other hand," added tad, "our grub is disappearing most mysteriously. i am sure chunky couldn't eat so much more than the rest of us. our flour is nearly all gone, though we haven't been out a week. it is almost unbelievable. all the biscuit we brought along have disappeared." "and those cookies we got in asheville," mourned stacy. "i was figuring on having cookies all the way across the mountains. now i'll have to eat hard-tack and biscuit." "so long as you don't have to eat salt horse, you ought to consider yourself lucky," retorted rector. "as i was about to say when interrupted," continued professor zepplin, "the black mountains lie in buncombe and yancy counties--" "does chops come from buncombe?" interrupted stacy. "again i say, they form a spur of the blue ridge," resumed the professor unheeding the interruption, "and are a part of the appalachian system. they lie between the french broad river and its main tributary, the nolichucky." "is this the trolleychucky here at our feet, professor?" questioned chunky innocently. tad gave the fat boy a prod with the toe of his boot, whereat stacy turned an indignant face to him. "mount mitchell, black dome, guyot's peak, sandoz knob and gibbe's peak, including smoky bald and others, form the divide between the tennessee and catawba river basins. that, for the present, will be quite sufficient for the topography of the country. as you are no doubt aware, most of the rocks through this region are highly crystalline, but whether of paleozoic or azoic age, is not certain," concluded the professor. "yassir," murmured the fat boy. chops had been listening with wide open mouth and eyes, not understanding a word of what had been said, but being sure it was something of tremendous importance because he could not understand. "here comes the storm," cried tad as a vivid sheet of lightning flashed up the pass, followed by a deafening peal of thunder. almost instantly the rain began to fall, and the boys scrambled for their tents, while chops, wrapping himself in a blanket, crouched in front of the fire. from their tents the lads could talk to each other, the openings of the tents being close to the fire itself. they continued their conversation from the tents. by this time the rain was roaring on the canvas in a perfect torrent. "it's going to be a good night to sleep," called ned. "i am not so sure of that," answered tad butler. "i reckon it'll be a fine night for ducks," observed chunky. "young man, that is not seemly language," rebuked the professor. "it's the truth. isn't truth seemly?" demanded stacy. "you are evading the question." "i beg your pardon, i'm not. i am bumping right up against it," retorted the fat boy, amid smothered laughter. the roar of the storm soon made the boys sleepy, and a few minutes later the last of the party, except tad, had turned in. butler watched the storm for an hour, listening thoughtfully to the river and the rain. "it is my opinion that we'll be having trouble before morning," he muttered as he threw himself down on his bed of boughs. he did not remove his clothes, as had the others, in which perhaps tad butler was wise. once more the pony rider boys were well started on their summer's ride, led by professor zepplin, the tutor who had accompanied them on so many happy adventures in the saddle on their summer outings. the professor, who, in spite of his sternness, was as much a boy as his charges, took a secret delight in their pranks and their noisy chatter. following their lively adventures in other fields, they had elected to explore the apparently more peaceful territory of the blue ridge mountains. in fact, the pony rider boys did not look forward to adventures here, but in this they were destined to be considerably surprised. the pony rider party had made camp in a narrow spot in what was known as smoky pass, and were now facing a storm which tad butler believed promised to be a severe one. nor in this belief was tad one whit outside of the truth, for, as he listened, the storm steadily increased in fury. the present center of the rising storm appeared to be to the eastward of their camp, and already the ordinarily small stream at their feet was muttering ominously. its waters, sparkling clear an hour before, were now muddy and swollen. tad's observant "weather eye" also noted that the stream was full of drift and torn-off foliage. billy veal, the guide, he observed, stood wide-eyed and shivering just beyond the fire, for billy was wet, and he was afraid. "come in here," ordered tad, and billy obeyed with evident reluctance. "do you know of any place hereabouts where we might climb up the side of the pass?" tad demanded. "yassir, nassir," chattered veal. "well, which is it?" insisted butler sharply. "nassir." "humph! then, if we wanted to get out of this pass, and could neither go up nor downstream, what would you do, billy?" "ah reckons ah'd stay heah, sah." "pshaw!" grunted tad disgustedly. trying to wring information from billy was far from satisfying. "sit down in here where you can keep dry, and if the storm gets much worse let me know. i am going to turn in and get some sleep." tad, who had risen to have a look at the weather, threw himself down again, for he was tired and sleepy. the campground was very low, and, were the creek to rise much above its present channel, butler knew that his party would come in for a fine wetting. however, this was not greatly disturbing to him, though he did not exactly like the idea of being shut up in that walled-in pass with no way of getting out save by following the stream either up or down. tad quickly went to sleep and slumbered on unmindful of the roar of the storm. he was disturbed some three hours later by howls from the tent occupied by stacy brown. "oh, wow!" yelled the fat boy. tad butler, like every other member of the party, was awakened by stacy's yell. chops sat shivering and regarding him apprehensively. he had never before heard chunky howl, and the howl was terrifying to him. "go and see what is the matter with mr. brown," directed tad. stacy's howls broke forth afresh. "hey! stop that. what's the matter?" shouted tad. "i'm all afloat. i'm soused from head to foot," came the reply. "save you the trouble of taking a bath," answered butler. "i'll drown," wailed stacy. "oh, stop it and get a boat," urged ned rector's voice. "why didn't you pile in hemlock boughs, as i told you to do, then you wouldn't have got wet," rebuked tad. "are you lying in the water?" "yes. what'll i do?" "you'll get wetter, so far as i am able to see." about this time professor zepplin in his pajamas was charging out of his tent. he was drenched in a second. "guide, isn't there a higher and drier place that we can get to?" demanded the professor. "yassir. nassir." "we are in a pocket, professor. we'll have to take our medicine," called tad. "i don't like my medicine so cold," wailed the fat boy. "all hands had better dress," advised butler. "i think we are about to experience some trouble." "what do you think?" questioned the professor. "i think we are in for a ducking." tad put on a rubber coat, and pulling his hat well down, stepped out. by this time there was no fire. it had been drowned out, and the night was black. he could not see a thing, but the ominous roar of the creek was close at hand. the boy went back to his tent and got a lantern. emerging with this, a grim smile settled on the pony rider boy's face as he surveyed the scene. the waters from the stream were swirling and eddying about the bases of the tents; the stream had left its former channel and pretty much all the former dry ground was covered with a thin coating of water. professor zepplin glanced about apprehensively. "this looks serious," he observed. "it does," agreed tad. "but what are we going to do?" "i think we had better break camp and try to make our way out of this while we may," replied tad. "the horses already are standing in water above their fetlocks. they'll be in it up to their bodies soon, at the present rate of rise." "what does the guide say?" demanded professor zepplin. "the guide isn't saying anything. chops is too frightened to talk. shall i give the orders, sir?" asked butler. "yes, if you think best, tad. your judgment in these matters i have usually found to be sound." "turn out, fellows! turn out in a hurry, too, unless you prefer to take a long swim. saddle the ponies, chops. move!" urged tad sharply. the pony rider camp was instantly turned into a scene of activity. the boys knew from tad's tone that the situation was alarming, and they lost no time in getting into their wet clothes, chunky chattering like a magpie, chops rolling his eyes as if he were about to go into a fit, and the faces of the other boys showing more than ordinary concern. the situation was critical, even more so than tad butler thought, but which he, with the others, was soon to realize. chapter ii battling with a great flood fortunately for the pony rider outfit, tad butler's forethought had saved much of their provisions, for the "chuck" had been suspended from the crotch of a sapling where it now swung high and dry above the water that was swirling below it. not trusting the guide to pack the provisions tad took that task upon himself, while his companions, with the exception of stacy brown, were getting the other equipment together for a hurried move. billy veal, in the present emergency, was about as useful as a wooden man. too frightened to keep his mind on his work, whatever he did he did badly. "who was the man who recommended chops to you, professor?" called tad. "the banker at asheville, sir. why?" "oh, nothing much except that i'd like to be a judge and have that banker come up before me just once--just once, mind you." "i am inclined to agree with you, young man," replied the professor. "were there a reasonable chance for him to get home alive i should be for sending veal there at once." "what are we going to do now?" cried ned running up to them, now fully clothed, with oilskins covering his body down to the knees. "we are going to try to get out of here. hurry with the tents. strike the camp in a rush, boys!" commanded tad. "if we wait long enough the lightning will do that for us," jeered stacy. "no levity, gentlemen," was the professor's stern command. "this is a time for action, not so-called humor." "yassir," piped the fat boy. the tents came down quickly, but they were not packed with the usual care. instead they were folded up hastily and stowed in the packs of the various boys. the lads worked like tentmen striking circus tents when looking forward to a long run to the next town. the result was that the equipment was ready for moving in almost record time. the water was plainly rising as tad could see by the light of the flickering lanterns. "now, professor, we are all ready," announced butler finally. "what would you suggest?" "i am depending upon you, tad. i thought you had some plan in mind. however, so long as you have asked me, i would suggest that we continue on upstream." "i think it would be wiser to go the other way," advised tad. "guide, is there any place below here where we can make a dry landing?" "yassir." "that's good. how far below?" "right smart piece, sah." "how far?" demanded tad insistently. "right smart, sah." "you can't get anything out of him," grumbled butler disgustedly. "how far is 'right smart,' chops?" interjected rector. "a right smart, sah." "a mile?" "yassir." "two miles?" "yassir." "you see, professor," spoke up tad with a shrug of the shoulders. "we can expect no help from chops. we've got to trust to our own judgment." the professor nodded reflectively. "why do you prefer to go down rather than upstream?" he asked. "for the reason that we shall meet higher water up there, and besides this we shall be beating against the flood instead of going with it. you will find the going easier downstream than the other way." "i am inclined to think you are right. but the difficulty is that we don't know what we are going to meet that way now." "we shall have to take our chances, that's all. and the sooner we get started the better. we'll be swept off from this camp ground pretty soon. you see how rapidly the water is rising?" reminded butler. "then we will go downstream. get ready, boys." "we're ready," cried ned. "i'm not ready," answered stacy. "i--i've got to tie my shoe. i--" "let him tie his shoe. he can follow along when he gets ready. we don't propose to stay here and drown," declared ned. "i'll lead the way with a lantern," announced tad. "chops, you ride up next to me. ned, you follow along at the rear with a second lantern. in that way we shall be pretty well able to see what we are doing and what is going on along the line." "an excellent idea," approved professor zepplin. "you have a wise head on your shoulders, tad." "but a wet one," laughed the pony rider boy, mounting his pony and wading it cautiously into the rapidly moving water. "come on there, chops. why are you hanging back?" "yassir," answered billy veal riding in after tad with evident reluctance. the water was up to the bellies of the ponies. the little animals put back their ears. they did not like the task before them. chunky had trouble with his mount and for a moment it looked as though the fat boy would be dumped into the flood. after a brief battle, however, he managed to get his horse headed in the right direction. for the first half hour the boys made their way along without great difficulty, though they could tell that the water was rising all the time. at first they had held their feet up, to keep them out of the water. but now they were riding with feet in stirrups, well down in the water. their feet were already benumbed with the cold, the ponies were snorting, and the night seemed to be growing blacker with the moments. all at once ned's voice was raised above the roar of the water in a warning shout. "pull to the right!" he called. the word was passed along quickly, whereat every one forced his pony against the steep wall on the right-hand side. they were none too soon. a great tumbling shape went tearing by, raking the legs and sides of the horses. billy veal, not having got out of the way quickly enough, was caught, and his pony was swept from its feet. the colored man fell, uttering a yell of fear. tad, with quick presence of mind, threw his own body forward and taking a stiff brace on the right stirrup reached down grasping billy by the coat collar. chops was yelling lustily. "stop it! howling won't help you!" bellowed tad. a big tree, having been uprooted by the storm, had done the work. but the tree had come and gone almost before the pony rider boys realized what had occurred. billy was floundering in the water. tad was holding to him with difficulty. "if you don't stop it, i'll let go," threatened tad. "you'll drown if i do. buck up!" "let him go! we don't want him," shouted chunky mockingly. "ride up beside me and help me, or i shall let go," gritted tad, holding to the fellow with all his strength. chunky obeyed reluctantly. he was afraid to get mixed up with this fresh difficulty, fearing that he might be unhorsed. chunky had sense enough to know what that would mean to him, but he lent his aid as best he could, and between them they managed to get chops up on tad's horse. in the meantime walter had ridden ahead and caught the guide's pony after a struggle with the wiry little animal that nearly terminated in walter's getting a bath in the cold water, though they all were about as wet as it was possible to be. it was not the wetness that they feared, however, but the swift current that nearly took the ponies off their feet, sure-footed as the tough little animals were. some further trouble was experienced in getting chops back on his own horse, and it was only by lifting him over bodily while two of them forced the guide's pony over against tad's mount that they succeeded at all. "if you get into difficulties again i guess you'll have to shift for yourself," declared butler. "we have about all we can do to look out for ourselves without attending to you, chops." "ya--yassir." "oh, shoot the 'yassir,'" jeered rector. "are we all right side up with care once more?" "fit as dry fiddles," cried tad. "forward, all! are you ready, professor?" "as ready as i shall be tonight. all hands keep watching the bank on either side for a landing place." "i am looking after that. you may all help, of course," replied tad. they started on again. in places the current was so swift, where it swirled into a bend of the stream, that tad was obliged to follow the current, rather than take the more direct course. he felt that his pony could not stand the added strain were he to go straight ahead. it was a weird scene, the shadowy figures outlined in the dim light of the lanterns, the film of spray kicked up by man and horse, the great dark walls towering on either side, and the roar of the flood making necessary loud talking if one hoped to have his voice reach his companions. chops was the only one who really acted as if he were afraid. tad butler rode ahead with all the steadiness of a seasoned trooper going into battle. the others were not far behind him in composure, though stacy brown's eyes were large and staring. once more their thoughts were interrupted by a call from ned, who, as the reader knows, was bringing up the rear of the procession. ned's voice again had in it a note of warning. "ask him what it is," called tad. "he says he doesn't know," answered the professor. tad halted his pony and turned in the saddle waiting until ned came up with him. "what is it, ned?" he demanded. "don't you hear that noise?" "that roaring?" asked butler. "yes." "i've been listening to that for the last sixty seconds," answered tad, his face drawing down into sharp lines of concentration. "what do you think it is?" "water." "it's something more than mere water. it's a torrent, ned. this is where we get it. everyone crowd close to the bank," shouted tad. "what for? is--is it another tree?" demanded chunky. "it's water and a lot of it. the crest of the flood i think is coming down. perhaps it won't last long and perhaps it may endure for half an hour or so. hug the wall over here on the left side. it's less exposed there. chops! get over here! be lively!" they had not long to wait. already pieces of bark, limbs, torn branches, roots and sod were tearing their way down the pass, slapping the legs of the ponies, causing the little animals to rear and plunge and snort, and to make frantic efforts to get out of the way. this made it the more difficult for the boys to manage them, to keep them close to the bank where they would be safer than farther out in the stream. "there goes my lantern!" yelled ned. "i'm in the dark." "you're lucky if you don't find yourself in a darker place in a few minutes," muttered tad butler apprehensively. just then a piece of wood hurled against his own lantern shattered the globe, at the same time tearing the lantern from his hand, leaving only the wire handle in his possession. impenetrable darkness instantly settled over the roaring scene, and above the roar was heard the voice of stacy brown. "yassir. nassir!" mocked chunky. "stick tight to the left. quit your fooling!" shouted tad. chapter iii lost in a mountain torrent "hang together if you can. crowd close in behind me!" had all obeyed the orders of young butler they might have escaped with no serious consequences, but in the excitement of the moment and swallowed up in the darkness of the night in smoky pass, the boys were quickly separated. one had pulled this way in fighting with his pony, another that. even professor zepplin had been carried into a cove far on the other side, for at this point the stream had broadened out considerably. all at once tad felt his pony lifted from its feet. the animal began to swim. to lighten the burden the boy slipped off, taking a hitch of his rope about his waist, securing the rope to the pommel of the saddle. it was now a case of every man for himself and trust to luck. "are you there?" he called to his companions. "ya--yassir," answered billy veal. "are you there?" again demanded tad at the top of his voice. he heard a shout in reply, the shout seeming to come from far down the stream. then tad was caught in a wave and swept along with the current, clinging desperately to the saddle. there was no need to try to swim. he was traveling fast enough without attempting to go any faster. every little while the boy would shout for his companions. only twice was he able to catch a reply from any of the party. "i am afraid they're lost," groaned the boy. even the familiar "yassir" of chops was no longer to be heard. billy veal had disappeared, and for all tad knew the guide had been drowned. now and then a tree or a heavy trunk would graze the body of the lad. lightning was still flashing at intervals, but the storm was passing, and already a faint streak of light might have been observed roofing the narrow opening over smoky pass. all at once tad found himself enveloped in a new darkness. something seemed to have caught his head in a vise-like grip, and he lost consciousness. though butler did not know it, a heavy piece of timber had been hurled against him, striking the lad on the head. the rope that had been secured about the boy's waist slipped up under his arms under the added weight put upon it. tad's head drooped, but not far enough to permit the water to cover it. then on swept boy and pony through the swirling flood, the pony fighting, the boy passive. another pony bumped into butler's horse, but tad did not know of the collision. how long he had been unconscious, tad did not know, but it could not have been for very long, and when he returned to consciousness he found himself literally hanging at the side of the pony. the animal was standing dripping and trembling, but, as the pony rider boy quickly discovered, the horse was on solid ground. the roar of the swollen stream was still in butler's ears, but he was no longer battling with the flood. the night was still so dark that he could not see the water, though overhead he saw the stars twinkling brightly. tad spoke to his horse. the animal whinnied its appreciation, and tad patted it with a feeble hand. the boy was still too weak to do more than lie back, breathing hard, and exerting every bit of will power that he possessed to pull himself together. "this won't do. i'll surely shake to pieces if i remain here," he muttered. with a great effort he pulled himself up and released himself from the rope. "hello!" called tad with all his strength. there was no response. "they've gone! i hope they aren't drowned, but i am sure something terrible has happened to them. how i wish it were light so that i could see what i am about." taking the bridle rein in one hand, tad began feeling about in the darkness. he learned that the pony had dragged him up to a narrow, sandy strip of land at the base of the wall. the ground was wet, indicating that the water had but recently receded from it. this proved to the boy that the crest of the flood had passed and that the water was rapidly going down. "there's little doubt that it was the crest that struck us. but the question is, what hit me? i don't suppose it would help if that question were answered. the real question is, what has become of my companions?" he muttered. there was nothing to be done just yet, though tad decided to try the creek very soon. this he did after half an hour's waiting. by that time his pony had recovered itself sufficiently to warrant butler in climbing to the wet, slippery saddle. how cold it did feel underneath him, but the heat of his body soon took away this unpleasant sensation. tad boldly forced the pony into the creek. to the boy's relief the water barely touched the stirrups. "now if i don't fall into any pockets in the creek, i'm all right. i don't know whether the others are below or above me, but i'm going down a piece and if i find no one, i'll turn about and come back." every few moments tad would shout. at last there came an answering call. "who are you?" cried the lad joyously. "chunky!" "chunky?" "yassir, nassir," answered the fat boy. "where are you?" "i'm where the little boy was when he was chased by a bulldog--up a tree." riding over toward the voice, butler found this to be literally true. stacy had grabbed at a limb that had struck him in the face, and then swung himself up to the limb, permitting his pony to go on where it would. "take me down," begged stacy. "where are the others?" "i saw jonah go by me just after i landed from my ark." "who?" wondered butler. "chops." "but the rest of them?" urged tad. "i don't know anything about them. i've had all i could do to look after myself, and don't you forget it. where have you been?" "up the creek a way. what became of your pony?" "i don't know. i tell you i've been busy. it wasn't any fun to hang to this limb, not knowing at what second it was going to break and let me down into the water. i reckon that would have been the end of stacy brown. then the papers at home would have had something to talk about. 'our distinguished fellow townsman, stacy brown, carried away and lost in a flood in smoky pass in the blue ridge.' sounds kind of romantic, doesn't it?" "you have about as much feeling as a turnip," remarked tad disgustedly. "the others may be drowned. i wish you had your pony. i don't know what i am to do, but i'm afraid i'll have to leave you up there while i go and search for the others." "what? leave me up here in this tree?" wailed chunky, changing his tone instantly. "yes." "no you don't! my death will be on your head if you do. don't you ever accuse me of not having any feeling, if you go away and leave me treed like a coon at bay." "i suppose i'll have to take you, but the pony's pretty well played out and so am i. here, give me your hand." in trying to make the pass from the limb to the pony, stacy fell into the water with a splash and uttering a yell. he thought he was going to be drowned, but was surprised when he found that the water did not reach far above his waist. the pony, frightened by the splash, leaped to one side, nearly unseating its rider. "you're a lumbering lummox," rebuked tad. "so are you. if you hadn't been, you wouldn't have let me fall. are you going to help me get up?" "yes. i will get down and walk. you may ride if you want to. i'm not going to ask the pony to carry us both." chunky reflected over this for a moment. tad slipped down into the cold water. "get up there, and mind you don't let my pony get away," ordered butler. "i won't!" "you won't what?" "i won't get up." "i got down so that you might." "i'm not that kind of a tenderfoot and you ought to know it by this time. no, sir; i don't do anything of the sort. get back there and ride your own bundle of bones." "i prefer to walk," answered butler briefly. "so do i, and i'm going to." neither would get into the saddle, so they very stubbornly started splashing along beside the pony, each with a hand on the bridle to save himself in case he stepped into a hole in the stream. tad continued calling until his voice gave out, but got no reply from anyone. "come now, you yell for a while," he urged. "what shall i say?" asked chunky innocently. "say? i don't care what you say. make a noise. that's all. i want to find the rest of our party." "i'll bet chops is alive. but isn't he the jonah?" "i hadn't thought about it," answered tad briefly. "you will when you get calmed down a little. you're excited now," declared stacy brown. "i'm nothing of the sort," protested tad indignantly. "oh, yes you are. you don't know it, that's all," insisted the fat boy. a sharp retort rose to tad's lips, but he suppressed it. there was no use in arguing with chunky, who was bound to have the last word and that last word always did have a sting in it. at present there were more important matters on hand. soon after that tad's hello was answered by one a short distance down the pass. contrary to his usual powers of voice, chunky had not proved much of a success in yelling. the new voice turned out to belong to ned rector. ned and his pony had found a strip of land on which they had taken refuge. it was a glad ned, too, when he discovered his companions. "have you seen anything of walter and the professor?" asked butler anxiously. "i think they are below here somewhere. i am sure it was they who swept past me just after we got caught in the eddy back there." "how about jonah?" asked stacy. "who is jonah?" "the jonah who claims to be a guide, but who ought to be in a strait-jacket." "he means chops," laughed tad. "i don't know that i care particularly what has become of him," growled ned. "oh, yes you do, ned. he is a human being just the same as you or i," rebuked stacy. "i suppose that's so, but the question is open to argument and a wide difference of opinion. i think the veal chop stayed upstream somewhere, though he may have gone on downstream. if he did, i didn't see him go, nor hear him. come to think of it, it seems to me that i did hear him yelling behind me after i started on my swim for life. talk of going through the rapids of niagara! i don't believe your swim in the grand canyon was any more exciting than this one tonight. it was daylight then," said ned. "yes," agreed tad. "oh, wait till i get hold of that guide! what i won't do to him--" "it will be my turn first, ned," interrupted stacy. "what happened to you, by the way?" questioned ned. "oh, i got left up a tree, just like the alligator bait down in florida. do you know how the colored people catch alligators down there?" "in a woodchuck trap?" questioned rector quizzically. "na-a-a-a! i'll tell you for your information, if you don't know. they take a little colored baby and tie him either to the limb of a tree that hangs over the water, or else fasten him to a long pole--one that will bend--then lower him over the water. he yells--could you blame him? the 'gators, hearing the yell, and maybe getting a whiff of the kid, come up with open jaws with appetites that would break a hotel. no, they don't get the little cullud person. they get a chunk of lead right through one eye and usually that's the end of mr. 'gator. the tiny cullud person is removed from the pole and the deed's done and everybody's happy ever afterwards." "a very likely story!" observed ned scornfully. "very," agreed tad. "we had better be getting downstream to look for the others." ned refused to get off and walk, so he rode ahead of them to sound the bottom of the stream. day was just breaking when they came across the professor and walter perkins, both sprinting up and down on a sandy beach to start their blood into circulation. so ludicrous did the two look that the boys shouted. they could well afford to shout now that all of their party were accounted for, with the exception of the guide, whom they had little doubt they should find later safe and sound. chapter iv what happened to chops "boys, boys!" cried the professor. "you don't know how relieved i am to see you safe and sound--" "and wet and miserable," added stacy. "that doesn't make any difference so long as you are safe. i feared something serious might have happened to you." "there did. tad was knocked out and i was lost up a tree," added the fat boy eagerly. "oh, what a fine time we're having!" "where is the guide?" "we are going back to look for him, professor," answered butler. "i don't know what has become of him." "and we don't care what's become of the jonah," scoffed chunky. "got anything that looks like food in this outfit?" "yes. by the way, professor, how about the stores? have you saved any from your packs?" questioned tad. "i am afraid the provisions are in a sad state," answered professor zepplin ruefully. "but surely the canned stuff must be all right," urged tad. "yes, but where is the canned stuff? the pack holding the canned goods came open and everything spilled out," walter perkins informed them. chunky groaned. "i see my end! not satisfied with trying to drown me in a raging flood, you now propose to starve me to death! but i won't be starved. i'll go out and shoot a deer. i understand they are plentiful in this range of rocks." "i reckon you will have to get out of smoky pass before you carry out any of your well-laid plans," answered ned. at tad's suggestion, such stores and equipment as they had saved were taken from the packs and spread out on the ground to dry. most of the biscuit were so soaked that they were falling apart. not a single can of food was left, although a ham had been preserved from the wreck. their extra clothing, too, had been saved from the flood, and merely needed drying to be fit for use. "we can live on ham for a long, long time," said tad encouragingly. "then there is the coffee which will be usable after we have dried it out. i propose that we leave all the stuff here with someone to watch it, while the rest of us go upstream to see what we can pick up, and at the same time look for chops. i am mighty glad that we haven't lost our tents. professor, will you stay here while we take the trail?" "yes. but you will be careful, won't you?" "of what?" "that you don't get into other difficulties." "no danger of that," answered tad laughingly. "everything that could occur already has happened, unless stacy were to climb the side of the pass and fall off." "no, thank you," objected the fat boy. "you may stir up all the excitement you like, but no more for stacy brown until he is at least dried out from the last mixup." tad now suggested that he and ned go back to look for their lost property and their guide. "the rest of the party will remain here," he directed. "no need for you to go with us, but suppose we have something to eat first--ham and coffee, for instance." "we have no matches to start a fire with," reminded walter perkins. the boys looked very solemn. chunky groaned dismally. "i knew you fellows would find some way to my distress--to the awful gnawing on the inside of me," he complained. "never mind, young men," spoke up the professor. "find some reasonably dry wood or bark, and i will attend to the lighting end. fortunately my match safe is intended for just such an emergency as this, and i do not believe we shall find any difficulty in making a fire, provided you rustle the fuel." the pony rider boys gave a cheer for professor zepplin. the problem of finding wood, however, was almost as perplexing as had been that of the matches. tad immediately jumped on his pony and trotted up the pass. he returned half an hour later, with a bundle of bark, dry sticks and a few pieces of pitchpine. a roaring fire was going soon after his arrival. the warmth from it felt good, indeed, to the wet and shivering pony riders. breakfast that morning was limited, so far as variety was concerned, though there was plenty to eat, and the ham had grown perceptibly smaller when they finished, and not the least of this had found a resting place in the person of stacy brown. stacy was quite willing to remain with walter and the professor. tad and ned started up the pass immediately after breakfast, and on the way up they recovered the missing ponies, except the pack animal, which must have been carried away with most of their stores. later in the day they discovered billy veal fast asleep in the sunlight on a ledge of rock, some eight feet above the channel of the creek. how he had succeeded in getting up there neither tad nor ned could imagine, nor did billy seem to know what had happened to him. he sat up, regarding them with wide eyes, after they had called to him several times. great was their relief when they found him, but the next problem was how to get billy down. this was solved by tad's ever-ready rope. one end of this was tossed up to the guide with instructions to pass it about a nearby sapling, tossing the free end down to them. in this way tad would only have to pull on one rope after the colored man had come down, then the rope would slip back to its owner. shortly after that billy was standing in the creek channel beside them. "did you get wet, chops?" asked rector. "yassir, nassir." "did you get drowned?" asked tad with a grin. "nassir, yassir, i done--" "he doesn't know what happened to him," scoffed ned. "you come along with us. there's work to be done today and if you don't do your share, i shall have something besides words for you," threatened butler. they made the guide walk until they came up with his pony. chops grinned broadly, delightedly, when he discovered his horse browsing contentedly beside the stream. "wah-hoo-wah!" he shouted, flinging his arms above his head. "who would have thought him to be so near human?" cried ned. "yes, there's hope for chops yet. but we shall see," answered butler. it was considerably past noon when they reached their companions on the return journey. a few of their belongings had been picked up in the pass, but not enough to relieve their critical situation. "boys, i have been thinking, since you left. we shall have to find a place where we may replenish our stores, else we shall have to go back. guide, do you know of a store anywhere near here?" asked the professor. "yassir." "you forgot something," laughed tad. "nassir," jeered stacy. "chops, you're a jonah. i've said it before, and i say it again. why, you couldn't go to the aquarium without some of the whales biting you." "that will do, stacy. now, guide, where is this store that you know about?" urged the professor. "jim abs', sah. ah reckon him done keep a store at hunt's corners, sah." "good for you, chops," cheered the boys. "how far is that from here?" "right smart piece, ah reckon, sah." "how far, how far?" insisted professor zepplin. the professor was near to losing his temper. "right smart, sah, right smart." "it's hopeless," declared butler. "the best we can do will be to follow him. see here, chops, shall we be able to reach there before dark if we start out right away?" "yassir, nassir." "he means no," interpreted tad. "i wish you'd give me the key so i could understand what he does mean," said ned disgustedly. "you'd have to get the key to the whale, if you expect to understand jonah," scoffed the fat boy. "i would suggest that we start at once," said tad. "the outfit is pretty well dried out now. it doesn't matter so much about the tents. they will dry quickly after they have been pitched. when we come to a good camping place we will go into camp along towards night. in the morning we can go on and find the store. are you sure you know where it is, billy?" "guyot's peak." "very good, very good. you are improving, my man." "yassir. t'ank you, sah." "nassir, ah don't t'ank you, sah," mocked stacy. "let him alone, can't you?" demanded ned savagely. "yes, while he is trying to be good, help instead of discouraging him. you are enough to upset anyone," returned tad, trying to be stern. the camp was pitched near a spring and there in the warm late afternoon sun a thorough drying out was given to both tents and equipment, with everyone in excellent humor. the boys even sang as they went about their work of dressing up the camp. supper consisted of more ham and some excellent coffee, the latter having been thoroughly dried out before grinding. chops, of course, ate his supper after the others had finished, one or another of the boys now and then tossing him a piece of food while they were eating, which billy ordinarily swallowed whole. the evening was spent sitting about the campfire telling stories and joking with one another. at such times the professor came in for a share of jibes, all of which he took with smiling face, frequently giving the boys back better than they had sent. morning was ushered in with a brilliant sun, the birds singing all about them and the fresh odors of foliage and flowers in the air. even chunky began to sing before he had finished his dressing. "anybody'd think you were a bird," called rector. "thank you for the compliment," retorted stacy. "i didn't say what kind of a bird, did i?" jeered ned. "what kind am i?" "you remind me of a crow. you sing like a crow. i'll wager that chops can sing better than you." "how about it, chops?" called tad. "yassir?" "can you sing?" "yassir." "nassir," added chunky. "let's hear you," urged walter. "yes, i guess we can stand it after all we have been through," decided the fat boy. "wha' you want me sing?" grinned chops. "sing something soft and low," begged stacy. "no, none of those sob songs for mine," objected ned. "give us something to cheer us up. we need cheering." "yassir." chops cleared his throat and with frying pan in hand began to sing in a melodious voice: quit dat playin' 'possum, ah sees dem eyelids peep! spec's to fool yo' mammy p'tendin' you'se ersleep. smah'tes li'l baby dat uver drord a bref, try ter fool he mammy, he gwine git sho'-nuff lef'. 'possum, 'possum, 'possum mighty sly, 'possum, 'possum, 'possum, ah sees you blink dat eye. bye-o, bye-o, baby, 'possum mighty sly, bye-o, bye-o, baby, bye-o, bye-o-bye. m-hm-m-m-m. m-hm-hm-hm! "hooray!" howled the pony rider boys. "''possum mighty sly, bye-o, bye-o, baby bye.'" "go on. sing some more," urged tad. "yes, for goodness' sake do something that you really know how to do," cried ned rector. chops began swaying his body, swinging the frying pan from side to side. then he launched into another song that set the boys joining in the chorus, swinging their own bodies, keeping time with the singer. chapter v excitement at hunt's corners "is this another of those cry-baby songs?" questioned ned. "yassir." "go on, go on," urged the boys. w'en de sun roll in an' de moon roll out, an' de li'l stars git sprinkl't all erbout, den ah listens fer my honey an' ah calls her an' ah shout, o lindy, lindy, lindy, o my lindy! o lindy, come erlong an' listen at my song; de mockin' bu 'd is singin' ter his honey, come, lemme sing ter you an' tell you, tell you true, dat ah loves you mo' dan heaps er silver money, twice did the pony rider boys roar out the chorus until they had drowned the voice of the singer entirely. in their merriment they forgot all about the breakfast, all about the thick slices of ham that had long since dropped from the frying pan of the singing billy veal. "come, come, young men," interrupted the voice of professor zepplin. "singing is all right, but i want my breakfast." stacy thrust his chin up close to the professor's face and in a low, crooning voice, sang, come, lemme sing ter you, an' tell you, tell you true, dat ah loves you mo' dan heaps er silver money. the boys chuckled at the ludicrous sight of stacy brown in his pajamas singing a lullaby to the dignified professor. it was too much for the professor's gravity, too. the latter let out his own voice in a roar of laughter that, according to ned rector in describing the scene later, fairly shook old smoky, miles off to the northward of them. "now, gentlemen," said professor zepplin, after having recovered his composure, "if you will be good enough to rescue the ham from beneath the feet of our guide, we will proceed with our preparations for the morning meal. you have a very fine voice, guide." "yassir." "we shall be glad to have you sing for us again." "some day when you have such cold that you can't speak above a whisper," added stacy brown, trotting back to his tent to put on his clothes. shortly after eight o'clock the camp was struck, tents packed and everything put in shape for the journey to hunt's corners, the location of which chops confidently assured them was a right smart distance straight ahead. this proved to be true. it was four hours later when the outfit drew up at a log building, one-storied, the low porch being piled with small agricultural implements. in the rear were three other buildings constructed of the same material, but not nearly so large as the store itself. several mountaineers were lounging about, and the arrival of the pony rider boys created considerable excitement. jim abs, proprietor of the store, came out to see what the commotion was about. he recognized billy at once, but glanced suspiciously from one to the other of the boys, whose warlike appearance evidently stirred apprehension in the mind of the keeper of the store at hunt's corners. the boys slid from their saddles and tethered their horses at the tie rail to one side of the store building. professor zepplin stepped up, followed by the crowd of loungers, and introduced himself to the proprietor, stating that they were desirous of laying in a stock of supplies. "i reckon i kin accommodate ye," nodded abs. "where ye hail from?" "the north," the professor informed him. "say, mister, where's the corners?" piped stacy. "this is them," grinned the storekeeper. "i don't see any corners except the corners of the building." "you wouldn't know a corner if you were to meet it in smoky pass," declared tad. "i know a good thing when i see it, and those bananas hanging there look pretty real to me," answered stacy, helping himself to half a dozen of the well-seasoned bunch. "that'll be thirty cents," said the storekeeper, extending a hand. stacy regarded him solemnly. the fat boy's mouth was so full of banana that he was speechless for the moment. chunky nodded his head at tad, indicating that butler was to pay for the fruit. stacy was too busy to waste time in paying. tad good-naturedly handed out thirty cents. "that's sixty-five cents you owe me now, chunky. if you keep on at this rate i'll have to levy on your pony." "i wouldn't give sixty-five cents for his whole outfit," declared ned. "perhaps that is because you haven't sixty-five cents," retorted tad. "yes, i have. i've got several times sixty-five cents." "it's counterfeit, then," mumbled stacy. "boys," called the professor coming to the door of the store, "did you know this is a post office?" "a post office?" cried the lads. "yes. i thought perhaps you might wish to send off some letters." "yes, we do. indeed, we do," cried ned and tad and walter in chorus. "but we shall have to write them. we haven't any letters ready. can we get paper here? ours is all down in the pass," said tad. "i suppose you can get all you want in here, provided you have the money to pay for it," smiled professor zepplin. "oh, we have the price, though i suppose i shall have to pay for chunky. he is broke as usual," laughed butler. "he'll be broke worse before he finishes this nice peaceful trip. don't you say so, chops?" jeered ned. "yassir," grinned the guide. "do you want to write letters, too, billy?" teased stacy. "yassir, nassir." "he does and he doesn't," laughed tad. "in other words, chops is on the fence," nodded rector. "if we are going to do business i guess we had better get at it." "agreed," answered tad, striding into the store. there the boys got pads and pencils, for they had lost their own supply. they also bought stamps, peanuts and various other things that were either useful or that appealed to their boyish appetites. having equipped themselves for writing, the pony rider boys repaired to the porch where they sat down, and with pads on knees began to write, while the loungers gathered about, eyeing the lads curiously. others were out at the side of the store, looking over the ponies and discussing the party, the like of which perhaps never before had been seen at hunt's corners. "how do you spell torrent, with one or two r's?" questioned chunky after a few moments of silence, during which the lads had been writing industriously. "depends upon the size of the torrent," retorted rector. "was that one last night a single or a double r'd one?" inquired stacy solemnly. "i reckon it was a double r," laughed butler. "you are safe in using two of them in this instance." "chunky's writing an article for the paper," suggested walter mischievously. "that's right. that's just what i am doing and that's where i get even with you fellows. i can have the last say--" "don't you use my name," snapped ned. "i'm not looking for the kind of newspaper notoriety you would be likely to give a fellow. you tell them all you want to about stacy brown, but leave ned rector out of it." "i have," answered the fat boy significantly. "that's one for you, ned," cried tad. "but i wish you boys would keep quiet. i'm writing to mother and she'll think something is the matter with me, for i've already written 'torrent' twice where it didn't belong and next thing i know i'll be putting in some of chunky's stuff about last night. do be quiet. if you don't want to write, go to sleep." stacy yawned broadly at the suggestion of sleep. he was ready for sleep at that moment, but his desire to tell the folks at home, through the medium of the weekly paper, through what an exciting experience the pony rider boys had gone, outweighed all other emotions. the boys had written for a half hour or more when suddenly a shot rang out somewhere off to the northwest. the lads glanced up inquiringly. at first they saw nothing of interest. then a horseman swung into view, riding at a lively pace. as he drew near he began firing into the air from his revolver. "whoop!" he roared. there was a scattering of the loungers. it was plain that they knew the man. the boys resumed their writing. "whoopee! i'm the bad man from smoky creek! higher up the creek you go, the bigger they grow, and i'm right off the headwaters!" "bang, bang, bang!" "turn the coyotes loose! fer i'm out fer blood and a genwine killing! whoope-e-e-e!" "bang, bang, bang!" the crack of the six-shooter was almost wholly drowned by the yells of the fellow, but through all this the pony rider boys wrote on as calmly as if nothing out of the ordinary were occurring, though stacy gave the bad man a glance out of the corners of his eyes now and then. stacy was ready to run if, perchance, the fellow should turn a gun in his direction. the lads had met with such characters before, and knew that it was not usually the man who indulged in such loud boasts who was to be feared. still, it was a nerve-racking situation. professor zepplin and jim abs had appeared at the door at the first sound of the uproar, but they beat a quick retreat when they saw who and what was the cause of the disturbance. "is--is there any danger to the boys?" stammered the professor. "not unless they stir him up. that's smoky griffin, one of the meanest bullies in the whole blue ridge. everybody's afraid of him and i reckon they've got good reason fer being afraid. the kids don't seem to mind him, do they?" wondered abs. "the kids, as you call them, are quite able to take care of themselves, even against such a ruffian as that," answered the professor, proudly. "i hope he will let them alone. they might make up their minds not to endure too much imposition." smoky now sat in his saddle, reloading his weapon and leering at the cool youngsters on the porch. to find men, to say nothing of boys, who did not fear him, was such a new experience to smoky that it fairly hurt him. the ruffian had been a neighborhood bully for years, and was wholly accustomed to seeing men flee when he rode into town discharging his weapons, without any particular concern as to where the bullets went. lack of awe in anyone injured his abundant self-esteem. now that his weapons were reloaded, he again emptied them, driving all of the bullets into the porch posts at a level over the boys' heads. still the pony rider boys sat tight, though it must be confessed that they were making scant progress with their letter-writing. observing this, the bully, with undue deliberation, slid from his saddle and made his animal fast to the hitching-bar. then griffin strolled up to the porch, and grabbing one of stacy's feet gave the ankle a sharp twist. "do that again," drawled chunky, "and you'll get a kick from the northwest. you make a noise like one of those germans we licked in france. say, why don't you go get a job washing dishes in a lumber camp or something instead of trying to make folks think you're a man. go put on an apron, bo!" in another instant such things had started as had never before been seen at hunt's corners. chapter vi tad butler in action it may have been the tenderness of chunky's youth, or the look that flashed from his eyes, but smoky griffin, after a moment, strode over to tad butler who sat calmly writing a letter to his mother. "writin' letters?" jeered the bully. "your impudence and your grammar are quite in keeping with each other," answered tad laughingly. "if you consider it any of your business--i don't--then i'll say that i am writing to my mother." the loungers, overcome by their curiosity, now began slowly creeping out into the open where they might witness what they were sure would follow. the face of smoky griffin flushed a deeper red than its natural color at the cool audacity of the boy. tad had again turned to his writing. "none of my business, eh?" "i do not consider that it is. if you will be good enough to keep quiet until i finish writing, i shall be glad to talk to you." this was too much. the loungers fully expected to see tad topple over backwards with a bullet in his body. nothing of the sort occurred, however. but something else, still less expected, did happen. with a growl, smoky stretched forth a big paw, snatching the pad and letter from tad's knee. the bad man grinned broadly as he looked at the written page. "'dear maw,'" he read. tad rose slowly, stepping down from the porch. a dull red flush had grown into his cheeks. "'dear maw,'" continued griffin, after darting a quick glance at the approaching pony rider boy. "'i am writing you today to--'" "kindly hand over that letter," ordered butler in the quiet tone that to his companions meant trouble. "mighty perk today, ain't ye?" "hand over that letter!" tad's tone was pitched a shade higher. [illustration: "hand over that letter!"] for an instant griffin glared into the face of the resolute young fellow who stood confronting him. then smoky threw the letter on the ground and trod on it. "i reckon dear maw won't--" whack! tad had brought the flat of his hand across the fellow's red face in a resounding slap that was heard by every person there. even chops, now hiding behind the store, heard it, and his eyes grew large, for he expected to hear the report of a revolver following close upon the slap. in that case it would be high time for billy veal to flee. with a roar of rage the bully reached for his revolver. but his hand did not quite touch the butt of the gun. ere it had reached the weapon his head was jerked backward in a violent jolt. tad smote the ruffian a blow on the jaw that turned smoky half way around. a quick left-hand swing caught the man on the back of the head, sending him flat on his face. "walt, look out for the ponies!" commanded tad sharply, at the same time stooping over and deftly removing the bully's pistols, which he "broke," scattering the shells on the ground, then tossing the revolvers to the store porch. walter, a little paler than usual, walked steadily to where the stock was tied and leaning against the tie rail, one hand on his revolver, awaited further developments. they came quickly. the loungers, now augmented by a half dozen men who had appeared so suddenly as to puzzle the boys as to where they came from, began to murmur angrily. it was all right so long as smoky was having fun with another, but now that one of their kind should have been knocked down by a stranger stirred their blood within them. smoky was getting to his feet. the blood had gone from his face, leaving it pale under its coat of tan. reaching for his revolvers he found the holsters empty and tad butler standing before him with a sarcastic smile on his face. "stand fast, fellows!" directed tad in a low voice, nodding to chunky and ned. the mountaineers began crowding closer. "stand back, men," warned ned rector. "this is going to be fair play. the first man who reaches for his gun is going to get his right there and then. we didn't start this row, but we're going to see it to a finish now. the one who gets thrashed gets thrashed, and that's all there is about it." ned's resolute voice, backed by a six-shooter in his own hand and another in stacy brown's, had its effect. the mountaineers backed off a few paces, muttering. some were plainly tickled at the insult to the bully, but they, of course, did not express their satisfaction in words. it was not safe to do so just yet. perhaps smoky might take his revenge on them after having finished with the slender lad so calmly facing him. they did not believe there was a possibility of tad's coming out of the fray with a whole skin. at this juncture professor zepplin came tearing out. "here, here! stop that!" he commanded sternly. "keep back, professor," warned rector. "the fellow assaulted tad. i am keeping the others back. you must stay back with the rest." "but--but--but--" "the only 'but' that has any influence here is the butt of my revolver just now," answered ned, never for an instant taking his eyes from the mountaineers. "gimme a gun!" roared griffin. "the man who tries to give you a gun gets a bullet in his anatomy," answered rector. "i'll shoot the first man who tries to pass you a gun; then i'll drill you, too," added ned. smoky glared, first at the boys who were twirling their revolvers about their forefingers, then at his friends still further back. it was plain that he could look for no help from his associates. once more smoky roared. at least, he could punish the fellow who was responsible for this situation. smoky made a leap and a wild lunge for tad, but there was no tad there. the pony rider boy had leaped aside, laughing lightly. "come on. smoke up! i'm waiting for you!" urged butler in a tantalizing voice. griffin tried it again, but with no better result than before. the bully was thoroughly at home with a gun in his hands, but without a weapon he was as awkward as a sucking calf with its first pail of milk. already the bully was breathing hard. "short-winded, eh?" grinned tad. "you'll be more so after i have finished with you. it's my opinion that you need a lesson. it will be doing the community a service to give you one and i'm going to do it." smoky launched a vicious kick at the pony rider boy. tad dodged it, and ere smoky could recover his balance butler had planted a blow on the man's nose that literally turned that member upward. a second swift blow landed on the same tender spot. with a wild howl of pain, griffin began beating the air with his fists, striking; blindly and wildly. this was exactly what tad wanted. his antagonist had wholly lost control of himself. his was a blind, murderous rage. butler was playing with him like a cat with a mouse. now and then the pony rider boy would send in a punch, ever aiming for the damaged nose of smoky griffin, and smoky was spinning about so frequently that he had grown dizzy. he was bellowing like an angry bull, but every time he opened his mouth to bellow, tad's hard fist smote him on the nose. now the pony rider boy got in closer and began beating a tattoo on the bully's face. it was eyes, nose and mouth, now, that got the blows. tad was showing no preference. it was plain to the other boys that butler was determined to teach a lesson that smoky would not soon forget. tad's face now wore a set grin. he did not appear to be in the least ruffled, but the grin looked as if it had grown on his face and had been there for years. "put him out, why don't you?" jeered chunky. "smoky, have you had enough?" asked tad, stepping back a few paces. for a brief instant the bully glared through his bloodshot eyes, as if scarcely able to believe his senses. that a slender lad, such as the one before him, should possess so much skill and such a punch--it seemed to smoky like the kick of a mule--passed all comprehension. but the longer he gazed the more sure was griffin that he had but to stretch out his hand and crush tad butler. smoky tried it then and there. as a reward he got three blows, on as many different parts of his face, that sent him staggering backwards. tad now saw that he must fight to a finish. smoky never would give up as long as he were able to lift a hand. for that the pony rider boy admired him. from that moment on it was a one-sided battle. griffin's resistance was without effect, though had he been able to get a grip on his slender antagonist it would have ended the fight. tad swung the blows in so fast that his companions were unable to count them, and at last the bully, smoky griffin, sank groveling in the dirt, blubbering and crying like a child who has been thoroughly spanked. for the moment tad butler felt sorry for the fellow, sorry that he himself had been responsible for such a spectacle. "get up!" commanded the lad. "perhaps this may teach you a lesson to mind your own business in the future, and--" but tad was interrupted by a howl from the spectators. they broke out into cheers for the plucky lad who had downed the bully of two counties. as quickly as his maimed condition would permit smoky mounted and galloped away, trusting to his pony to find the way, for smoky's eyes were swollen nearly shut. tad butler had destroyed forever the power of the bully to terrorize hunt's corners. chapter vii on the way to smoky bald "the crowd always goes with the upper dog," nodded rector, as the mountaineers crowded about tad to congratulate him on his plucky fight. but tad was too much interested in rescuing the letter to his mother to give heed to the men who clamored to tell him what a brave boy he was. there were a few among the mountaineers, however, whose faces were dark and threatening. these did not offer their congratulations. they were men who, for reasons best known to themselves, sympathized with smoky griffin, but who had not dared to go to his assistance with the ready revolvers of ned rector and chunky brown so plainly in evidence. "come in here and help yourself to anything in my store," shouted jim abs from the doorway. "any galoot that can fit like that without turnin' a hair is welcome to anything that jim abs's got. come right along in, all the rest of you strangers. hi, men, if them ponies want to drink don't let 'em suffer." "thank you," smiled butler. "there is nothing that i can think of that would make me any happier than a glass of water, if i might trouble you." "shore, little pardner. want a bit of lemon in it?" "if you will let me pay for the lemon." "nary! i reckon you've done me more'n five cents' worth of benefit in getting rid of smoky griffin. he won't be around these parts right smart, i don't reckon." "then i will take the water without the lemon," decided tad. "you'll do nothing of the sort." jim hustled around, setting out five glasses which he filled from a pump at the rear of the store. into each glass he squeezed some juice from a lemon, adding a spoonful of sugar that he dipped from a barrel. he shoved the concoction across the counter grinning good-naturedly. "drink hearty, lads." "my goodness, i'm glad he gave me a glass of that lemonade," gasped chunky between gulps. "i nearly got lockjaw watching him fix it." "say, but you-all can fit," declared abs, addressing tad, at whom he gazed in admiring wonder. "thank you, sir. that's the very best glass of lemonade i've ever drunk," answered butler, smiling sweetly. the battle grin had given place to a smile that was almost girlish in its sweetness. it was a winning smile, too, but the person who thought an effeminate nature was hidden back of the smile was likely to be keenly disappointed. the boys went back to the porch where they sat down to finish writing their letters. tad's letter to his mother was so trodden with dirt that he was obliged to rewrite it. "if any more of those bad men come along here looking for a fight, please tell them to wait till i finish my letter, then i'll attend to them," said stacy pompously as he sat down. "say, that fellow didn't take his revolver, did he?" a mountaineer shook his head. chunky went out and picked up the weapon, examining it critically. he carried the weapon in and handed it to mr. abs. "i reckon you'd better keep this," he said. "smoke may come along looking for it when he gets his eyes open so he can find the way." "no, sir, not griffin. he won't show his face around these parts in a right smart time." "then you may have it. i wouldn't tote such a cheap gun as that. why, he couldn't hit the side of a house with it and do any damage," declared stacy. as chunky emerged from the store he discovered the big eyes of billy veal peering around the corner of the building. "you may come out now," grinned the fat boy. "circus all over and the concert let out. perfectly safe for you now. here, have a banana," offered stacy, helping himself to one from the bunch on the porch and tossing it to the colored man. "everything belongs to me around here." "chunky, go in and pay for that banana," commanded tad, glancing up with a disapproving frown. "but didn't the man say we could have whatever we wanted?" "you do as i tell you." "lend me a nickel, then," begged the fat boy. "regular cheap man, you are, stacy brown." growled rector. "here's your nickel," said tad, handing out a five-cent piece. "that makes seventy cents you owe me." "why do you want to remind me of it every time? don't you think i have trouble enough without having to worry over my debts all the while?" muttering to himself, chunky entered the store, laid the five cents on the counter, uttering a deep sigh as he did so, then returning to the porch threw himself down and began scribbling. after a few minutes of this stacy's head began to nod. he recovered himself with a start, grinned sheepishly, and started writing again. five minutes later he lay on his back on the porch, both legs hanging over, snoring loudly. he was still asleep when the boys, having finished their writing, went in to post their letters. this done they started for their ponies, chops having, in the meantime, packed the supplies. the professor was about to awaken the sleeping boy when tad whispered to him. the professor grinned. "mr. abs, when we are off yonder by that rise of ground you wake him up, will you?" "sure," chuckled the storekeeper. "you'll see some fun then." "how far is it to the rise?" asked tad. "nigh onto three miles." "good. that will give him a run for his money. thank you for all your kindness. we may be back here for further supplies later on. we've got two good, healthy food-consumers in our outfit." the storekeeper said he would be glad to see them at any time. they had spent nearly twenty dollars with him, so of course he would be glad to see them again. he didn't care if they came back for more supplies next day. in the meantime the party quietly rode away, settling down to a gallop after they had ridden far enough from the store so that the hoofbeats should not awaken the sleeper. while all this was going on the loungers sat about watching the sleeping chunky and grinning broadly. they were appreciating the joke, and they knew they were going to have some fun. smoky griffin's friends had taken their departure some time since, so there was no apprehension felt as to their interfering with stacy. the fat boy, in all probability, would not have awakened in hours had not someone carelessly stumbled over him when the party were drawing near the rise referred to by butler. chunky sat up grumbling. "say, fellows, what do you want to wake me up for--" stacy rubbed his eyes and gazed around him somewhat bewildered. thinking the boys must have gone into the store, he got up and hurried in. mr. abs was unusually busy and it was fully two minutes before he found time to lend an ear to stacy's urgings. "where's my party?" "what, you here yet?" demanded the storekeeper in well-feigned surprise. "i reckon i am. where's the rest of the crowd?" "don't you know?" "if i knew i wouldn't be asking you, would i?" this line of reasoning seemed to strike jim abs forcibly, for he nodded his head until chunky feared the storekeeper would dislocate his neck. "where are they?" "i reckon they're on their way to smoky bald." "smoky bald? on their way to smoky bald?" shouted the fat boy. "sure. didn't you know that?" chunky regarded the storekeeper keenly for a few seconds, then bolted out through the door. shading his eyes he gazed off across the plateau. there in the far distance he could just make out a body of horsemen jogging along. "is--is that my crowd?" he demanded, turning to the grinning faces of the mountaineers. "i reckon it is, boss," answered one. "that's what i call a mean trick!" shouted the fat boy, making a dash for his pony. in the meantime the pony had been moved around to the other side of the store. chunky howled when he failed to find the animal where he had left it, and it was some five minutes later when he discovered the horse. it did not take the boy many seconds to leap into the saddle, and urging his horse he went dashing off across the plain in pursuit of his party, shouting and occasionally shooting up into the air to attract their attention. a chorus of yells from the mountaineers followed him, but stacy brown was too angry to listen. already the pony's neck was flecked with foam, stacy urging the animal on to renewed efforts by frequent applications of the pointless rowels which he rubbed vigorously against the little animal's sides. "there he comes," shouted tad as a report from stacy's revolver reached their ears. glancing back the boys saw a cloud of dust rising between them and jim abs' store. "ride for it! we can get out of sight before he tops the ridge," shouted tad. professor zepplin, sharing in the youthful enthusiasm of the moment, touched spurs to his own horse and the party swept away. in the meantime stacy brown, the sweat rolling from his face, was pounding across the plateau. chapter viii stalking the fat boy the country on the other side of the rise was rugged, dotted with huge rocks and well wooded with second growth. it made an ideal hiding ground for one who wished to conceal himself. "cut off to the right," shouted tad. "watch out that he doesn't go by us and get lost," warned the professor. "you all keep quiet," directed butler. "i'm going to have some fun with stacy. maybe it will teach him to be more watchful. chunky would go to sleep even if he knew a band of indians were creeping up on his camp." the outfit swerved to the right as suggested by butler, and soon was well screened by rocks and foliage. it was some little time after that before chunky topped the rise. "hoo-oo-oo-oo!" he called in a long-drawn shout. "hoo-oo-oo-oo!" not a sound greeted his call. chunky fired his revolver into the air. instead of stopping to look about more carefully, and evidently not suspecting another trick, stacy dashed down the incline at a perilous pace, leaping small obstructions in order to take a shorter course to the point where he thought his party had entered the thicket. stacy had not penetrated into this very far before he pulled up and sat pondering deeply. even yet he did not think far enough to realize that the boys would not desert him in this way. riding slowly into a thinly wooded space the boy fired the remaining chambers of his revolver, listening intently, then, with a grunt, recharged the weapon and got down from his pony. "i'll stay here all the rest of the day. if they want me they can come back after me, that's all. if they don't, why i'll just go back to hunt's corners. i can get something to eat there. yes, and the fellows will think something's happened to me and they'll be in an awful stew. i'll pay 'em back for this trick, i will. i guess they can't get so funny with me without getting the worst of it in the end." tad butler, in the meantime, had left his pony and run towards the place where chunky had entered the rugged, wooded stretch. tad finally got near enough to be able to overhear the fat boy's angry mutterings. in fact, butler was near enough to have roped stacy. he thought of doing so, at one time, but decided that it would give chunky too much of a fright. then again, the fat boy might send a bullet tad's way in case he were to make a miss with the rope. tad, having stalked his prey as silently as a panther, had not even disturbed stacy's pony. but now butler observed that the animal was pricking up its ears, tossing its head as if it had scented something. "hang that pony. has he discovered me?" thought tad. "whoa there!" shouted chunky. "do you want to run away and leave me, too? well, if you do, you just go on. i don't ask any odds of a horse, i don't. i can walk and i can get along without the rest of that crowd." a faint noise to the left of tad called his attention sharply in that direction. the sound was so faint that it might have been caused by a bird alighting on a treacherous small stone. at least something alive had caused it. the listening boy was sure of that. crouching lower, tad listened, every faculty bent to the task of determining what had caused the slight sound. chunky's continued talking made the task somewhat more difficult. "i actually believe some other person is stalking him," muttered tad. "i wonder if ned has followed after me? no, he wouldn't come from that direction. he would not be likely to do so." "ho--ho--hum," yawned chunky. "i suppose i might as well take a nap while i'm waiting for something to turn up. guess i'll tie the critter, then stretch out on this rock. it feels nice and warm, but it's pretty hard." the fat boy actually did what he had suggested. after securing the horse, he lay down on the rock, pillowing his head on his arms. it was at about this time that butler came to the conclusion that some person other than one of his own party really was creeping up on stacy. from tad's position he was unable to see what was happening on the other side of the rock behind which he was crouching, so, taking a long chance, he crept around it on all fours like an ape. a stick snapped under a foot less than ten yards away. tad put on a little more speed. perhaps some harm was intended the fat boy. if so, tad proposed to know about it and take a hand in the affair himself. suddenly the lad discovered what had caused the disturbance, and he nearly betrayed himself by an exclamation as he made the discovery. there, cautiously creeping up on the drowsy fat boy, was a man. the man's face was swollen and bloody, but the swollen eyes were fixed on the form of chunky brown in a malignant stare. "smoky griffin!" gasped tad under his breath. the bully had discovered stacy. perhaps the fellow had been lying in wait for the party and had been a witness to their running away from brown. if so he had shown more cleverness than tad had given him credit for. the situation was certainly a critical one--for stacy. in his hand smoky held a stone that must have weighed at least ten pounds. it was plainly his intention to smash the stone down on the sleeping fat boy. tad butler was thankful that he had thought to play a further trick on his companion. perhaps that very prank had saved stacy's life, or would save it, for tad had already made up his mind what he was going to do. "i'll give smoky a surprise for the second time today," thought butler, cautiously slipping his rope from his belt, straightening out the coils wholly by the sense of touch, never for a second removing his gaze from the face of smoky griffin. finally, having got the rope in shape for a throw, he took a light grip on the honda, or slip knot, then stood crouched as if for a spring. smoky straightened up. tad was taking a great chance, but chunky was taking even greater. the bully drew back his hand. he was not more than six feet from where stacy brown lay asleep. suddenly the big loop of the pony rider boy's lasso wriggled through the air. smoky's keen ears caught a sound. he started to turn, then he uttered a yell and began clawing frantically at the nameless terror that had pinioned his arms to his side. with a yell of fright smoky toppled over on his side, then rolled to his back as tad leaped away and began dragging and tugging at the rope. then another yell was heard. this time it was the fat boy's. "oh, wow! wha--what is it?" he howled. just then his glances caught the livid face of smoky writhing on the ground. stacy did not see the rope, but he realized at once that griffin was there to do him harm. with another yell stacy let go three shots into the air. "yeow!" howled the fat boy. professor zepplin and the other two boys heard both the shots and the yells. tad's little joke was working out better than they had thought. laughing and shouting they put spurs to their mounts and rode at a fast gallop towards the spot where they decided chunky had met his surprise. ned was the first to reach the scene, with the professor following close after him, walter perkins and the grinning billy veal following hard behind. young perkins brought his pony up sliding. "what--what--" he gasped. "professor!" ned was out of his saddle in a flash. "put up your gun!" he shouted, as chunky began making threatening motions with the weapon. "that's right, ned. hold him!" cried tad, as ned threw himself upon the fallen bully. "what's this? what's this?" demanded the professor, gazing perplexedly at the sight. "nothing, only there were two of us planning to give stacy a surprise. this is our old friend, smoky griffin, otherwise the fallen bully. get up!" smoky got sullenly to his feet. "what is the meaning of this?" demanded the incisive voice of professor zepplin. smoky made no reply. "stacy, what was this man trying to do to you?" "i--i don't know. i--i was asleep." "he was asleep," mocked rector in a deep voice. "of course he was. he always is. i'm going to organize a first aid to the sleepy corps." "there won't be any corps, 'cause we'll all be patients," retorted stacy quickly. tad answered the look of inquiry in the eyes of the professor by explaining what had occurred. "i believe the fellow intended to crush stacy's head with the stone. it is fortunate that i got here ahead of him. what do you think we had better do with him?" "we will talk that over, tad. all being agreeable we will first seek a more favorable location for camping. is there water down in the gully yonder, guide?" "nassir, yassir. ah reckon." "go look for it. when you find water return here and lead us to it." "i would a heap sight rather be led to a lemonade stream," declared stacy. "you will be wanting hot and cold water on tap next," laughed ned. "i have them already," answered stacy. "you have?" "of course i have. i'm in hot water all the time, and there's plenty of cold water in the stream. say, i've got a bone to pick with you fellows, but--i've forgotten what it's about." billy veal had ridden away in search of water while the two boys were talking. at the same time the professor and tad were observing the prisoner, who had been tied to a tree, and were conversing in low tones. "i think we had better let him go in the morning, professor. we shall have to take our chances of more trouble from him. if he were wanted by the authorities, i shouldn't be in favor of this move. as it is, we can't bother with him." "yes, i agree with you. but why wait until morning?" urged the professor. "because he might hang around after dark and get into mischief. if we send him away in the morning we shall have an opportunity to get a good distance away from the fellow before night." "that is good judgment," agreed professor zepplin. "it shall be as you suggest. hasn't that lazy guide returned yet, boys?" "he is coming now, professor," answered walter. "it strikes me it is about time." "did you find water?" called ned. "nassir, yassir." "tad, how do you translate it?" "he has found water," answered butler. "i've got it," cried chunky. "if he'd said 'yassir, nassir,' that would mean that he had not, wouldn't it?" "you have solved the problem, chunky," nodded tad. "guide, lead the ponies to the place, and if the camping ground is suitable, prepare to pitch the camp. we will join you soon." "yassir." "hey, chops, you forgot something," called stacy. "yassir?" "no, sir, 'nassir.'" "i think we might as well be getting over to the camping ground, professor," suggested tad. "it is understood, then, that smoky is to remain with us until morning?" "yes, if you think best." the boy walked over and untied the bully. griffin started to walk away. butler laid a hand on his arm. "not so fast. we are not going to lose you yet awhile." "what are you goin' t' do?" "going to keep you with us for a time," smiled the pony rider boy. "you ain't got no right t' hold me." "i think you are right about that. neither did you have any right to interfere with us at hunt's corners, nor to try to shoot me, which you surely would have done had i not taken your pistol away. if you think we ought to let you go, why i'll do so after i have turned you over to a sheriff. which shall it be?" questioned butler sweetly. the prisoner grunted. his rage threatened to get the better of him, though he was making strenuous efforts to control himself. tad motioned to the man to come along, which smoky did, walking sullenly by the side of the pony rider boy, though he was not bound. he was as free as ever save that he knew any attempt to run away would meet with a quick, stern check. he had had evidence of the pony rider boy's prowess with his fists. smoky looked enviously at the pistol in its holster at tad's side. the boy observed the glance in the direction of the weapon, but made no comment. "keep your pistols where they won't be a temptation to smoky," whispered tad to the boys after they had reached the camping ground, which was on a gentle slope leading down to a mountain stream. they understood, and were on their guard from that time on. griffin sat sullenly watching the pitching of the camp. no one appeared to be giving the slightest attention to him, yet he knew he was being watched just the same. twenty minutes sufficed to pitch the tents, after which duffle-bags were stowed in the peak of the triangle formed by the rear of the tents, beds made, and all preparations completed for the night. "how's that for record time, smoky?" chuckled tad, turning to the prisoner. "all right," grumbled griffin. "come, cheer up," urged tad. "don't be a grouch. we don't like to have grouches around this camp. the fat boy is our official grouch. we can't stand more than one at a time." "i guess i'm no more a grouch than some other folks i know of," protested stacy. "say, i know now what that bone is i want to pick with you. why did you fellows run away from me this afternoon?" "run away from you?" exclaimed ned. "yes, run away from me. you needn't look so innocent. you know you did and you did it on purpose, and you nearly got me killed. that--that gentle soul over there was about to smash my head with a stone. he would have done so, too, if i hadn't woke up and scared him off with a shot or two." "you have another guess coming." "do you mean to say you didn't run away from me?" demanded stacy indignantly. "i haven't said. we were ready to go and we went, that's all there is to it." "no, that isn't all there is to it, ned. there's some more to it, but the other part hasn't come to pass yet," declared chunky significantly. "that means you, too," he added, turning to griffin. "i'll have something to say to you also for wanting to smash me with a rock. i ought to take it out of you right here and now. i would if you weren't so bunged up already. i don't like to pitch into a helpless man." smoky growled long and deep. tad signaled stacy to keep away from the prisoner. about half an hour later an early supper was spread. "come, griffin, join us," urged the professor. "don't want no supper," grunted the prisoner. "you must eat," insisted tad, stepping up to him. "because we are not good friends is no reason why you shouldn't eat. it will not impose any obligation on you. if you want to fight right after you have broken biscuit with us there's not the least objection in the world to your doing so." with an unintelligible grunt the fellow got up and dragged himself over to the blanket on which the supper had been spread. perhaps it was the savory odor of the bacon and the steaming coffee that so tantalized the prisoner as to cause him to be willing to sit down with his enemies and eat. at least smoky's appetite had not suffered by his unfortunate experiences. even chops opened his eyes on seeing the mountaineer stow away food. chunky watched the fellow almost admiringly. after supper the prisoner was permitted to smoke by the campfire. tad butler was shrewd. he hoped by this friendliness to disarm the bully so that the fellow, when released, would go on about his own business and give them no further trouble. butler did not know griffin. his hope was vain. revenge deep and deadly was smouldering in the heart of the mountaineer. at that very moment he was planning how he might get even with the boys who had so humiliated and punished him. they would hear from smoky griffin again and in no uncertain tone. chapter ix revenge almost at hand "i'm sorry, mr. smoke, that we shall have to tie you tonight, but we will make you as comfortable as possible under the circumstances. you shall be untied in the morning, though i warn you not to play tricks on us. we may appear easy, but you ought to know we aren't so easy when our good nature has been abused," warned tad as he tied the hands and feet of the prisoner, placing the man under a blanket laid across four stakes driven into the ground. "there, i think you will be reasonably comfortable." griffin had offered no resistance to the tying. perhaps he knew it would be useless to do so. there were too many hard-muscled young men about to make resistance profitable, so smoky submitted and was tucked in his little bed for the night. "is the prisoner well secured?" asked the professor. "i think so," answered butler. "i will keep an occasional eye on him during the night." the camp was soon in slumber. stacy brown's breathing could be heard clear and distinct above all other sounds. tad from his bunk commanded a view of the prisoner, and now and then the lad would awaken and glance out at the man lying there, apparently asleep. but griffin was not asleep. he lay alternately staring at the fire and at tad's rifle which stood against a tree some twenty feet from where smoky lay bound. leaving his rifle out there looked like carelessness on the part of the pony rider boy. after a time smoky began to wriggle and grunt. he was trying to free himself of his bonds, believing that the camp was sound asleep. and so it was, with the exception of butler, who now lay wide awake observing the efforts of the prisoner. tad did not believe the fellow would be able to free himself and was therefore amazed when all at once smoke threw up his hands clear of the rope that had bound them together. next the prisoner began tugging at the rope around his ankles. all this time tad lay back with hands under his head, curiously watching the man. then smoky's feet came free, but the mountaineer did not get up at once. instead, he lay panting and peering about him to see if his efforts had been observed. apparently they had not. smoky began creeping toward the rifle standing there against the tree, though butler did not appear to understand what the man was trying to do. about this time, however, tad got up and yawned audibly. griffin instantly flattened himself on the ground. the pony rider boy stepped out without even casting a look in the mountaineer's direction and sleepily made his way to the campfire, which he prodded listlessly, then piled on more wood until the fire began to crackle and snap, sending a shower of sparks up into the night air. smoky eyed tad suspiciously for a moment, then began wriggling towards the rifle against the tree. tad, apparently unconscious of his danger, still stood gazing dreamily into the crackling flames of the campfire. griffin half raised himself and stretching forth his hands he grasped the weapon and drew it towards him, almost hugging the gun in his delight. at last smoky griffin was himself again, and his swollen eyes narrowed as he gazed at the boy standing there before him. a moment of hesitation followed. suddenly the bully threw the weapon to his shoulder and pulled the trigger. no report came. smoky pulled the trigger again, but with no better result. he uttered a growl of rage. tad turned slowly towards the mountaineer, grinning broadly. "after you have finished trying to shoot me, put my gun back where you found it, if you don't mind," suggested the pony rider boy easily. "you may thank me for preventing your being a murderer. i've been watching you all the evening. i saw you when you first began trying to get clear of the ropes. i saw you when you started for the rifle. that didn't worry me, for i drew the cartridges before putting the gun there about supper time. smoky, you've made a monkey of yourself and you've shown what an easy mark you are. put down that gun!" the last words were uttered in a stern voice. for a brief second the bad man hesitated, then with a growl he clubbed the rifle and sprang for tad butler. a few feet only separated them. tad was now in greater peril than he had been when the desperate man was drawing a deliberate bead on him. still the lad did not appear to be disturbed in the least. "don't come any nearer, mister man!" warned butler in a calm voice. smoky griffin found himself gazing into the muzzle of tad butler's revolver. this brought the mountaineer to a quick halt, his eyes blazing with passion. slowly the rifle was lowered from its clubbed position, smoky still grasping it by the barrel. "put the gun back where you found it," directed tad. the conversation had been carried on in a low tone, so as not to disturb the camp. tad was still grinning. he had enjoyed the little scene immensely, besides which he had taught the former bully of hunt's corners another wholesome lesson. "now stand where you are, that's a good little boy. don't try to run. you might be stopped so suddenly that you would take a tumble. ned!" one call was sufficient. ned rector came stumbling out, rubbing his eyes sleepily. "wha--what is it?" "if you don't mind, i wish you would tie our friend here--" "but, how did he get loose?" "he managed it all by himself, then he tried to shoot me. i knew he would attempt to get away. we will tie him up this time so he won't get loose. secure him to that tree, ned, and tie him good and tight, but not so tightly that it will hurt. smoky, you sit down with your back against that tree. you will be quite comfortable there and it is only a few hours till daybreak now," suggested butler. smoky did not obey at once. thereupon ned pushed him backwards against a tree. in that instant the mountaineer's arms gripped rector around the waist, pinioning ned's arms to his sides, and though ned struggled to free himself he might as well have tried to wriggle from the grip of an iron vise. the boy thought his ribs were being crushed in. ned did not utter a sound, but his face was red and he was struggling desperately, while tad stood grinning. butler had expected this very result. it was as excellent a lesson for ned as had been the previous lesson for the desperado. tad strolled over to them. "now, smoky, you have done about enough for one night. let go and sit down there. you know what will be done if you don't obey orders." griffin was too full of ferocious rage to obey. he was determined to inflict all the damage that he could, on the boy in his grip. tad stepped quickly behind the bully. placing a hand around over smoky's forehead, the other hand pressing on the mountaineer's adam's apple, butler gave the head a quick backward jerk. the fellow's grip on ned relaxed almost instantly. he staggered back choking and gasping, whereupon tad thrust the ruffian from him and leaped back out of the way of those powerful arms. "sit down before i put you down!" commanded the pony rider boy sternly. "let me at him, let me at him!" yelled rector. his cry aroused the others. all hands tumbled out shouting. "what's going on here?" thundered professor zepplin, charging into the scene clad only in his pajamas. "just a little bout with our friend," answered tad, laughing. "ned, you keep your head. get down there as i told you, griffin!" the fellow sank down, with a hopeless expression on his face, but his eyes were full of menace. tad stood guard over him while rector with set, angry face gave the rope several twists about smoky's body, finally securing the rope to the other side of the tree. "there, i'd like to see you get away from that hitch, my slippery friend," announced ned. "there's nothing to tell, professor, except that griffin managed to release himself. i don't think he will try it again. he has learned that we are not easily caught napping," said tad. "he is an ungrateful wretch," growled the professor. "griffin, i am amazed that you should act like that after we have treated you so kindly. we ought to turn you over to an officer. i am not sure that we shall not do so on the morrow." "turn in, you people. i will hang around until morning," directed tad, who went to his tent and lay down. he did not wholly trust to the prisoner's bonds, so the lad kept up his vigil until morning when the others began to stir, after which he dozed off for a catnap. the prisoner this time was not wholly released for his meal. his hands were freed, but that was all. still he ate a hearty breakfast, after which he was brought over to the campfire while chops was clearing away the stuff preparatory to packing and getting under way. "we have very little to say to you this morning, griffin," began the professor, after clearing his throat, as he always did before making an important announcement. "where do you live?" "none of your business." "it is immaterial. i was merely about to suggest that you return to that home, wherever it may be, and stay there. be warned and keep away from this outfit. you will get into serious difficulties if you harass us further. we don't want to see you about our camp again while we are on the ridge. tad, will you liberate the prisoner?" butler did so. "you may go," he said with a wave of the hand toward the fellow's pony, saddled and bridled ready for him close at hand, smoky did not even glance at them. with lowered head he climbed into his saddle, put spurs to his mount and quickly disappeared from the scene. chapter x biscuit and mystery "there, i hope we have seen the last of that ruffian," exclaimed the professor as smoky rode away. "i am afraid we haven't, professor," answered tad, with a shake of the head. "why--why, what makes you think that?" "he is a vengeful man. he is already plotting to get even with us. however, there's no use to worry about him. we will take care of him if he comes around our outfit." "yes, we'll take care of smoke," jeered chunky. "i wonder if there are any more like him in these parts?" "i shouldn't be surprised," returned tad. "you did very well in helping to hold the other mountaineers off yesterday, chunky. but you spoiled it all twice." "how?" "by going to sleep on the job. never go to sleep unless there is good reason for doing so." "there was good reason. i should say there was," protested the fat boy. "what was the reason?" "i was sleepy." "surely, you could not ask a better reason, tad," said the professor with a grim smile. "i've nothing more to say?" laughed tad. "that argument is unanswerable." ned suggested that they get under way, so they mounted and rode away towards smoky bald, that huge towering mountain, rising up into the sky nearly seven thousand feet. the pony rider boys were now approaching what was known as "the land of the sky," and their spirits were fully as high as the name. about them the country was becoming more rugged, making progress slower and slower, but they did not mind. by this time it was unusual to see a human being, though at rare intervals they came upon a mountaineer's cabin. the occupants of such always were suspicious of the strangers, and the boys cut short their calls with merely passing words of greeting. for two days following the departure of the bully they had pressed on and on. but now another disturbing factor had come up to irritate them. their food was most mysteriously disappearing. no matter how many biscuit they baked, these were sure to disappear within a few hours. a similar state of affairs, though not to the same extent, had existed on their way through smoky pass. now it had sprung up again. at first tad suspected stacy brown and his appetite; then the guide came in for a share of suspicion, but not a clue was the lad able to find. he thought he had checked the losses when he ordered all the reserve stores piled in the corner of his tent with his duffle-bag, but the mystery still remained unsolved. "it's my opinion that there's something going on around these diggings," declared chunky as they were sitting about the campfire one evening. "there is no doubt about that," replied tad. "if you can find out just what is going on you will be doing the pony rider boys, as an association, a real service." "i had a dream last night," began chunky. "did you dream that you were living in marble halls?" chuckled rector. "no, i couldn't dream anything so pleasant when you were snoring in the next tent. i've had the same dream for three nights running. and, fellows, it was an awful dream. i know it means trouble for someone." "well, what was your dream?" asked tad. "i don't want to hear it if it is another of your old chestnuts," declared ned. "go on, tell it, chunky," urged walter. "it was a terrible dream," replied the fat boy in a deep, thrilling voice. "well, well, surely it couldn't have been any more terrible than this suspense," interrupted butler. "i dreamed--i dreamed--" stacy paused to gaze feelingly at his companions. "you dreamed? yes?" reminded rector. "i dreamed--i dreamed i saw three blind men leading a one-eyed horse to water." "oh, pooh!" scoffed ned rector. "three nights," continued stacy, "did i dream of this nerve-racking scene. don't look at me like that, william veal! that's just the way the blind men stared at me." "go on," laughed tad. "what did the three blind men and the one-eyed horse do?" "they went down to the creek and took a drink," crooned stacy, gazing steadily at the wide-eyed chops. chops was actually pale about the lips. "then--then i dreamed another--the most awful of all." "yes, yes?" pleaded walter, now really worked up to a high pitch of excitement. "for three nights running i dreamed that i saw a black cat chasing a three-legged rat through a field of red clover. br-r-r-r!" the last word came out with explosive force. billy veal leaped to his feet with a yell. the pony rider boys burst into a roar of laughter, with the exception of stacy, who sat as solemn as an owl. chops was trembling, for, like most of his race, he was superstitious. "if i might make so bold as to inquire," said tad after quiet had once more been restored, "why was the black cat chasing the three-legged rat through the field of red clover?" "the cat thought the rat had the biscuit that have been stolen from this camp, i reckon." this was the signal for another outburst, in which billy veal took no part. the guide was too thoroughly frightened to be amused. his superstitious nature had been strongly appealed to. "it means that there's trouble brewing in this outfit. i shouldn't be surprised if some one were going to die. i'm sure it will be the villain who has been stealing our biscuit." "no, that isn't what it means," interrupted rector. "what does it mean, then?" demanded stacy. "it means that you have been overloading your stomach for the last three nights before turning in. i am beginning to think it was you who stole and ate the stuff." "you must be a--an oracle. that's it. you're one of those dream books," retorted chunky. "now seeing you are an oracle, what would it have meant had the rat been running through the clover without any legs at all? answer me that if you can, mr. dream book!" "very simple. almost childish. that would mean that instead of eating biscuit before going to bed, you had been eating mince pie." "you are almost human, ned," grinned chunky. "but you don't know a gnome when you see one." "a gnome?" "sure thing. those were gnomes--the real spooky, spinky kind that give you the shivers up and down your back when they're out gnoming. chops knows what a gnome is, don't you, chops?" "n-n-n-nassir, yassir," chattered the guide. "don't, for goodness' sake, chunky. he'll run in a minute," begged butler. "and--and that wasn't all," continued stacy. "i heard the cat utter a name, and the rat had a face just like--" "what did the cat say, and--" "the cat said, 'meow!'" jeered ned. "no it didn't. the cat said 'veal, veal,' just as plainly as you could imagine," nodded the speaker. chops fairly gasped. "yes, but what did the rat look like?" urged tad. "well, it looked to me like a rat," answered the fat boy solemnly. "you will all have the nightmare tonight if you don't choose a more cheerful topic for discussion just before turning in," warned professor zepplin. "yes, change the subject," urged rector. "i don't want to dream of four-legged rats and blind mice, and besides, chops is on the verge of nervous prostration." chunky got up and stretched himself. he strolled over to where billy stood leaning against a rock. "the rat had your face," he whispered sharply in the ear of the guide. chops uttered a blood-curdling yell and with a leap cleared the campfire and started racing for the tall timber. [illustration: "there he goes!"] "there he goes," wailed ned. "after him!" shouted tad. "guide! guide! come back here, guide!" roared the professor. but chops was on fleet feet, with four shouting, yelling boys in hot pursuit. "that's the last we shall see of our guide," moaned the professor, sitting down heavily. chapter xi an interrupted journey the yells of the pony rider boys, instead of inducing chops to stop only caused him to run the faster. stacy brown was soon at the tail-end of the procession. tad was in the lead, ned rector close upon his heels, with walter perkins a good thirty yards behind ned. "stop, you ninny!" shouted tad. "come back here." "n-n-nassir," floated back the voice of the guide. chops had enough. he was more frightened than ever before in his life. he believed that the fat boy had really had the dream, and that trouble was brewing for billy veal. "we'll never get him," gasped rector. "yes, we shall. get your rope. we'll have him. we'll chase him all night but we'll land him. chops! oh, chops!" "save your breath," jeered ned. "i'm going to. oh, what i won't do to that guide when i do catch him!" gritted tad. "yes, when you do." butler put on a fresh burst of speed, touching the ground only with his toes, as he ran, leaving ned still farther behind. "gracious, i didn't think tad could sprint like that," gasped rector. "wait for me," howled chunky, now far to the rear. the boys got to laughing so heartily at this that chops gained several rods on them, but tad quickly closed up the gap and was soon drawing down on billy veal at a killing pace. the guide was a good runner, but he did not have the staying powers possessed by tad butler. tad, no doubt, could have run all night had such a thing been necessary, for he was a strong, healthy boy with not an ounce of extra flesh on his body, and his muscles were of the quality of pliant steel. tad now drew out to one side and a few minutes later he passed the man they were chasing, though veal did not know of this. the colored man came tearing along at almost express train speed, when tad's rope wriggled through the air. the throw was a true one. the loop landed fairly over the head and shoulders of chops, was drawn taut by the runner himself, and in the next instant billy veal stood pivoting on his head on the ground. "gracious, i hope he hasn't broken his neck," cried tad. "i--i didn't think he would go down so heavily as that." "where is he? where is, the guide?" shouted ned rector, coming up with a splendid burst of speed, and not breathing hard at all. "look out, or you'll step on him," warned tad. "where is he?" repeated ned. "chops is standing on his head just ahead of you behind those bushes. get hold of him so i can let up on the rope." with a yell of triumph, ned threw himself on the colored man, who was too dazed from the shock of his fall to offer much resistance. at this juncture walter perkins came in on a trot, followed after an interval of a minute or so by the shouting, puffing fat boy. "you are to blame for this, chunky," growled ned, trying to be stern. "it strikes me that you are sitting on chops yourself. you surely can't blame me for that," retorted stacy. "here, you, get up and come back to camp with us," commanded tad. "yes, chops, the gnomes will get you out here," reminded stacy. "stop it! you'll have him on the run again," rebuked tad. chops looked up, wide-eyed. "hit jes' lak dat, fer fae'," muttered billy. "ah done seen dem myself." "there! what did i tell you?" demanded chunky triumphantly. "he 'seen dem himself.' did they have biscuit in their mouths, chops?" "yassir, nassir. he ain't say nuffin' 'tall. he jess look lak dat." the guide made big staring eyes, as if peering at something in a world unseen by the rest. "say, quit that! you'll give me the creeps soon," declared ned. "are we going to take him back to camp or must i sit on him all the rest of the night?" "let him up, ned," nodded tad, recoiling his rope. "if you try to run, billy, i'll rope you again. do you want me to rope you some more?" "yassir, nassir." chops was shivering as he got up and started slowly back towards camp, casting apprehensive glances at every bush he passed. a wild yell from the bushes bordering the trail they were following nearly sent the guide off on another sprint. he surely would have run had not tad grabbed him by the arm and given him a shaking. "stacy brown, if you do that again you will have to answer to the professor. fun is fun, but the fun's all played out of this affair. come along here, billy." billy was marched into camp, set down by the fire, and ordered to remain there till told to get up. the professor tried to assume a stern expression, but the attempt was a failure, finally ending in a chuckle, in which chunky, who had just arrived, joined with his familiar "haw, haw, haw." "oh, stop it!" commanded ned. "you make me think i'm back among the missouri mules. what are we going to do with this fellow, professor?" "i'll tell you what to do with him," spoke up chunky. "give him a tostie wostie--in other words, a petrified biscuit, and tuck him in his li'l crib where the little gnomes can't tickle his feet, and he'll be all right after he gets to sleep," suggested the fat boy without so much as the suggestion of a smile on his face. "guide, you must not take the jokes of these young men seriously. they were just fooling," began the professor. "they? you mean stacy brown," interrupted ned. "i wasn't fooling anyone. he saw them himself. didn't you see the gnomes sitting on a rock, chops, and didn't they make faces at you because you were running away?" persisted the fat boy. billy nodded weakly, moistening his lips with his tongue and swallowing a lump in his throat. such a hopeless expression of fright appeared on his face that the boys, unable to contain their mirth longer, uttered shouts of laughter, in which the dignified professor joined. "you see! i told you so," nodded stacy. "young man, i shall have to ask you to cease playing pranks on the guide. we can ill afford to be without a guide in this wilderness of trees and rocks." "a guide?" laughed tad. "yes, a guide." "too bad we haven't one," muttered stacy. "it is to you i am speaking, master stacy. you must not tantalize billy. let him alone. have i your promise that you will do so?" "if i promise i have to, don't i?" questioned the fat boy. "certainly you do." "then i guess i won't promise," he replied after a brief reflection. the professor gave it up with a shrug of his shoulders. he asked the guide if they should tie him up for the night or if he would lie down and behave himself. billy decided that he would prefer the latter, so they left it that way. chops was then permitted to return to his duties, getting the camp to rights for the night, but it was observed that he gave a nervous little jump every time he heard an unusual sound. "i'll bet he sees more than a black cat in his sleep tonight," tad confided to rector. "i don't care what he sees so long as he doesn't snore. and i give you due notice that if chunky persists in snoring as he has been doing lately either he or i will have to sleep out in the bushes out of sound of the camp. why, tad, i am on the verge of nervous prostration from loss of sleep," declared ned. "you surely look it, too," replied tad with a grin. "if stacy chases chops out of camp again i am quite positive that it will be stacy brown who will sleep in the bushes," resumed ned in a tone of voice loud enough for stacy to hear. "not so that anyone will notice it, he won't," called back the fat boy. the night passed uneventfully. on the morrow, bright and early, the party continued their journey into the heart of the mountains. that day being saturday, according to their usual practice, the pony riders went into camp to remain until monday morning. this also gave the ponies a much-needed rest. for this weekend stay, the tents were pitched in a deep, sombre canyon, that reminded the boys of bright angel gulch in the grand canyon where they had encountered so many exciting experiences. it was near the middle of the forenoon on sunday when a stranger walked into camp, moving in long, determined strides. in the crook of his right arm he carried a rifle. the boys greeted the newcomer pleasantly, at the same time offering him the hospitality of a cup of coffee. "i don't want no coffee," grunted the stranger, with a reckless disregard for the english language. "i want a heap sight more of you, though." "first, may i ask who you are?" questioned tad butler. "i'm not here to answer questions. i reckon you'll have to answer some instead." "let's have the questions, then," smiled tad. "but if you won't answer questions why should you expect it of us?" "because i'm an officer, and i'm here on business." "business! what business?" blurted stacy, jumping up. "are you after chops?" "humph! more likely i'm after all of you," rejoined the stranger. "but that depends." "if you are an officer i wish you had happened along a couple of days ago," said tad. "we had a lot of trouble with an imitation bad man, smoky griffin. know him?" "no. i'm not that kind of an officer." "he's a corporal in the home guards," guessed chunky. "my man," broke in professor zepplin, with extreme dignity, "will you be good enough to explain just what your business is?" "yes. i'm a government officer, and i've come to give you notice to quit, and right smart at that. it's your move, and you'll have to get up and dust out of these parts. if you don't, i'll lock you up in jail, to start with. then, after you've waited a few months for the court to sit, you'll find that you have worse medicine to take. is that plain enough?" "i--i don't understand your attitude," stammered professor zepplin. "mebby this will mean something to you," said the newcomer, holding up a furry object. "what is it?" "looks like the paw of the black cat that i dreamed i saw chasing the three-legged rat through the field of red clover," declared stacy. tad motioned to the fat boy to be silent. "it is a deer's foot, isn't it?" he asked. "you've guessed it, young man." the thought came to some of them that perhaps they had a crazy man to deal with. the professor decided to humor their caller. "very interesting, very interesting," he nodded. "you shot him, eh?" "i did not." "no? then i do not understand what particular interest attaches to the foot." "i reckon you would if you wanted to. you've seen it before," grunted the man. "i beg to differ with you. i have not seen a deer foot, let alone the animal belonging to it, in some months. why do you insist upon this?" "because one of your party shot the deer. you've got deer inside of you at this particular minute and--" stacy rubbed his stomach and rolled his eyes. "i wish i had," murmured the fat boy. "now just what do you want to say to us?" demanded the professor, considerably irritated. "that you'll have to get off this ridge right quick or it'll be the worse for you," announced the stranger in a commanding voice. chapter xii facing new obstacles "leave the ridge?" cried the boys in chorus. "leave these mountains? is that what you mean?" demanded the professor indignantly. "i reckon that's it." "why so? why should we leave here until we have finished our journey?" interjected tad, eyeing the man keenly. "because i say so. i'm not talking to you." "but i am talking to you, sir. i am one of the interested parties, you see, and i want to know." "i'm from missouri, also," spoke up ned, stepping forward. "i'm one of the leading citizens of that state, too. i'm not a voter, but i can make just as much noise as any voter in the state when it comes to the cheering," declared the fat boy, pushing his way into the semicircle about the visitor, who was seated on a rock with his rifle over his knees. "maybe you fellows think this is a joke. anybody'd think so from the way you act," snapped the officer. "far from it," replied the professor sharply. "well, you've got to git, that's all, and right smart at that." "how do we know you are an officer?" demanded butler. "because i say so." "that's no proof," declared ned boldly. "your authority--what is your authority?" urged the professor. "i reckon this is authority enough," declared the man, tapping his rifle significantly. "we've got some of the same kind, several of them in fact," answered tad, with a good-natured laugh. "when it comes to that i think you will find our authority fully as convincing as yours." for the moment matters looked serious. the man's face turned red. he shifted his weapon a little and glared at the young man who had really uttered a challenge. "whether or not you are an officer i do not know," went on the professor. "however, i have a right to know why you make this singular request." "no request about it. i told you to mosey." "but why?" "you're on government property." "well, what of it?" "you've been shooting on government property?" "i deny it," thundered professor zepplin, slapping his thigh with the flat of his hand. "we may have been shooting, but not at game," explained tad. "professor, are we on a government reservation?" "i was not aware of the fact," was the reply, made in a half sarcastic tone. "i'll look at the map. go and bring it, tad." "stay where you are!" commanded the officer. "my, but he's touchy, isn't he?" wondered the fat boy. "guess we'll have to serve him the same way we did chops last night, rope and sit on him." "what is your name?" asked professor zepplin, regarding the man shrewdly. "never you mind about my name. uncle sam is a good enough name." "depending upon who wears it," scoffed ned rector. "see here, i don't want to hear any more of your talk, not from any of you. you're an impudent lot of youngsters, though you're old enough to know better." "you will kindly direct your conversation to me, my man," broke in the professor. "i am in charge of this party and wholly responsible for anything they may do. in the first place, i deny that any of us has shot any game on the ridge. in the second place, i know of no law that will prevent our passing over a government preserve, though there are preserves where firearms are not permitted." "this is one of them," interrupted the man. "where do the preserves end and where do they begin?" demanded tad shrewdly. the mountaineer hesitated. for the moment he appeared confused. then he made answer. "i reckon a few miles this side of hunt's corners and on to the other side of old smoky bald." "nonsense!" exploded butler. "i don't believe it." "quiet, tad," rebuked the professor. "say, you mister man, we don't talk business on sunday," spoke up stacy. "come around tomorrow morning and we'll talk to you during business hours and give you all the talk you want, with a little something else it you are looking for trouble. i guess you're another of those bad men from smoky creek, and the further up you get the worse they are." the face of the officer turned white with anger. "i agree with the young man," nodded the professor. "you may call here tomorrow morning, stranger. we shall be here until nine o'clock, after which we shall no doubt be on our way toward smoky bald, provided we do not change our minds. by that time we shall be in a position to talk more intelligently with you and perhaps you on your part will be able to converse more courteously. good-day." the professor uttered the words with more than his usual firmness. always firm and decisive in his manner of speaking, the present utterance was calculated to impress him to whom it was directed. the supposed officer started, shifted his gun, then rose angrily. "i haven't got time to argue here all day--" "nor have we," replied professor zepplin evenly. "i reckon my boss will have something to say when i report how you used a government officer." "if you could show us any good reason why we should be ejected we should be glad to comply with your command. as it is i do not believe you have the least right in the world to order us from the ridge. if such a right existed, you wouldn't have to order us off. we should go without being told," said professor zepplin. "if ye don't keep shet i'll arrest the whole pack and parcel of ye." "i should esteem it a favor if you would," retorted the professor belligerently. the boys wanted to cheer professor zepplin, but they did not think that would tend to soothe the spirits of their visitor. "i'll give ye till tomorrow morning to get off the range," declared the man. "if you're here it will be the worse for you. i reckon i haven't got anything more to say." "i am glad of it. you have said quite enough already," snorted professor zepplin. without another word the stranger got up and strode away. tad stood irresolute for a moment, then he skulked away on the trail of their late visitor. "tad, tad!" called the professor. "where are you going?" "i'll be back in a minute. i'm just going over here a piece. don't worry. i may learn something," answered the boy, trotting back so that the stranger might not hear what he was saying. "i reckon i'll go with you," announced ned. but tad merely shook his head, and disappeared around the corner of a rock. the lad came upon their visitor much sooner than he had expected. in fact, the pony rider boy had a narrow escape from being discovered. had he not thrown himself flat on the ground, the mountaineer surely would have seen him, for at the moment of discovering the man the fellow was turning to look back. tad was screened by a clump of bushes, through which he was peering. the late visitor started on; then, when he considered it safe to do so, tad followed. a short distance from the camp the visitor paused, giving a low whistle. another man rose and came forward to meet him, much to the lad's amazement. "good gracious, the woods appear to be full of these fellows. i wonder what it means?" tad's question was not to be answered at that moment. after holding a brief conversation the two men walked away together. butler saw them mount their ponies that had been secreted in among the trees and ride away. "a precious pair of rascals," decided the pony rider boy, hurrying back to camp. "well, you came back with a whole skin, did you?" grinned ned. "did you discover anything, tad?" questioned the professor. "yes, sir, i did, though i don't see that the knowledge i gained is going to be of any great use to us." "what is it?" "there are two men. the man who was here met another fellow in the clearing over yonder. they talked together a little and then rode away. it's my opinion that something is going on in these mountains and that it might be a good idea for us to keep a weather eye open." "what did i tell you?" demanded stacy. "about what?" questioned tad, turning to his companion. "about the blind men and the one-eyed horse, and the black cat and the three-legged rat," answered the fat boy triumphantly. "i knew something was going to happen. chops knew it, too. those gnomes weren't roosting on the rocks for nothing. i guess i know something about gnomes. look out for the black cat. he's a trouble-maker." "we have important matters to discuss," interrupted professor zepplin. "be good enough to cease your nonsense, stacy." "nonsense? nonsense? well, i like that. here i give you warning of trouble and you call it nonsense. i'd like to see any weather bureau hit off the weather as closely as i hit off trouble." "you cause more than you hit off," answered tad. "professor, what do you make of this?" "nothing. i don't know what to think of it." "nor do i, but as i said before, it seems to me that, if that fellow really is an officer, he must be crazy. oh, i forgot, we were going to look at the map." "to be sure. you will find it in my dufflebag." walter ran to the bag, returning with the map, which they straightened out on a rock, placing four small stones on the corners to keep the map open. "there is the southern line of the government preserves," said tad, pointing. "about where are we now?" asked rector. "i should say about here," answered butler, laying a finger on a dark spot on the map. "here is smoky bald, here is the pass in which we are encamped, and yonder is the rise of ground over which we came on our way from hunt's corners. according to my reckoning, we must be a good twenty-five or thirty miles to the south of the government line. i guess we've got our friend now." "he's a scoundrel!" cried the professor. "he is. he must be," declared tad. "but, what have the men in mind?" "that remains to be seen," replied the professor. "perhaps their only object is to get rid of us, and perhaps--" "perhaps they are planning some crooked business," finished butler. "what have you decided to do, professor?" "what do you boys wish to do?" "we don't want to be turned back if we can help it. so long as we are convinced that the fellow is a fraud, i say let's go right along regardless of him and his crooked business," urged tad. "are you all agreed on this, boys?" demanded the professor. "we are," cried the pony rider boys. "then the matter is definitely settled. we move tomorrow morning, the same as usual, and if our friend sees fit to interfere with us we will show him that we are well able to take care of ourselves, that we are not tenderfeet," declared the professor belligerently. chapter xiii an exhibition of sheer pluck "no, we will not break camp until nine o'clock," said the professor when, on the following morning, ned proposed that they get under way immediately after breakfast. "we promised our friend that we should be here until that hour, you know." "then i think i will scout around to see if anything is doing," suggested tad, who immediately hurried from camp. he returned half an hour later with the information that there wasn't a human being within a mile of them so far as he had been able to learn. it then lacked an hour of nine, so the boys passed the time with packing, joking and talking. they were not greatly troubled, nor would they have been had they known what was before them that day. professor zepplin, too, was filled with the spirit of the occasion. the old soldier never shrank when it came to a battle, though naturally he felt the responsibility of having four boys to look after, even though those boys were pretty well able to take care of themselves, as they had demonstrated on numerous occasions. an inventory of the supplies showed that everything was accounted for. this, stacy declared, was because he had frightened the three-legged rat away from camp. he said he had a worse fright in store for it if it showed itself around that outfit again. chops looked very solemn at this. the fright the guide had had served to chasten and subdue him. this was not lost on the pony rider boys, nor was the significance of it, either. "nine o'clock. time to move," announced the professor finally, closing his watch with a snap. "we will start now. are you ready, boys?" "all ready," answered the lads in chorus. "all ready to start--something!" added chunky. "no, we will not start anything, my boy," rebuked the professor. "stacy is quite given to slang of late," laughed tad. "i have observed as much," answered the professor dryly. "i trust you will cut out slang, young man." the professor eyed the fat boy sternly. "i trust you will, too, professor," retorted stacy. "i--i use slang?" demanded the professor indignantly. "yes. you said i must 'cut out' slang. if that isn't slang, my dictionary is ahead of the times," returned stacy triumphantly. "he has you there, professor," chuckled tad. "he surely has," agreed the other boys smiling broadly. "young men, i admit it. i am properly rebuked, and i assure you the offense will not be repeated. i promise to refrain from anything of the sort in the future, and i shall expect you to do the same." "well, i won't promise, but i'll try," drawled stacy. "if i promised, honest injun, i'd have to keep my promise. you know i don't like to be roped with a promise. it's like being tied to a tree. a fellow can't let himself out when he wants to." "you'll have plenty of opportunity to let yourself out, i am thinking. something do--" began tad. "ah--ah!" warned chunky. "i guess i nearly forgot myself, didn't i?" grinned butler. "yes, you'll have to cut it--" "whoa, chunky!" shouted ned. "there you go again." "hopeless! hopeless!" groaned professor zepplin. "but that's right. correct one another and you will soon overcome the habit. we are forced to live a semi-barbarous life, but that is no reason why we should forget either our manners or our english." "we shouldn't were it not for stacy brown," declared rector. "that's right. lay everything to me. i'm tough. i can stand it. but i'm the prophet of this outfit; i'm a necessary encumbrance." "mount!" commanded tad. "billy, did you bring that bundle of dry sticks for kindling the fire?" "nassir, yassir." "then, forward march!" "giddap, you old bundle of bones," jeered chunky, giving his pony a smart unexpected slap. the pony kicked and squealed, giving stacy a lively tussle for a few moments. "why do you stir him up so?" rebuked tad. "that isn't horsemanship. you act like a beginner." "he always is that way in the morning. it's his way of showing his pleasure at having me on his back. whoa, there, you cayuse!" shouted the fat boy. stacy lost part of his pack, necessitating a halt while he got down to repack and take a fresh hitch. finally having arranged it to his satisfaction the fat boy mounted. his companions had waited with long-suffering patience, and there were sighs of relief when stacy was once more ready. the party moved off at a leisurely walk, for the ground was rough and the trail not easy to follow. a close watch was kept ahead as far as they could see, and on all sides as well. but nothing of a disturbing nature occurred until near noon, when stacy, having ridden off to one side, scared a doe, which fled through the brush making a great crashing, nearly frightening the fat boy out of his wits. tad and the professor rushed to stacy's assistance. their disgust was great when they discovered the cause of the uproar. it was then decided that chunky must keep close to the party and try to behave himself. after a brief rest following the noon meal they once more mounted their ponies and set out. they had been on their way less than an hour when, riding out into an open space, they halted rather suddenly. as they entered the open space two horsemen rode in on the opposite side. the men carried rifles across their saddles, and came directly toward the pony rider boys' outfit. "there he is!" exclaimed tad. "who--who--who?" demanded stacy. "the black cat," answered rector under his breath. professor zepplin recognized one of the men instantly. the professor's lips closed firmly. one of the horsemen was the man who had claimed to be an officer when visiting their camp and ordering them to leave the ridge. "well, i see you fellows are still here," he said mockingly as he rode up to the outfit. "your eyes do not deceive you, sir," answered the professor coldly. "where do you fellows reckon you are going?" "in the first place, we are not fellows," resented tad, his face flushing. "in the second, we do not consider it any of your affair where we are going." "the young gentleman is right," added the professor. "you have no right to interfere with us. what do you want?" "i want you to turn your nags about right smart and head in the other direction. this is a preserve, and--" "i deny it!" snapped professor zepplin. "it is not a preserve and what is more i don't believe you are an officer. will you stand aside and permit us to go our way?" "i will not." "what do you propose to do?" "i reckon i'll wait here till i see you headed t'other way." "then you will wait a long time," exclaimed butler. "we are not going to turn about. we are going straight ahead, and we are going to keep on going until we are ready to head the other way, and--" "i reckon you won't do nothing of the sort." the mountaineer nodded to his companion, who started to ride around to one side of the outfit. tad saw the purpose of the movement at once. they proposed to make a flanking movement where they would have more advantage so far as position was concerned. "if you please, stay where you are!" commanded tad sharply. "what--what! you reckon to give me orders?" demanded the man furiously. "i'm telling you two to stay where you are if you know what's good for you. we have had about enough of your nonsense. professor, are we going to stand for any more of this foolishness?" demanded tad heatedly. "no, not much, tad. but be patient for a moment. i want to talk with this man further. do i still understand you to persist that we are on a government preserve?" he asked, turning to the mountaineer. "i reckon i've told you that before and i'll tell it to you again." "say it as many times as you choose, sir, if it pleases you," answered professor zepplin sarcastically. "we heard you the first time. it's getting to be an old story now." "well?" "i deny that this is a preserve. i further state that in my opinion you are a scoundrel. if you are not you will resent the accusation, and i am ready to meet any such resentment," added the plucky professor, permitting one hand to drop lightly to his pistol holster. the movement was not lost on the mountaineer. nor was the fellow to be deterred from carrying out his purpose. he shifted his rifle into a more convenient position. "it's the black cat," muttered the fat boy. "and we'll all be lame ducks in a minute." "keep steady, lads," warned the professor in a low tone. tad nodded, taking in his fellows in the same nod as indicating that they were to take no action until ordered to do so. "professor, i'm going on," announced butler. "we may stand here all day arguing at the present rate." with that tad clucked to his pony and started, picking his way through the growth in the open space. "you stop where you are!" commanded the mountaineer. "you stop me if you dare," retorted the pony rider boy. "come along, professor." instead the professor sat grimly in his saddle, eyeing the mountaineer sternly. the latter half raised his rifle, bringing the muzzle to bear on the advancing tad. "oh, fudge! put that gun back in your boot!" scoffed butler. "you know you don't dare to use it. you know very well that you would get the worst of it if you dared to pull the trigger." "are you going back?" roared the mountaineer. "no, i'm going forward," answered tad, putting spur to his pony and starting at a jog trot. he was headed directly towards the mountaineer, and the latter's pony took a step aside in order to prevent a collision. the muzzle of the mountaineer's rifle almost grazed butler's sleeve as he trotted past the man who had threatened to shoot him. "come on, fellows. are you going to camp there in your saddles?" for answer the professor and the three lads started to follow their companion. it was at this juncture that the mountaineer's companion took a hand in the affair and changed the situation instantly into a much more serious one. up to this time tad's sheer grit had overcome the desperate purpose of the alleged officer. the intervention of the other man had put a new complexion on the affair. chapter xiv the professor takes a hand "make 'em dance!" shouted the second man. two revolvers banged. tad's pony leaped up into the air, for the two shots had been fired right under the pony's hind feet. ere the lad could subdue the little animal two more shots had landed under the fetlocks of the spirited animal. "stop that!" thundered the professor. "don't be alarmed, professor. they are only bluffing," called tad. "i'll take care of these gentlemen when i get my pony subdued." bang, bang! two bullets fanned the feet of professor zepplin's mount. this was more than the old fighter could endure. he whipped out his own revolver and began peppering the ground under the feet of the mountaineers' horses. it was the turn of the assailants' animals to cut up now. and they did, threatening to unhorse their riders. at the moment when the professor let go his bullets the supposed officer was about to fire another shot under professor zepplin's mount. but the pony leaping, spoiled the mountaineer's aim. one of his shots bored a hole through the crown of the professor's hat. a bullet from the professor's revolver fanned the cheek of the mountaineer. "hold your fire!" shouted tad to his companions. the mountaineer, not waiting to reload, began tugging at his other weapon. tad drove his pony straight at the man who, by this time, was leveling the pistol at professor zepplin. the pony rider boy hit the weapon with his quirt. the bullet went high above the head of its intended victim. the second swing of the quirt was even more of a surprise to the mountaineer than had been the first. the quirt landed on the fellow's cheek with such force as to lay it open and draw blood. before the man could recover, tad butler had fastened upon his collar, and the fellow was jerked from his saddle and landed heavily on the hard ground. "cover the other man!" shouted tad. four guns were pointed at the other mountaineer, who was so dazed over the sudden and unexpected turn of affairs that he seemed to have lost power of action of any sort. in the meantime butler had quickly disarmed the man whom he had so cleverly unhorsed, taking possession of his weapons and throwing them away. the lad stepped quickly to the still mounted rider and walking right up beside him stretched up a hand. "give me that pistol!" commanded the lad. the horseman hesitated. the boys held their breath. they expected to see tad butler shot where he stood. nothing of the sort occurred. the man glanced quickly at the menacing weapons of the pony rider boys, down into the resolute, fearless face of tad butler, then shoved the weapon, muzzle first, into butler's face. tad didn't even wink. "the other end to, if you please," he warned. with a grunt the horseman turned the gun about and threw it rather than handed it to the victor. "now jerk that rifle out of your boot and drop it on the other side of your horse. be quick. there will be some real shooting here if you dilly-dally any longer. we've stood all we're going to take from you ruffians." the pony rider boys gave a yell as the mountaineer's weapon dropped to the ground. by this time the supposed officer had scrambled to his feet. he was white with rage. he started for the weapons that tad had taken from him. "steady, my friend!" warned the professor. "this weapon in my hand might--might, you understand--go off unexpectedly. right about face and get into your saddle. mount!" "i'll have the law on you!" roared the defeated mountaineer. "then why don't you? you say you are the law. take us!" "get out of here, both of you, and don't you dare show your faces again," commanded butler. "and before you leave," added the professor, "let me say that at the first opportunity i'll have the sheriff on your trail. now go!" with the howls of the delighted pony rider boys ringing in their ears the two mountaineers rode away as fast as they could drive their ponies. "now where's your black cat?" demanded tad with a grin. "oh, he's chasing a two-legged rat through the chaparral," answered the fat boy carelessly. professor zepplin wiped the perspiration from his forehead with a savage swish of the handkerchief. "the scoundrels!" he exclaimed, making a strong effort to control himself. "the scoundrels!" "i agree with you, professor," nodded tad. "it's my opinion that we had better get out of this country," declared walter perkins. "we shall not. i am going on now, even if they bring in a regiment to put us out!" fairly shouted professor zepplin. "hurrah for the professor! three cheers for the professor!" cried ned. the boys gave three ringing cheers and a tiger. "that will do, boys. we will be on our way now," said the professor, having regained his composure. "are you going to leave the weapons of those men here, tad?" asked walter. "yes, but i'm going to fix them so they won't be of much use to their owners," replied tad. the lad, after drawing the charges from the guns, hammered them over a rock until the barrels of the rifles were bent and twisted and the butts broken, rendering the weapons utterly useless. he then took apart the revolvers and after damaging the parts so that the pistols could not be used heaped the remains of the mountaineers' arsenal on the rock over which he had broken them. "i guess those guns won't do any damage," grinned the pony rider boy. "i'm ready for the hike now, fellows." the hike began at once. even chops, who had fled at the first indication of trouble, now came out from his hiding place and, mounting his horse, joined the procession. "i reckon we've given those fellows a scare that will last them for a time," announced tad, after they had traveled a short distance from the scene of the conflict. "but it was only a near fight after all. they hoped to frighten us. i don't believe they intended to do us harm." "yes, and i am surprised at you, professor," reproved stacy. "why?" "i never knew you were such a savage. why, if we hadn't restrained you, you would have hurt somebody. don't ever let me hear you advising me to control my temper." the professor interrupted with an exclamation of disgust. "i wish i knew what is in the wind," reflected tad. "however, i don't suppose we shall know the motive for this attack. if ever we do you will see that it is some piece of rascality." "i am of the same opinion," agreed professor zepplin. "i wish we knew where to find a sheriff or a constable, or whatever they may call them in this region." "why don't you get a telephone?" suggested chunky. the boys jeered. "yes, why don't we?" demanded ned. "just the very thing! professor, if you don't mind i'll run over and call up the sheriff and--" "tell him you've discovered the black cat," finished stacy. "br-r-r!" said the fat boy, chancing to catch the eye of billy veal. billy exhibited signs of a panic. "let the guide alone," commanded the professor. "we have had quite enough trouble resulting from your pranks." "that's right, lay it all to me. i can stand it. that's what you have me along for--to take the blame for everything else that the rest of you don't want to stand for." "oh, pooh! can't you take a joke?" laughed ned, riding up and slapping stacy on the back. "you know we are only taking advantage of your giving us a chance to have fun with you. this outfit would be tame as fishing in a washtub if it weren't for you, stacy chunky brown." chunky regarded rector with round eyes. "do you mean that, ned rector?" "of course i do." "boo-hoo!" mocked the fat boy. "that's the first kind wor-r-d i've had since i left my happy home in chillicothe. give me your kind old hand, ned rector. may i never hold a dirtier one!" "there! see! you won't let me be good to you. remember, i tried to make amends for a lot of things i've said to and about you, but you wouldn't let me. this is the last time i try to make up. do your worst." "i will," agreed chunky solemnly. "you mean you have," called tad. "no, i mean i will." "all right, only for goodness' sake don't try it on me." "there are indications of gold here!" the professor's voice was calm and analytical. "what?" shouted the boys. professor zepplin was leaning from his saddle, keenly scrutinizing the rocks at the side of the trail. "i said, there are indications of gold in the quartz rock here--" "gold! gold! lead me to it," shouted stacy. "i need some right now. show it to me!" "kindly curb your emotions, stacy," rebuked the professor, eyeing the fat boy sternly. "i need that gold," insisted master brown, unabashed. "please hand it to him, professor," urged tad. "then stacy will be able to pay what he owes me." "always that reminder of debt!" snorted chunky indignantly. "what does a debt amount to between friends?" "that isn't a very honest view to take, stacy," teased butler, "honest?" sputtered chunky. "tad butler, i'm honest, and you know it! i owe you a few dimes, and i'd sooner owe them to you all my life than cheat you out of the money." but tad wasn't listening. he was off his pony now, bending near the professor, and listening intently to what that scientific gentleman had to say of the gold signs. "as to whether there is gold enough here to amount to what miners call 'pay dirt,'" professor zepplin continued, "i don't care to say just yet. gold is plentiful in these mountains, yet there is rarely enough of it found in one place to pay for the trouble of getting it." "show me the gold," pleaded chunky. "here is color," replied the professor, resting a fingertip on a dull yellowish streak. "i don't see the gold," said stacy, after a hard stare. "you're not used to the sight," jibed tad. "now, walter's father is a banker, and i'll wager walter has seen a lot of it at the bank." "only a few bushels of it at a time," said walter dryly. "of course a bushel of gold is a tame sight." "that's enough! that's enough! i can't think in such large amounts. pints are about as far as i can go when it comes to gold," retorted stacy. "pennies, you mean," suggested ned mischievously. chunky gave him a withering glance, then turned his attention to what the professor was saying. the professor was chipping away at the rock with his little geological hammer, carefully selecting samples of the ore, which he tucked in his coat pocket for future examination. "guide, do you think you would be able to lead us to this spot again were we desirous of returning here?" "nassir, yassir." "he means that he could," interpreted butler. "if he couldn't i could. i can follow any trail that i have been over. is it so interesting as all that, professor?" "mind you, i am not saying that it is. after i have made a test i shall be in better position to answer that question. guide, has anyone, to your knowledge, discovered gold hereabouts?" "yassir; ah doan know. ah nebbah found no gold heah--nebbah found no gold nowhere. nassir." the boys shouted. "he is just like chunky. pennies are his gait," scoffed ned. "i thought we'd agreed to cut--to stop using slang," reminded stacy. "ned, stacy is right. he has properly rebuked you this time," laughed tad. "yes, sir. he did catch me napping, didn't he?" "there he goes again, professor," shouted chunky. "well, i am not so sure. one would, indeed, have to draw the line very finely to class 'catch me napping' as a slang expression. as a matter of fact, it may be so, but i should hardly go so far as to characterize it as such," differed professor zepplin. ned winked at stacy, but the fat boy, holding his chin high, pretended not to see the wink. so interested was the professor in his find that he decided to make camp for the night in that vicinity. tad and walter were sent out to choose a suitable site for pitching the tents. they found an ideal spot by a trickling stream of water that oozed from a crevice in the rocks, falling into a natural rocky bowl, almost if the bowl had been hewn to hold the sparkling fluid. of course tad saw at once that the water had worn away the rock, thus forming the bowl. many years had been required to wear away the stone, all of which set tad butler to thinking over the wonders of time as well as those of nature. they pitched their camp there that night. but the night was not destined to pass without some further excitement. excitement had come to be almost a necessary part of the daily routine of the pony rider boys, and they counted that day a dull one that held no thrills. chapter xv the ghost of the tulip glade a large number of varieties of the trees of the blue ridge region were to be seen from their camping ground of that night. there were yellow and gray birch, hickory, the bull bay, and best of all, the giant tulip tree, one of the largest and most beautiful of the trees in all the great ridge country. it was in a lane of tulip trees that the camp of the pony rider boys was pitched. the sky being overcast, tad had put up a tent for the guide while chops was engaged in setting the camp to rights in other directions. this tent was located next to the one occupied by stacy and walter perkins. stacy regarded the arrangements with a satisfied grin, which tad shrewdly interpreted. "look here, chunky, don't you try to play tricks on that poor guide tonight," warned butler. "poor fellah!" mocked stacy, "what am i going to do if i dream of blind horses and black cats?" "get up and stick your head in the spring. that will wake you up." "i guess i'd be awake before i got to the spring. that isn't a joke, tad. that's just an imitation of a joke." "don't you dare stick your head in the spring," admonished ned. "i have to drink that water." "so do the horses," retorted stacy. "you haven't heard them find any fault, have you?" "that's a fact, i haven't," admitted rector sarcastically. "perhaps that is because the horses hadn't thought of it in that light," suggested walter. "great head, great head," cried stacy. "but confidentially, tad." "yes?" "we've missed some more biscuit," whispered the fat boy. "how many?" "twenty since breakfast." "didn't we eat them for dinner?" "not a bisc." "hm-m! you are quite sure you didn't help yourself?" questioned tad quizzically. "help myself? help myself?" demanded chunky indignantly. "do i look as if i had twenty biscuit inside of me?" "i can't answer that question," laughed tad. "but to return to what i was saying, are you going to behave yourself tonight?" "about what?" "about frightening chops," insisted tad. "i can't promise anything about my dreams. if i dream i can't help that, can i?" demanded the fat boy. "i'll tell you how to help it," spoke up rector. "go to bed on an empty stomach. if you will do that, i promise you that you won't dream a single dream." "i just love to dream," murmured stacy, twiddling his thumbs and gazing soulfully up to the tops of the great tulip trees. the professor interrupted at this juncture to say that he thought they should post a guard that night lest the mountaineers come back. tad said he had a plan that he thought would answer fully as well. his plan, as explained to his companions, was to splice their ropes and draw them around trees close to the camp, placing the rope about a foot above the ground. "hm-m-m-m!" reflected the professor. "in the darkness the rope would not be discovered, and one trying to get into camp would surely trip over it," further explained butler. "this, you understand, would make a racket that would awaken the camp." "excellent! excellent!" approved the professor, rubbing his palms together enthusiastically. "i shouldn't be at all surprised to hear that one day you had invented something really worth while." "try your skill on inventing an appetite regulator," suggested ned. "you could try it on chunky." "no you don't," retorted stacy indignantly. "you don't try experiments on my food-consuming machinery. it works quite well enough as it is, though i shouldn't mind if it had a little greater capacity." no one laughed, though a pained expression might have been observed on the faces of three pony rider boys. "if you had thought of the rope plan earlier, it might have saved some of us from sleepless nights," declared the professor. "what a surprise it would be to an intruder were he literally to fall into our camp headfirst." "haw, haw, haw!" roared chunky. "wha--what's the matter? wasn't it time to laugh?" he demanded, observing the eyes of the professor fixed reprovingly upon him. "yes. a most excellent plan," continued the professor, ignoring stacy's flippant remark. "i'll fix it up right away," said tad. "pass over your ropes, fellows. if we rope anyone tonight it will be by his feet rather than over his head." the ropes were quickly spliced and put in place, forming an almost invisible barrier about the camp. after tad had finished his task, stacy fell over the rope to test it, bringing down upon him a torrent of rebuke, for he had nearly pulled the barrier down. "don't you dare do that again," warned tad. "i don't propose to have my work spoiled just to please your curiosity." "pshaw! wasn't the rope put there to fall over?" demanded the fat boy. "yes. of course, but--" "then, what are you growling about?" "oh, nothing," answered butler hopelessly. the professor shook his head as if argument were a sheer waste of time. it was quite late when the last of the boys turned in that night, for there was much to discuss, much to wonder at in the strange actions of the mountaineer who had ordered them from the ridge. during the talk chunky went to sleep by the fire. he was awakened suddenly when ned, who had gone to the spring for a cup of water, poured some of the almost ice-cold water into the fat boy's open shirt front at the neck. chunky leaped up, uttering a howl, and bowling over the professor who sat close beside him. for a few moments there was no end of excitement, which finally came to a finish when stacy started off for his bunk in high dudgeon. tad sat regarding the fat boy with twinkling eyes. tad had something in mind. mischief was brewing when that look appeared in his eyes. soon after that he turned in, followed immediately by the other members of the party. as the hours drew on, the campfire died down to a glowing heap of embers and coals, now and then starting into a sputter and a crackle as some charred piece of wood blazed up and burned briskly for a minute or two. inside a tent one boy lay with half closed eyes gazing thoughtfully at the fire. after a time he got up cautiously and peered out. being satisfied that all were asleep, he stole into the adjoining tent with a rope in his hand. soon afterwards he slipped out and entered another tent, after which he went back to his own tent. once more the camp settled down to silence. the fire burned lower and lower until the camp was almost in darkness. suddenly a figure all in white appeared at the entrance to the tent occupied by stacy brown. "'ware the black cat!" it said in a deep sepulchral voice. "'ware, 'ware the--" "wha-wha-wha-wha-what!" gasped stacy brown, sitting up suddenly, gazing wide-eyed at the apparition at the tent entrance. "'ware the black cat!" just then there was a flash and a report. a gun was fired. it seemed as if the flash and the report had come right out of the top of the head of the ghostly figure. with a wild yell of terror stacy brown leaped from his bunk. almost as soon as he rose, his feet were jerked violently from under him and he flattened out on the ground. "i'm shot, i'm shot!" he yelled, starting from the door. at about the same instant chops, who had sprung up at the first yell of alarm, also measured his length on the ground. his feet had gone out from under him much after the same manner as had chunky's. chops also plunged for the door, howling with terror. then a strange thing occurred. both the tent occupied by stacy brown and that used by the guide began performing strange antics. all at once both tents collapsed. walter perkins was under one of them. walter's howls were now added to the general din. chunky had managed to stagger outside. so had chops; but the tents, now down, kept bobbing as if imbued with life. "ghost! ghost!" yelled chunky. "yi-i-i-i--yah!" screamed the frightened guide. chops's yell was cut short by another fall. at the same instant stacy brown again went down. by this time the professor had charged upon the scene. so had ned rector. walter perkins and tad butler were crawling out from under their collapsed tent, walter frightened, tad laughing. professor zepplin, grasping his revolver, was glaring about for something at which to shoot. he saw only stacy brown and the guide performing strange antics. the professor threw some dry wood on the coals, then roared out a demand to know what had happened. "i'm shot again! i'm shot," bellowed the fat boy, making a spring for the professor's protection. stacy fell short by several feet, landing flat on his face on the ground. billy veal, who had started to run in an opposite direction, went down also. the camp was now in a great uproar. everybody was shouting and gesticulating. the professor excitedly stirred the fire, then danced from one side of the camp to the other. stacy and chops stumbled about, falling on their faces almost as fast as they could get up. the professor in his excitement backed over the rope that tad had strung about the camp earlier in the evening. he landed in a thorn bush, which, in view of the fact that he was clad only in his pajamas, did considerable execution to the professor's skin. nothing like this had ever occurred to interrupt a night's rest for the pony rider boys. "stop it!" roared the professor, when, after extricating himself from the thorn bush, he succeeded in grasping chunky by one shoulder. stacy was jerked from the grasp of the amazed professor as if he were at one end of a huge rubber band that had sprung back. how the fat boy did yell! almost at the beginning of the trouble a figure had darted from the camp and plunged over the guard rope. then, hastily scrambling to its feet, darted away into the shadows. the fire had now blazed up so that the camp showed plainly. chunky and the guide kept falling. the way their feet went out from under them caused the others to roar with laughter though they did not understand the cause at all. suddenly, ned rector let out a yell. "look! oh, look!" he howled. chapter xvi a mysterious night prowler professor zepplin, realizing that ned rector had made a discovery, began peering from one to the other of the pair who were indulging in such strange antics. "stop that nonsense, i say!" he commanded. "i--i can't," yelled stacy. "guide, come here! i demand that you cease this foolishness." "nassir, yassir." chops was willing to stop. he was willing to obey orders, and he did so as far as possible. the guide had started to walk toward the professor when suddenly he was jerked prone on his face. professor zepplin had observed something in the light of the campfire, however. he strode forward and threw himself upon the fallen chops, to the great delight of the pony rider boys. "hm-m-m! i see," observed the professor. "a rope tied to your ankle, eh?" "yassir, yassir." "stacy, are you tied by the ankle also?" demanded the professor. "yes, i'm hobbled for keeps," answered the fat boy. "i'd like to know who played this measly trick on me. am i tied to chops, professor?" "it would appear that you are. remove the rope. whose rope is that?" tad examined the line with which the two had been tied, with a grave face. "it is your rope, professor. surely, you didn't do anything like this?" questioned tad. the boys gazed at professor zepplin in well-feigned amazement. "oh, professor!" groaned ned. "is it possible that you are getting frisky? it's this mountain air. i am beginning to feel like a yearling colt myself." the professor looked his disgust. "you are mistaken, young man," he interrupted. "i know no more about it than do--" "than do i," finished ned. "that was what i was about to say, but i hardly think that would be correct. now if you gentlemen will be good enough to see what has happened to those tents, and put them back, we may be able to get a wink or so of sleep before morning." "surely, you don't think i would do a trick like that, professor?" demanded ned indignantly. "i am not saying. i am making no accusations, neither am i declaring any particular individual's innocence," was the stiff retort. "why don't you blame me, while you are about it?" grumbled stacy. "i can stand most anything now. i've been chased out of bed by a ghost, shot at by a spook, hauled out of bed by the ankles by a band of gnomes, and--" "well, what else?" urged tad. "thrown down by a bunch of veal." "awful, awful!" groaned ned. "positively the most sickening pun i ever heard. chops, did you see any spooks?" "nassir, yassir." "where?" "right dar, sah." "in front of your tent?" "nassir, yassir." "now, chops, what did this particular spook look like?" interjected the professor. "look awful, sah!" already tad butler was busy replacing the overturned tents. walter assisted in the operation. "say, tad, do you know who did this thing?" he inquired. "i could make an excellent guess," grinned butler. "do you know, i believe it was either the professor or ned." "better tell the professor what you think," suggested tad. "oh, i shouldn't dare to do that," protested walter. "we usually say what we think in this outfit. oh, professor!" "what is it, tad?" "did you know we had a visitor in this camp tonight?" "from the evidences at hand i should say we had had several of them." "i don't mean it in that way. i am not saying that the disturbance here tonight was caused by any outside agency. chunky is sure he saw a ghost. maybe he did. chops knows he saw a spook and i, too, saw something that disturbed me a little." "what do you mean?" demanded the professor, fixing a keen gaze on the face of tad butler. "there was a strange man in this camp tonight." "was--was he the ghost-man?" stammered chunky. "he may have been, though i doubt it." "was he the fellow who tied one end of the rope to my ankles and the other end to chops's ankles so that we would slide on our noses and skate on our wishbones when we tried to walk?" "no, i think not." "who did it, then?" "why, i thought you had decided that the ghost did it?" laughed tad. chunky regarded his companion solemnly. "tad butler, you're a fraud," whispered the fat boy. "what i won't do to you will be good and plenty. you're the ghost. you're the one who tied me to chops. you're the one who shot off the gun. you're the one who tore down the house that chops built. you're the--" "oh, that's plenty," answered tad with a laugh. "do you admit it?" "of course i don't." "do you deny it, then?" insisted the fat boy. "in the language of the guide, 'yassir, nassir.'" "i'm wise to you," declared stacy, after regarding his companion searchingly. "look out!" warned tad. "you are talking slang again." "i don't care. it takes strong language to fit this case." "now please explain your remark of a few moments ago, tad," requested professor zepplin. "i don't know that i can explain it," returned tad. "you saw something?" "yes, sir, i did." "what did you see?" "as i came out i saw a man dart out of the camp. he fell over the rope just to the right of the tree there at your back. perhaps we may be able to find his trail." taking a brand from the fire, tad stepped over to the spot he had indicated and holding the torch down near the ground nodded to his companions who had pressed up close to the rope. "the bushes certainly are broken down there," declared ned. "maybe that's where the professor tried to turn a somersault," suggested stacy. "what were you trying to do, professor?" chuckled ned. "we will leave that for future discussion," answered professor zepplin dryly. "someone surely has been floundering about here, that is a fact." "this is where i saw him fall," affirmed tad. "tad, what sort of person was he? how did he look?" questioned the professor. "i was unable to see. it was too dark here." "maybe it was the ghost," suggested stacy. "ghosts do not leave such a broad trail as this," answered tad. "one of them did tonight," answered the fat boy suggestively, whereat tad butler grinned. "i don't like this at all," mused the professor. "we must keep watch every night hereafter. have you any suspicion that the mysterious visitor played the trick on us?" "no, sir, he did not," replied tad soberly. the professor eyed tad reflectively, then asked no more questions along this line. tad, taking a fresh brand, followed the trail away from the camp, the others of the party bringing up the rear. tad was recognized as the best trailer among them, so the work of following this trail was left wholly to him. they had proceeded away from the camp in a southwesterly direction for a full quarter of a mile when tad halted. swinging his torch from one side to the other he finally fixed upon a certain spot. looking up at his companions he nodded. "here is the place," he declared enigmatically. "what place?" questioned chunky, crowding in. "the place where the visitor tethered his horse. and if you will look just to the left of ned rector, you will discover something else." the pony rider boys uttered exclamations of amazement. there a little to ned's left lay a battered sombrero. "somebody was here," breathed the professor. "yes!" cried tad. "i know who that somebody was, too," he shouted triumphantly, dropping down on his knees with face so close to the ground that chunky wanted to know if tad were going to eat grass. chapter xvii prospectors in the hills "no, i am not," answered tad, "but i am going to tell you who our late caller was. we have seen him before." "who--what?" cried the professor. "he was one of the two men who assaulted us yesterday." "are you sure, tad?" "yes, i'm pretty sure of it," answered butler, gazing at the ground reflectively. "but how do you know?" "one of the two ponies those men had, had a broken shoe on the off hind foot. the horse that was tethered here had a shoe that was broken, and the broken shoe was on the off hind foot also. as nearly as i can remember, the shoe was broken in exactly the same place that this one is. it seems to me like a pretty clear case against these fellows. what do you think, professor?" "indisputable evidence, i should say. you did not observe anything familiar about the man, you say?" "no, sir." "those rascals mean mischief. that is certain." "they can't do us any harm unless they try to take a pot shot at us when we aren't looking, which i hardly think they will do," ventured butler. "they aren't desperate enough. but i should like to know what the motive is underneath it all." "i can't help but think that in some way they are connected with griffin," asserted ned. "yes, that may be," agreed professor zepplin. "do you wish me to follow the trail, professor?" asked tad, glancing up. "no, i think not. it would be likely to prove a fruitless chase." "that is my opinion too." the party now slowly retraced its way to camp. in speculating about the greater mystery they appeared to have forgotten the recent ghostly disturbances in the camp, though it was pretty generally understood that the latter incidents were due to a prank of one of the boys. that one boy, as the reader already surmises, was tad butler. tad had evened his score with the fat boy for all the latter's pranks on him and the others, and stacy knew it. the fat boy was shrewd. he said no more about his fright, but tad observed that stacy frequently cast reproachful glances in his direction. tad remained on watch for the rest of the night. they made an early start on the following morning, and, as on the previous day's journeyings, they found rough going all the way, with great rocks towering high above them, cut here and there by frequent deep, gloomy canyons. about noon of this day as they were slowly riding through one of the rifts in the mountains, they pulled up sharply at a signal from tad. "what is it?" demanded the professor, realizing that butler had made a discovery. tad pointed ahead of them. the professor gazed in the direction indicated. "fog?" he asked. "i think not. it looks to me like smoke," answered the pony rider boy. "who, smoke griffin?" piped stacy in a loud voice. "no, just plain smoke. and if you please, don't speak so loudly," admonished tad. "hm-m-m. what would you suggest?" asked the professor. "i would suggest that we climb the side of the canyon," said chunky with emphasis. "on the contrary, we will go straight ahead," replied tad with a firm compression of the lips. "it may be our enemies who are waiting for us," suggested rector. "i hope it is," answered tad. "yes, so do i. i rather think i shall have something to say to those gentlemen when next i have an opportunity to speak with them," added professor zepplin grimly. tad touched his pony with the spur. the party moved on, no one speaking, each instinctively looking to his weapons, though they had little idea that they would have use for firearms. every face wore a serious expression, every boy was wondering what they should find at the source of the smoke. they came upon that source in a sharp bend of the canyon and brought up short. three men who had been sitting about a campfire cooking their dinner sprang up with hands on their revolvers, but which they did not draw from the holsters. tad and professor zepplin rode slowly forward, the men standing by the fire, gazing with suspicious eyes at the visitors. all three were strangers. none of the party of pony rider boys had ever seen the men before. "howdy!" greeted tad, swinging a hand in greeting. "good afternoon, gentlemen," said the professor. from a tent near the campfire a dog came out, barking furiously. "who are you?" demanded one, who acted as spokesman for the three men. "we are a party out for a trip, for pleasure as well as health," answered the professor. "known as the pony rider boys," added tad. "might we ask who you gentlemen are?" "my name's jim dunkan. that's sam ellison, and the other is tom royal. will you get off and have a snack with us?" "thank you. it is a pleasure to see a friendly face once more. we will accept your invitation if you will permit us to use our own supplies. perhaps you gentlemen have not had access to fresh supplies and need all you have," suggested the professor. "well, we are a little short, that's a fact, sir. introduce your party if you want to. if you don't, you don't have to," was the reply. "there is no reason why i should not. i am professor zepplin, in charge of the party. these young men are thaddeus butler, ned rector, walter perkins and stacy brown--" "otherwise known as the good thing of this outfit," added stacy solemnly. the mountaineers laughed at the fat boy's funny face. "glad to meet you, fellows," greeted the men, stepping forward and shaking hands cordially all round. "come far?" "we are all from missouri," answered tad laughingly. "then i reckon you'll have to be shown a few things," grinned dunkan. "we have been," answered stacy. the boys by this time had dismounted and were tethering their horses while the mountaineers looked on curiously. "you younkers 'pear mighty handy. guess you aren't tenderfeet," observed sam ellison. "not exactly, sir," answered butler. "we have been riding the mountains and plains for a few seasons." "do you gentlemen live in these parts?" asked the professor, seating himself by the fire. "no. we're up here prospecting." "ah! gold?" dunkan nodded briefly. "i discovered some indications of gold yesterday," announced the professor. the men were interested at once. they asked many questions which the professor answered freely. when they learned that he was a geologist, among his other accomplishments, the men thawed instantly. "maybe you wouldn't mind looking at some pay dirt for us?" questioned tom royal. "i should be glad to serve you in any way possible," replied the professor cordially. "have you struck anything yet?" "we don't know. we may have. of course we've found evidences, but whether it's real pay dirt or not we don't know." "yes, i came to the conclusion, after analyzing the rock i found, that gold could not be extracted from it in anything like paying quantities. are there many others in here on similar quests?" royal said no. "there are those here who, i reckon, have found some stuff, though," declared dunkan. "yes?" replied the professor, glancing at the speaker inquiringly. tad caught the significance of the remark and fixed his eyes on jim dunkan. "others, sir?" ventured tad. "chops, you get the dinner going at once," directed professor zepplin. "i think these gentlemen would like some bacon. we have an excellent blend of coffee, gentlemen. make a large pot, guide." "yassir," promised chops. "as i was saying," continued dunkan, "there are others here who appear to have struck it rich. that is, there's one, but i don't know how many more are behind him." "may i ask who the man is?" inquired the professor. "his name is jay stillman." the speaker frowned as he pronounced the name. "what sort of looking man is stillman?" asked tad. dunkan described the man, whereat tad and the professor exchanged significant looks. "do you know the critter?" demanded jim suspiciously. "we think we have seen him, sir," replied tad. "why?" "i reckon you aren't friends of his?" "far from it," declared the professor with emphasis. "if he is the man we think from your description, we should like an opportunity to turn him over to a sheriff." dunkan grinned broadly. "i reckon they're on the right side, fellows," he said, nodding to his companions. "what's he been doing to you?" "here is the dinner," answered the professor. "suppose we discuss that?" "right you are, pardner. say that coffee does smell good." "yes, i poured the water on it," stacy informed them. "you can stay here and pour water on our coffee all the time, if you want to," answered sam. "no, thank you. i am a lion hunter, not a coffee boy." "you get away with it in pretty good shape even if you're not a coffee boy," averred dunkan. "oh, there's a lot about stacy brown that you will learn before you have known him long," spoke up ned. "yes, i'm a mine of good things," admitted chunky as modestly as he could. "now about this man stillman?" suggested the professor. "yes, sir, we should like to know what his game is," said tad. "his game?" repeated jim. "yes, sir." "i didn't know he had any game in particular." "he tried to drive us back. he must have had a motive else he would not have done that," declared tad. "just pure meanness," answered dunkan. "he wants it all to himself. he doesn't want anybody else fooling around in the mountains here. he's taking up all the land he can get hold of, and i guess he reckons on getting a fortune out of it. why he had a man from the city up here the other day and the fellow told a man i know that there was gold enough in these hills to buy the earth." professor zepplin glared at the speaker. "very interesting, indeed. then you think he has no other motive in desiring to keep persons away from here?" "what other motive could he have?" "i am sure i do not know." "i will wager that there is another motive that you gentlemen do not know anything about," spoke up tad. "what makes you think that?" questioned ellison. "everything seems to point that way, and if he bothers us any more i shall make it my business to find out." the prospectors laughed good-naturedly. "you better let that job out. jay stillman isn't the man for boys to fool with," advised dunkan. professor zepplin bristled. "i guess you gentlemen do not know my young men." "i think i do," spoke up ellison. "they've got the look of the real stuff about them. can you shoot?" "well, some," admitted tad. "we can run, too," volunteered stacy. "especially when there's a ghost after you," sneered ned. "have you seen either of these men of late?" asked the professor. "sam saw stillman yesterday and told him to mosey out of this or we'd be finding out what he was doing around our diggings." "who is the other man who is with him?" "i don't know," answered dunkan. "why, that must have been joe batts," suggested ellison. "batts is about the worst ever. i wouldn't dare turn my back to him if he had any reason for wanting to get rid of me." "an excellent reputation, most excellent, you are giving these men," smiled the professor. "is he anything like his name?" piped chunky. "how's that?" "batty--like a bat, you know," explained stacy. professor zepplin admonished the fat boy with a stern glance, which chunky pretended not to see. "do they ever bother you here in your camp or at your work?" asked ned. "well, i reckon not," drawled dunkan. "in the daytime they are afraid of our guns. in the night the dog is looking after things here." "where do they live?" interrupted butler. "stillman has a shack near one of the smoky bald's gulches. he isn't there very much, i guess. i don't know where joe lives. i guess anywhere he can find a place soft enough to lie on," answered dunkan with a grin. "say, you folks better make camp here with us and kind of make this a headquarters, hadn't you?" "what do you say, boys?" questioned professor zepplin. "we might remain here until tomorrow," agreed tad. "mr. dunkan wants you to make some tests for him, he says." "all right, boys," agreed the professor. the lads sprang up and began opening their packs, and in a few moments their tents were being pitched, the miners watching them with interested gaze as the odd little tents went up. "well, doesn't that beat all?" wondered ellison. "i never saw anything quite like that outfit before. where'd you get them?" "mr. butler invented those tents," answered the professor proudly. "then mr. butler's all right," smiled the miner. chapter xviii the camp suffers a loss all the rest of the afternoon professor zepplin was absorbed in examining rocks, specimens of ore, and dirt. he was deep in consultation with dunkan and the others of the prospectors. "yes, there are strong indications here, but thus far i have found nothing that would pay," said the professor. "the sample you say you got from stillman gulch is the best of all. it is, i might say, most promising. is that where the other man claims to have found pay dirt?" "somewhere in that vicinity. we don't know the exact location." "are you trying to locate a vein of ore, too?" questioned the professor. "sure we are. it's anybody's gold. of course we don't follow him and spy on him. we aren't that kind of cattle. but we'll find it prospecting if we find it at all, and then you'll see music in these parts." "i understand there are gems in these mountains." "yes, they've been found. here's an amethyst i picked up a week ago." the professor, after examining the stone, became enthusiastic. he pronounced it an exceptionally fine specimen. "if, sir, you are able to pick up such stones as this on this ridge why do you waste your time in seeking for gold?" "that's just the trick, professor. we can't." "but surely they must be here. this one shows evidence of having been wrenched from its original resting place and hurled some distance." dunkan gazed at the professor reflectively. "by hickey, i believe you're right at that. it gives me a new idea. i'll go to that place and hunt until either i find something or i don't." "do so, by all means. those boys of mine will help you." "let them, but if they find anything it belongs to them. jim dunkan hasn't got any claim on anything in these hills unless he finds it for himself. we'll be getting back now." it was a jolly evening spent around the campfire of the prospectors. stories were told, chops was induced to sing a song, the boys related interesting stories of their experiences on their various journeys, then all hands turned in well satisfied with their day and their evening. the pony rider boys slept soundly. but late in the night there came an interruption--a rush of the prospectors' collie dog. the animal, tied to a tree, began to bark and strain at its leash. just before the men turned out to see what the trouble was, the collie broke its leash and dashed away into the bushes, barking furiously. they heard the animal snarling. a yelp followed, then a chorus of explosive barks. the dog's barking ceased suddenly. "i reckon he's chasing some animal," said dunkan. "it didn't sound like that to me," replied tad, still listening intently. "of course you know the dog better than do i. does he bark at every sound?" "pretty near," grinned sam. "yes, he usually wakes us up once a night, sometimes more," added tom royal. "reckon we might as well go back to bed." jim whistled for the dog. he kept whistling for several minutes, then turned back toward their tent disgustedly. "he's got on the trail of something and gone beyond sound," he muttered. "he'll be back here in the morning." "i hope so," muttered tad. "see here, you've got something in your mind, younker!" demanded dunkan. "nothing except that i don't believe your collie was chasing an animal. i know a dog's bark well enough to know when he's on the trail of an animal. that bark and growl wasn't like any animal-chasing growl i ever heard." "all right, sonny, we'll see who's right," smiled jim, turning to his tent. "night." "good-night," answered butler. "he will see whether i am right or not in the morning. i am going to find out something for myself in the morning, too. i don't believe those men are very good mountaineers, though they may be most excellent prospectors." tad went to sleep and slept soundly until break of day when he was up and about. dunkan's first inquiry upon getting up, was as to whether the collie had returned. the collie had not. the broken rope with which he had been tethered before breaking away still hung from the stake. "well, kid, i reckon you were right about the dog's not coming back," announced dunkan, his face troubled and anxious. "i didn't say he would not come back, did i? what i tried to tell you, was that he wasn't chasing an animal." "well, he was. if he hadn't been, he'd been back in this camp hours ago. he's got mixed up in his trail, but i reckon he'll be along when he gets ready. i'm not going to worry about the dog, though i'd rather lose anything i've got than to lose him." "you're wrong all around, mr. dunkan," asserted tad confidently. "you think so?" "i know so." "how d'ye know?" "because if you will look out yonder in the bushes you will find the trail of the man he was following," replied tad gravely. tad's calm announcement startled everyone in camp. even chops paused with frying pan held aloft to listen to the further words of the keen-eyed pony rider boy. "what's that you say?" demanded sam ellison. "your dog chased a man away from here last night." "how--how do you know?" stammered jim. "because i saw the trail this morning." "where?" "right there. it begins with the dog's tracks, which, after a little way, are mixed up with that of the man he was after." dunkan eyed tad keenly to see if the boy was joking. tad butler most certainly was not joking. he had never been more serious in his life. "show it to me," commanded dunkan. the prospector's voice was calm, but there was a menace in it. without a word tad led the way to the edge of the camp ground, where he pointed to the footprints of the dog, faintly discernible on the soft turf. tad kept right on until he had gone some ten rods from the camp, whereupon he halted and pointed again. "what do you make of that, mr. dunkan?" he asked. "man's tracks, as i'm alive," muttered the prospector, after a careful examination of the trail as indicated by tad. "yes, and the man had been standing here for some time. if you will look a little farther you will find that he started to walk away, then broke into a run. the dog was pressing him rather too closely for comfort. at this point the dog began running faster than before. i know that because from this point the collie left only the faintest footprints, showing that he was barely touching the ground with his feet." chapter xix butler makes a discovery "well, if that doesn't beat all!" marveled royal. "it certainly does," agreed ellison. "yes, but that isn't finding the dog," growled dunkan. "boys, we've got to find that collie, and what's more, we've got to find the man he was chasing. the fellow probably took the dog with him. he must have wanted a pup mighty bad to take those chances to get one." "do--do they hang dog thieves down in this country?" questioned stacy apprehensively. "we aren't saying what we'll do," observed dunkan. "you've got to find the dog first," nodded stacy. "you're right, young man. get your guns, fellows. we'll follow this trail right smart." "i do not think it will be of any use," tad informed them. "why won't it? don't you think we know how to run a trail?" "i haven't the least doubt of it," answered tad with a smile. "then what's the matter with you?" demanded dunkan almost savagely. "oh, there's nothing the matter with me. i am trying to help you, that's all." "shake, pard. i didn't mean to be edgewise with you. i'm mad plumb through over that dog business. you're the smartest youngster i've ever come up with and i'll take off my hat to you when i get it on again." "here, i'll lend you mine," offered stacy, reaching his own sombrero toward the prospector. "i shake my own bonnet, not the other fellow's," grinned jim. the others laughed at the fat boy's drollery. "why do you say there is no need to follow the trail, tad?" spoke up professor zepplin at this juncture. "for the good reason that there is no trail to follow," was tad's brief reply. the party did not understand what he meant by that, and dunkan asked him to explain. "i have run the trail out," announced butler. "some twenty rods from here the trail practically ends." "how can that be?" interjected sam. "it is all hard rocks there for some distance and not a tree, hardly a shrub. the fellow went straight up the rocks. i know this because he trampled down a berry vine when he climbed up the rocks. that is the end of the trail. he may have gone in any direction from that point. i followed out several leads, but they came to nothing. i am sure that i should be able to pick up the trail somewhere were i to spend enough time at it. i will try it after breakfast if you want me to. breakfast is getting cold. we'd better get back." "shake, pard," exclaimed dunkan, extending an impulsive hand. "you're the real thing. nothing make-believe about you. the way you've puzzled out this trail business beats me. i'm pretty fair at it myself, but i'm not even a pussy-willow shadow to you." "did you hear about the three-legged rat and our black cat?" bubbled stacy. "no, i didn't. it isn't rats and cats, but dogs, in which we're interested at the present minute. we'll go back for some chuck. in the meantime we'll chew over it," said dunkan. "over the chuck?" asked stacy. "i reckon," grinned the prospector. "and the dog, too." "i'm no chinaman," objected the fat boy. "very strange, very strange," declared the professor, glaring from one to another of them. "a friend of mine lost a valuable pomeranian in a somewhat similar manner a year ago and--" "i ate a whole one of those once," chuckled chunky. "you ate a whole pomeranian?" questioned tad. "yes, yes," bubbled the fat boy. "and i had a stomach-ache for a week afterwards." "professor, stacy says he ate a whole pomeranian once," jeered tad. "what, what's that?" bristled the professor. "i did," insisted chunky. "what, you ate a pomeranian dog?" cried the horrified walter perkins. "a dog?" shouted stacy. "yes, a pomeranian's a dog, you boob," replied tad, shaking with laughter. "a dog? oh, i thought you were talking about a cheese." prospectors and pony rider boys joined in a roar at the expense of the fat boy. professor zepplin's eyes twinkled, but his face was stern. he enjoyed the jokes of his boys fully as much as did they, and this whether the joke was at his expense or at the expense of another. "but what do you make of this disappearance of the collie, mr. dunkan?" asked the professor when they were well started with the breakfast. "i don't make anything out of it." "is it possible that the dog continued to follow the man?" "yes, it might be, but he'd caught the fellow before he got to the ledge that butler told us about. that dog is a streak of greased electricity when he gets headed for anything." "that's the way chunky goes to his meals," nodded rector. "i notice i'm usually about ten paces behind you," retorted the fat boy. "you men go on with your work after breakfast. i am going to fall to the trail, as the rocky mountain guides express it," announced tad. breakfast having been finished, the work of clearing away was left to the guide. tad asked ned to accompany him. ned was hardy and almost as expert on trail work as was butler himself, though with tad such work was more second nature than was the case with the other boy. "don't worry if we don't get back in time for luncheon," said tad. "we have some biscuit in our pockets, and if we don't get back before night, why we will just camp out." "you must return before night," ordered the professor. "i want you here when night comes." "we will do our best. we shall probably return before noon, but if we do not, remember that we are all right." "if you find that dog--well, never mind," said dunkan. "i'll promise to do something handsome for both of you." the boys with their ropes slung over their shoulders, their revolvers in the holsters, strode out of camp waving good-bye to their fellows. they were soon lost sight of. "fine boys," averred ellison. "great," agreed royal. "the best ever," finished dunkan. "what about me?" demanded chunky. "well, i reckon that any fellow who can eat a pomeranian and get off with nothing more serious than a stomach-ache is copper-lined and brass-riveted," answered dunkan. the men soon went about their prospecting work, professor zepplin accompanying jim dunkan, walter going out with the other two men, while chunky remained at camp with chops. the fat boy decided that he could have more fun teasing the guide and sleeping between times than he could in climbing over the rocks on foot. he could ride all day, but a walk of a mile made him weary. tad and ned, in the meantime, had started out on the trail of the dog and the man, which they had again picked up at the very edge of the camp. reaching the rocks where the trail had been lost the boys sat down to take a survey of the landscape. "i think," said butler, after a few moments of study, "that a person climbing up this way would naturally head for that cut yonder. how far is that from here?" "a half mile, i should say." "yes, that is my idea. the course to the cut would seem to be the easiest. naturally the fellow would have taken the easiest route, because he was in a hurry to get away." "but what became of the dog?" "can't you guess, ned?" "i might guess a good many things. but they might be a long way from the truth." "does this tell you anything?" asked butler, pointing to a discolored spot on the rock near where they were seated. "blood!" gasped ned. tad nodded. "he hurt the dog here. it is my opinion that he hid behind this boulder and when the dog leaped up to the slippery rocks, the man struck him with a club. it was very foxy." "gracious, but you have eyes and some other sense that i don't seem to know much about," declared rector admiringly. "it is just horse sense, that's all, ned. a fellow doesn't have to be of the steel-trap variety. all he has to do to find out things is to think a little and use his powers of observation." "but--but, where is the dog?" begged ned, still more perplexed now that tad had pointed out a real clew. "oh, the fellow carried him off so as to get him out of sight. if the dog had been left here dead, that, he knew, would anger the men so that they would get right out on the trail. if the dog were carried away they might think the animal had got lost or fallen off a cliff, or something of the sort." "more horse sense," answered rector with a grin. "yes, that's all it is. and now if you will come with me i'll wager that i show you the dog," added tad, scanning the landscape critically. "all right. i shan't be surprised at anything you show me or tell me after this. i am stricken dumb with amazement and wonder. oh, i am a thick one." "it's well you admit it, ned," answered butler laughingly. "do you admit your failings?" snapped rector. "always, when i am accused by my friends." "then i have nothing more to say." tad had scrambled to his feet. ned followed his lead, and together they began climbing the steep side of the mountain, bearing off to the right towards a gap in the ridge, rather than climbing straight towards the top. all the time butler was keeping a sharp lookout for trail marks, but he found nothing that would aid him in his quest. he was positive that the collie had been killed by the prowler whom he had scared away from the camp on the previous night. "who do you think it was, tad?" questioned the other boy after a long, hard climb. "if i were to guess i should say it was the same old trouble-maker, stillman, or batts, his assistant, or companion-in-crime, whichever you may wish to call it." "well, i must say those fellows are bold." "they probably have a good deal at stake," answered tad. "what do you mean by that?" "that there is crooked business of some kind going on up on this ridge. i don't suppose it is any of our affair, except possibly as it interferes with us and our rights." "we've a large-sized bone to pick with the man anyway." "we have," agreed tad. "here is a ledge that we can walk on. keep a sharp eye down in the gulch below and look out that you don't fall. shall i pass the rope around you?" "no. what do you think i am, a baby? i don't get dizzy so easily as all that." "you're not like mrs. snedeker--you know mrs. snedeker in chillicothe?" "yes." "she refused to go around the world with her husband because she said it made her dizzy and sick to travel in a circle." ned grunted. "if stacy had told that story i shouldn't have been surprised, but i am amazed at you, tad." "all right, we'll let it go at that. what do you see down there?" "nothing but air and the bottom." "then i have sharper eyes than you," chuckled tad. "back up a little. there. now look about six feet to the left of that rock with the twin peaks. see anything?" "not a thing." "where are you looking?" rector pointed a finger, tad glancing over it. "you are looking six feet to the right of the twin peaks. i said you should look about six feet to the left of the peaks." "oh!" "now what do you see?" "good gracious you don't mean--" tad nodded triumphantly. "it's the collie!" whispered ned in an awed voice. "i think so. we can't be sure until we climb down and see for sure whether it is or not." "well, if this doesn't beat anything i ever heard of," muttered ned. chapter xx a mysterious proceeding tad had already started back along the ledge which opened into the gulch just before they reached the gap mentioned in the preceding chapter. a short distance to the rear the rocks sloped down into the gulch with a gradual fall. it was down this rugged place that tad began to climb, followed closely by ned rector. [illustration: tad was followed closely by ned rector.] the boys were too busy with their climb to do much talking on the way down, and had they not been thoroughly seasoned they would have been obliged to stop for breath more than once, even if the way was down hill. "whew! that was some climb, wasn't it?" exclaimed rector when finally they reached the bottom. tad ran forward. some ten rods up the gulch he halted, pointing to a crushed heap on the ground. "there's the poor collie, ned." "the fiends! they threw him over, didn't they?" tad nodded, thoughtfully. the two boys found that the dog bore a severe wound on its head, where tad believed it had been struck with a heavy club or the butt of a gun. there was no way of determining this to a certainty. but tad pointed out something to his companion in support of his theory which again proved that the pony rider boy possessed a keen mind for reasoning out things. "you will remember that the dog was running south when he was struck on the rock where we found the blood?" ned agreed with a nod. "and that i said the man struck the dog from behind the rock on the left-hand side of the trail?" "yes." "if you will examine the collie's head you will see that the wound extends from the top down the left side of the head, indicating that the person who dispatched him was also on that side. doesn't that prove it?" rector gasped. "say, tad, i'll run in a minute if you don't quit. you give me the creeps up and down my back. you're spooky. i'm glad chunky isn't here. he'd have run long ago. what shall we do, leave the dog here?" "why, yes, i don't think it will be worth while to carry him back to camp," decided tad. "then we'll give the faithful old fellow a decent burial and heap some rocks over him so the animals don't get at him. if mr. dunkan wants him we can tell him where to find the collie." the boys, choosing a hollow in the ground for the burial, heaped dirt, stones and rubbish over the dead dog. having completed this, tad started for the long climb back. the climb was somewhat different from the downward journey. it was grilling work going up that mountainside, and there were black and blue marks on the bodies of both boys when they reached the top. ned's hands were skinned in spots and his temper had suffered proportionately. "never again!" he exclaimed with a resentful look at tad. "i might have known better than to follow you." "you ought to feel complimented that i asked you to accompany me." "ha, ha! as chunky would say. what an excellent opinion we have of ourselves, eh?" "you know better than that, ned rector. you know i'm not the least little bit conceited. i never could see any reason why a human being should feel that he was any better or any smarter than any other average person. take my word for it, the conceited fellow gets his bumps sooner or later." "like chunky, for instance?" suggested ned. "no, i don't mean that kind. chunky doesn't mean half of what he says. he likes to make conversation and make fun, but he's a good fellow and smarter than most people give him credit for being." "i know that. i'd eat my hat for the fat little rascal, but i've got to have my fun with him. now what?" "maybe some more climbing. use your eyes again. we are following a trail now." so far as either lad could observe there was no real trail to follow. it was rock, rock everywhere they went. all the time they were getting farther and farther away from the camp. after an hour of toil over the rocky trail they came out into a brush-covered plateau. tad now got to work in earnest. it was but a few moments later when he announced that he had found a trail, but whether this was the particular trail for which they were in search he did not know. it was a trail and he proposed to follow it out until either it led them to something definite or came to a blind ending. the trail proved to be more fruitful than the boys had hoped. half to three-quarters of a mile farther on they were startled by the report of a gun. "someone firing a shotgun," said tad. "yes, it does sound that way," answered ned. "we will head for it. funny thing to be using up here. these people ordinarily use rifles. where did you think the sound came from?" "over there." ned pointed off to the right. "i shouldn't be surprised if it were in the gulch we have just left." "farther to the west then." the boys started to hunt out the man with the gun. they moved along with extreme caution now, not wishing to receive a charge of buckshot, nor were they courting discovery, for other good and sufficient reasons. "there it goes again," exclaimed ned. all at once they caught sight of a man half way down the side of the gulch. a gun was standing against a tree near by, while the man was scraping the ground with a stick. "what is he doing?" whispered ned as the boys, crouching down, eyed him inquiringly. "i don't know." after a little the man, whom they now recognized as their old enemy, jay stillman, took up his gun, reloaded it, and then began walking about the place as if selecting a particular spot for further operations. to the amazement of the boys stillman thrust the muzzle of the gun down to within two feet of the ground, then fired the charge into the earth. a second barrel was fired in a similar manner. "for goodness' sake, what is he trying to do?" whispered ned. "i don't know, unless he has gone crazy," answered tad. "shooting charges into the ground is new business to me. i'll warrant he is up to some monkeyshine, though." "maybe he thinks he can hit a heathen on the other side of the world," suggested ned. "he's going to shoot again," tad announced. two loud bangs gave evidence that stillman had done it again. he continued these same tactics, covering quite an area of ground, his operations lasting until long after midday. all this time the two pony rider boys were creeping along at a safe distance behind the mountaineer, watching his every movement. finally, leaving his gun, he began working among the rocks. what he was doing the lads were unable to make out, and they were more puzzled over these peculiar actions than they ever had been in their lives. late in the afternoon stillman shouldered his double-barrelled gun and started off toward the southwest. the boys promptly secreted themselves, because it looked as though the man were going to pass near them. he did so, though all unconscious of their presence. "are you going down there to see what he has been doing?" whispered ned. "no, i'm going to follow him. we know where that place is. it can't get away, but he can." this being good reasoning rector had nothing more to say. stillman had swung off at a mountaineer's stride, a pace so rapid that he soon outdistanced the two lads, making it necessary for them to run to catch up with him. this running nearly proved their undoing. suddenly they came in sight of the man. he was standing on a rise of ground, apparently listening, but looking off to the left. the boys dropped instantly, lying flat on the ground until they saw stillman shoulder his gun and start on again. "he must have heard us," whispered tad. "we must be cautious. we know him to be a bad man and we know he is up to some crooked business. i wish i knew just what it is. probably he's going to his shack." "i see it!" exclaimed ned. "yes, there's the roof of a building and a chimney. i reckon we're getting near our friend's roosting place. this is fine. you see what a little patience does for one. now go carefully." making a wide detour the boys came up to one side of the building that they had discovered. stillman was nowhere in sight. it was reasonable to suppose that he had entered the building. the structure was built up of small logs, the cracks being chinked with what looked to be red mud, and a broad chimney extended some six feet above the low roof, built high to give the fire below more draft. all about the place was a dense growth of bushes, with occasional paths intersecting the plot. "i wish we could get a look inside that place," muttered tad. "not going to try it, are you?" "no, not now. not while he is in there. i wish he would go away." "no such luck," complained rector. almost ere the words were out of his mouth jay stillman stepped out from the cabin. this time he carried a rifle under his arm. he stood at the doorway of the cabin for some moments as if thinking. after a time he started down a well-beaten path that led him within a rod of where the two boys were in hiding. they scarcely breathed as he strode past them. tad was up soon after on the mountaineer's trail. the boys did not have far to go. stillman's horse was tethered in a glade a short distance from there. the man quickly saddled and bridled his mount; then, leaping into the saddle, he galloped away to the eastward. tad started on a run, to keep the man in sight as long as possible, and further to make sure that stillman really was going away. "he's gone. now for his cabin!" cried tad. "i do hope there's no one there. perhaps we may be able to discover something." turning toward the log cabin, still on a dog-trot, the boys headed towards more trouble and a most exciting experience in the cabin of the mountaineer. chapter xxi trapped in a mountain cabin as they neared the cabin they proceeded with more caution. they did not know if there were others in the building, though tad did not believe such to be the case. at the rear of the place bushes grew close to the side of the building, so the boys chose this way of approaching the cabin. "this is a pretty serious thing, intruding upon a man's home," whispered tad. "but i think we are justified in doing so." they had reached the building. tad placed an ear against the side, but not a sound could he catch from within. "i don't believe there is anyone at home," remarked the lad quietly. "i'm going to take a peep." creeping along one side of the cabin he reached a window and attempted to peer in. a sheet of brown wrapping paper had been secured over the window so as to shut off all view from the outside. but tad, not yet at the end of his resources, decided upon a bold move. first making sure that no one was about, the lad walked boldly around to the front, nodding to his companion to follow. tad rapped on the door. there was no reply. he knocked harder. under his heavy raps the door swung open a little way, butler at the same time stepping back. he thought someone had opened the door, but quickly saw that he had done that himself. the boy pushed the door wide open, gazed in through the opening, then stepped in. it was not an uncommon thing in the mountains for a traveler to enter another's cabin. both boys knew that. had they not done the same thing in the rockies, and had not mountaineers helped themselves to the camp of the pony rider boys on more than one occasion? nothing ever had been thought of it, but somehow tad butler felt some misgivings about his present undertaking. he stepped in, glancing about him inquiringly. there was little to distinguish stillman's home from other mountain cabins they had visited. the shotgun that they had seen the man use was hanging on the wall. the dishes from breakfast were still on the bare deal table, as was a lamp with a smoked chimney. chunks of rock were heaped in a corner. the fireplace was a huge affair. it was built of rough rocks, laid up almost like a staircase, extending half way across the end of the cabin. in one corner was a heap of logs sawed to length, together with a great pile of dry kindling wood. stillman was well prepared for wet or winter weather, though there were not enough blankets in sight to protect a man in very cold weather. a bed of boughs served for a sleeping place. tad stooped over and pried up a loose board in the floor. he found there, in a small hole that had been excavated, another heap of rocks similar to those found in the cabin itself. "it is my opinion that these are samples of ore," reflected the boy. "do you know, i believe it is some shrewd game along this line that stillman is playing." the boys examined the place for the better part of an hour, finally sitting down to discuss what they had discovered and trying to get at the real secret of their discoveries. all at once they realized that the day was drawing to a close. the sun had gone down some time since. twilight fell suddenly. they also realized that they were hungry and that it was high time they were starting back to camp, which they would not now be able to reach until long after dark. tad reasoned that they were a good three miles or more from the camp. the others surely would be worrying about them. "they'll have a fine time finding us if they start to look for us," jeered ned. "yes, i reckon they will," answered butler with a broad grin. "they never would look for us in this place. let's be off. first thing we know, we won't know--" tad paused sharply, bending his head in a listening attitude. all at once he sprang to the door, and opening it a crack peered out. he closed the door softly and bounded back, a worried look on his face. "what is it?" whispered ned. "someone is coming." "hurry! run for it, then!" urged ned. "too late. he is almost here." ned groaned. "the fireplace," cried tad in a low, tense voice. "climb up! there's plenty of room. get up as far as you can. this is a fine fix we have got into. be quiet and have your nerve with you. go on!" tad gave his companion a push towards the broad fireplace. rector made a leap for it, and peered up into the dark chimney. "go on, go on!" urged tad, giving rector another push. ned disappeared up the chimney, and tad squirmed in under the arch and was up, following his companion with the agility of a squirrel. butler had barely drawn his feet up when he heard the door of the cabin open and close with a slam. the intruder put his gun down with a bump plainly heard by both boys. a moment later a faint light was seen below them. the newcomer had lighted the lamp. the boys had been up the chimney but a few moments when they heard the man go to the door where, after listening briefly, he uttered a whistle. an answering whistle, sounding far away to the boys up there, came almost instantly. then a few minutes later a second man came tramping into the cabin. "you're late, joe," announced a voice that the lads recognized as belonging to jay stillman. "yes, i couldn't get away from beach." "that's joe batts," muttered tad. "a precious pair of rascals, as we shall find out if we are discovered." "is he going to bring the other man out soon?" "yes. he and beach will be along in the morning." "think beach is on the level?" "no, of course he isn't. but he doesn't dare play foxy with us. besides, it's money in his pocket to play square. he doesn't know where the plant is." "what's the matter with his having a plant of his own?" batts laughed. "i reckon he doesn't know enough about the game to try that," he answered with a harsh laugh. "he'd better not," growled stillman. "got everything fixed?" "yes. i planted a new patch of yellow daisies this afternoon," answered jay, whereat a series of chuckles drifted up the chimney, causing tad to wonder what the men meant by "yellow daisies." there seemed no explanation of the term. "i'm going to sneeze," whispered rector. "don't you dare," commanded tad in alarm. "i've breathed in enough soot to clog a smoke stack." "hold your nose." "seen anything of that pony rider outfit?" asked stillman. "they've connected with dunkan's crowd," replied joe batts. "they have? i tell you we made a mistake in letting them get in so close. they've got to be driven out. we have too much at stake. first, here is the claim we salted down today, then there is the other thing. between the two we are in to make a big fortune. i'm to meet bates the day after tomorrow and get our pay for the work we are doing up at the other place." "about that pony crowd, and the other bunch. we've got to get rid of them and right smart. they are too nosey," declared batts. "what are we going to do, shoot them down and get strung up for it? not for mine. we'll put them out of business in some other way. i would have done it last night, but--" "but what?" questioned batts. "i opened the way. i got that critter all right." "the dog?" "yes." "they'll raise a row about that," warned batts. "no they won't. they'll think he fell over. oh, i looked after that all right. there's only one thing to be done, get our money for the claim we salted, and the wad for the other work we are doing, and clear out." "what about hans?" "i ain't bothering about him. let him fight his own battles. we have played this game for several months now and have a tidy sum put away where it will be safe. first thing we know the government will get wise, and then it will be all up with us for the next twenty years if not worse." "got anything for hans tonight?" questioned batts. "yes. i'm going to take it over to him later. he doesn't have to send it out until midnight. tomorrow night smoky griffin won't be in until one o'clock with the stuff. it's coming in another way, but the critters won't get wise to it, even if they have doped out the other system, which there's evidence that they are on track of. those pony boys have got to be run out of these mountains before we do anything else, and they've got to go right away." "that's easy," declared batts confidently. stillman shoved back his chair, and, gathering a bundle of dry wood, placed it in the fireplace, first having stuffed an old newspaper in. tad groaned inwardly. he knew what was coming. stillman touched a match to the heap in the fireplace. a faint crackling sound was borne to the ears of the two pony rider boys, and a wave of heat rolled up to them. "oh, help! this settles it!" moaned ned rector. then came a cloud of white, suffocating smoke. ned let go a terrific sneeze. the sneeze jolted him loose, his feet slipped from the ledge, and he went sliding down on top of his companion, uttering a yell as he felt tad giving way beneath him. chapter xxii pony rider boys in the stew jay stillman, after starting the fire, had suspended a kettle from a crane, having first half filled the kettle with a stew that he proposed to warm over for their evening meal. fortunately for the two lads who were sliding down the chimney the stew had not yet become hot enough to do any damage to a boy's skin. on the other hand, the smoke in a dense, suffocating cloud was pouring up the chimney. as the yell in the chimney reached the ears of the two men sitting by the table they gazed at each other in amazement. quick-witted as they were, the true significance did not occur to them. pieces of stone, soot, the accumulation of years, were dropping into the fire. then came a solid body. tad butler hit the fire first. he smashed into it, carrying kettle and crane down with him. fire, burning brands and sparks belched out into the room as though an explosion had occurred in the big fireplace. tad with quick instinct was struggling to get out of the way of his falling companion, when ned rector landed on him full force. tad humped himself, and ned went sprawling out on the hearth. butler did not lose his presence of mind for a second. in fact tad had formed his plans, so far as it was possible to form them, before he reached the fire. uttering a yell, calculated to strike terror to one who heard it, tad rolled out on the hearth, his clothes ablaze and his hair almost singed off. the mountaineers still sat in their chairs, lower jaws hanging, eyes bulging. without waiting for the men to recover from their surprise, tad gave a couple of quick rolls. the rolls served to put out some of the fire in his clothes as well as to bring him nearer to the object towards which he was rolling. the boy's feet came up with great force, and the deal table standing between the two mountaineers rose up into the air, dishes, lamp and all. ned uttered a howl, a series of howls. blood-curdling howls they were, too. he had caught tad's purpose and was aiding it with all his might. the lamp, dishes and all went over with a crash. the two men in trying to get out of the way of the flying dishes and lamp both toppled over backward, landing on their backs on the floor. of course the lamp exploded with a dull "pouff"! "the door!" tad commanded sharply. "run low!" ned scrambled to all fours and made for the door dog-fashion. by this time stillman and batts had sprung to their feet and drawn their revolvers. "shoot! shoot!" yelled jay. "my gun's stuck," howled batts. "bang, bang, bang!" three shots were fired in quick succession from the pistol of jay stillman. two of them bored holes in the door casing just above ned rector's head. the third shot went out through the open door. tad was still in the room, but crawling toward the door with all speed. the light from the burning oil now flared up, revealing his presence. stillman let go two quick shots at the boy. one bullet grazed tad's head. he remembered afterward that it felt hot, like the heat in the fireplace when he fell into the stew. batts at this juncture jerked his weapon from its holster, but the pistol slipped from his hand and fell to the floor. "oh, you fool!" roared stillman. tad plunged out through the open door, landing on his face in the dirt. "jump to one side!" he commanded sharply. ned, taking the hint, gave a leap to the right, and just in time, for he was standing directly in front of the open door, through which two revolver bullets were fired almost at the instant of his leap. tad had crawled to the left. "run!" he called. ned did run until butler called a halt a few rods from the cabin. tad grasped the arm of his companion the instant he reached him, then led the boy back toward the cabin. "where, where you going?" gasped tad. "to see what is going on back there. are you hurt?" "i'm near dead," groaned rector. "i haven't any skin left except what is hanging in shreds. oh, what an awful experience. i'll bet you are a sight, too." the boys were creeping nearer the cabin. they found the two men inside stamping out the fire on which they had thrown blankets from the bunks. stillman dashed out of doors as soon as he had extinguished the fire. in his hand was his rifle. in the meantime batts had procured another lamp and shortly afterwards had lighted and placed it on the table. stillman remained outside, crouching by the doorway listening, with rifle ready to take a shot at the slightest sound. at that moment tad butler and ned rector were lying less than ten feet from the crouching figure of the mountaineer. they dared hardly breathe. "what do you make of it, jay?" asked the other man, thrusting his head out close to the watching mountaineer. "funny business." "where are they?" "i wish i knew. i'd kill them on sight." "you--you don't think it was one of the outfit down in the gulch, do you?" asked batts. "i reckon not. still, it might have been. we'll get supper and i'll go down there and find out," decided stillman with emphasis. "if i see any signs of a fellow who has been in a fire i'll plug him sure as my name's stillman," raged the mountaineer. "look out, joe!" warned batts. "they may still be touchy about the pup and have a weather eye open." "they won't catch me, now that i'm on my guard." stillman entered the cabin, slamming the door behind him. "somebody ought to keep watch," suggested batts. "you go out. i'll fix up the wreck. no; take your own gun. i want mine where i can get hold of it. i overshot, too. did you get wise to the foxiness of those fellows? run out on all fours so we'd shoot over them. foxy, foxy! that wasn't no tenderfoot trick." batts picked up his rifle and started for the door. "skip!" whispered tad. "run for it, but don't make a sound unless you want to stop a bullet." ned rector needed no urging. by the time batts had reached the threshold of the door the boys were well down the path. even then the keen-eared mountaineer heard them, and sent a bullet in their direction, but the bullet sailed far above the heads of the boys. tad changed his course somewhat, as the fellow had their range a little too closely to suit young butler. "i guess that's all," decided ned. "don't be too sure of it. they may be following us, so we must be cautious." "what do you mean?" demanded ned. "i mean that i am going to follow those fellows. there surely is something big on foot. i think i know what it is, and if i am right we shall have done the biggest piece of work of our lives." ned rector groaned. chapter xxiii the mystery of smoky bald an hour passed before the boys discovered any sign of life about the cabin. the hoot of an owl somewhere off to their right brought stillman to the door of the cabin. two quick hoots from stillman elicited an answering one from the brush. then a man stepped into the clearing. "smoky griffin," breathed tad. "i was certain that he was in this deal, whatever it may be. there! see! he is giving stillman something. those fellows surely are bold. how do they know but we are still hanging around here?" tad crept away and was soon pressing his ear close to the window over which the brown paper was stretched. while he could hear the voices of the three men in there, he was unable to make out a word of what they were saying. half an hour later smoky left the cabin. he was shortly followed by joe batts and stillman, who plainly were trailing smoky. something was doing in a very few minutes. stillman and batts had emerged from the cabin so cautiously that none but sharp eyes could have detected their exit. the men separated and cautiously worked their way around the cabin, all the time enlarging their circle of observation, until they had penetrated far into the shrubbery. apparently having satisfied themselves that there were no prowlers about, they joined and started off to the northward, plainly following a well-established trail. "they are off. come on," whispered tad with a trace of excitement in his voice. the mountaineers strode rapidly along, apparently without thought that they might be followed. nevertheless tad used every caution, though he was obliged to travel rapidly to keep up with the men. "look there!" whispered tad, crouching low. the mountaineers had suddenly halted. in the near distance butler discovered, faintly outlined, a cabin. just then one of the men placed his hands to his lips and uttered a long-drawn cry that sounded like the call of a night bird. a light flashed up. it seemed to be high up near the tops of the trees. the light was more like an electric flash than that from an ordinary lamp. "hark! hear that!" exclaimed ned. "a gasoline motor. this is strange," muttered butler. stillman and batts strode to the cabin and after a few moments were admitted. tad and ned crept up closer. they dared not go all the way to the mountain cabin until after they had assured themselves that there were no traps for them to fall into. it had seemed a little too easy for tad thus far. "ah!" he exclaimed suddenly, after having stretched out his hand to feel his way ahead. "what is it?" demanded rector. "a wire, and it's charged. not very heavy, but it stung me. ned, i'll wager that this wire extends all the way around this cabin. you see it is only about a foot from the ground so that a person not knowing it was here would trip over it and probably give the alarm to the occupants of the cabin. this begins to look interesting." "oh, tad, look!" "sh-h-h-h! not so loud, ned. you surely will get us into trouble." "but look up there near the tree tops. what is it? more signals?" "yes, but not what you think," whispered tad. a faint crackling sound was borne to their ears, little crinkly darts of electricity shooting out from a point up there in the air. "i--i don't understand it," whispered ned. "wireless, ned," answered tad. "i looked to find something of the sort. someone is sending." at intervals the rhythmic squeal of the wireless would set in, then suddenly cease. finally the message was sent, so tad interpreted the sounds and flashes. the sending lasted all of ten minutes, then the power was shut off and silence settled over the cabin. "are you going to try to get into the cabin?" questioned ned a little apprehensively. "not tonight. i have other plans in view. i am waiting for--there they come." stillman and batts crept from the cabin and stood silently for several minutes. tad heard stillman say, "all right," whereupon the two men set off toward their own cabin, with tad butler and ned rector following at a safe distance to the rear. at last they saw the men enter their own cabin, after which tad decided that it was time to go home to his own camp. part of the return journey was taken at a trot, a regular indian lope, which was reduced to a cautious feeling of their way as they neared the pony rider boys' camp. a bright campfire was burning there and, as they reached the edge of the camp, tad saw that the entire outfit was up, though it was then two o'clock in the morning. there was a shout when tad and ned stepped into the circle of light. the two boys were not pleasant-looking objects. their faces were blackened and their hair badly singed, while their clothing was half burned from their bodies. jim dunkan and his companions saw that the boys had been through a tough experience, but they waited in patience until tad should be ready to explain what had occurred. walter and chunky were shooting questions at tad and ned at a more rapid rate than any one person could reply to. "first put a guard out, then give us something to eat. we are liable to be spied upon and it is very important that nothing of what i am about to say be overheard by any outsider. who will take the watch?" tom royal volunteered to do so, though it was evident that he much preferred to remain in camp and listen to what tad had to tell them. "i--i got the biscuit thief!" cried chunky. "nassir. yassir. there he sits. chops is the biscuit destroyer. i caught him red handed." "by the way, mr. dunkan, stillman is the man who killed your dog," said tad. "we found the poor collie and gave him a decent burial." dunkan's face hardened and one hand dropped to the holster at his side. "i think we shall even things up with him, so please don't take the law into your own hands," urged tad. "i think you will be willing to let the law take its course after you have heard what i have to say. is there a government officer anywhere within reach?" "jim coville, the forest ranger, is the only man i know of," answered sam ellison. "where may he be reached?" "it's a twenty-mile ride to his station." "i must find him at once. will you go with me and show me the way? after i get something to eat i will tell you what has occurred." dunkan said he would. while tad and ned were eating their belated supper the others sat about--all but chunky, who decided that he too needed food--and waited with some impatience until tad was ready to tell them his story. this he did very shortly afterwards, sketching it briefly up to the time of smoky griffin's appearance on the scene. "you beat anything i ever heard of," growled sam ellison. "what do you make of it, sir?" asked tad. "make of it? why, tad, you've turned up one of the biggest sensations this mountain has ever known. those fellows that you saw shooting into the ground today--or the one you saw doing it--was salting the ground with gold so that when the man they were going to swindle had the soil analyzed it would be found to contain 'pay dirt' in profitable quantities. i wonder who the victim was to be?" "i heard them mention a man named beach," said butler. dunkan laughed loudly. "so! he is in it, too, eh? beach is a crooked real estate man from down asheville way. a wireless outfit on smoky bald, eh? well, if that doesn't beat all. kid, what do you think that wireless outfit way up here means?" "i have been thinking about it backward and forward," answered tad seriously. "i have thought that perhaps the sending that we heard was to some persons belonging to the gang. it may be that the folks at the other end are making a deal to send someone in here to be swindled. i may be on the wrong trail entirely, but that's the way i reason the mystery out." "boy, i reckon you've doped this thing about right," nodded dunkan. "is it possible?" bristled the professor. "then we must do something." "yes. we must get an officer. he will know what to do, sir," replied butler. "i first thought we might bag the outfit ourselves, for they surely are here for no lawful purpose. after thinking the thing over i don't believe it would do at all." "jim coville is the man we want. he is a forest ranger, and has authority over things besides trees. we will go get him when you are ready, butler." "i am ready now, mr. dunkan. we shall be back some time tomorrow, professor. i think the boys had better stay in camp. please, also, be careful how you boys speak of this matter, as there may be eavesdroppers, and no suspicion of the truth must reach the ears of the enemy." it was a few moments later when tad butler and jim dunkan swung to their saddles and started off for their long ride to the station of the forest ranger. chapter xiv conclusion day was dawning when the two, after a trying journey, reached the cabin of the ranger. tad uttered a long drawn "hoo-o-o-o-e-e-e," which brought jim coville to the door of his cabin. he recognized dunkan at once, and invited the two in. jim had another guest, a man who was introduced as rodman, and whom tad butler decided was a very keen, resourceful man. the callers, when they said they had something of importance that they wished to say to coville in private, were informed that they might speak freely before rodman. tad then told his story, watching and noting its effect on rodman. he saw that worthy start when he mentioned the sparking up near the tree tops. "young man," cried rodman after tad had finished, "you have done a big thing, and for which you have earned and will receive the thanks of the united states government. i am dave rodman, united states secret service, and i am here to find a supposed, or rather suspected, gang of swindlers in these mountains. i have covered the ridge and i have found nothing. your eyes and your scent were keener than mine. what is your plan?" "that we go there in force tonight." "i'll have to send for help. that will take nearly two days." "i reckon you will have all the help you need," spoke up jim dunkan. "there are four in my party and there's five of the pony rider outfit. i'll stake that crowd against any twenty men in these mountains. you turn these boys loose on their own hook and they'll bring back every one of these traitors, dead or alive--probably alive." "i am inclined to agree with you," replied the secret service man after a brief consideration of the subject, during which he regarded tad butler shrewdly. "if the others are from the same piece that you are, young man, i don't need any other assistance. i will go with you now." "no, that will not be wise," objected tad. "you must not be seen in our company or you will frighten away the men you are after. if i may offer a suggestion, keep under cover right here until after dark, then take the trail for our camp. i will start out early in the evening and get on the trail of the gang, meeting you at a certain agreed-upon point, where you will go with my party. i shall then know what to tell you about the situation." "all right. i'll be there at nine o'clock. thank you," he added, rising and giving tad's hand a quick, firm pressure. coville made his visitors sit down and have breakfast with him before they started out on their return journey. they left him about nine o'clock that morning. reaching their camp, tad, saying that he was too sleepy to talk, turned in for a long sleep, from which he awakened about four o'clock in the afternoon. he then detailed to his companions what his plans were, and named an hour and place where he would meet them that evening, then, shouldering his rifle, the boy sauntered from the camp as if he were out to hunt game for his outfit, and was seen no more that day. it was eleven o'clock at night when the mournful hoot of an owl in a gulch about half a mile from stillman's cabin brought an answering hoot, after a proper interval. a few moments later the party of pony riders and prospectors, headed by dave rodman, were startled to see tad butler standing before them. though they knew he was to meet them at that point, he had slipped in among them so cleverly that it seemed as if he had suddenly grown out of the ground. "you're a wonder," complimented rodman. "what is the news?" "your men are at the wireless station right now, and some hours before they were supposed to be there. there are five of them. beach is with them. it is to be their last meeting at the cabin, for they seem to have discovered that they are being looked for, and propose to make a getaway to-night." "who are the other three?" demanded rodman sharply. "besides beach, there are smoke griffin and the wireless man, whose name is hans gruber, and one other. i think we had better be going or we may be too late," suggested tad. dave rodman uttered an exclamation under his breath. "i reckon you're right," agreed the secret service man. "for your information i will tell you that i have heard of gruber before. he was under suspicion of being a german spy during the war, and was one of three men who blew up a munition factory in a certain place. the others were caught, but gruber got away. uncle sam is still looking for him. shall we move?" "yes," answered tad. "i suggest that we go cautiously and keep quiet. all ready." in due time tad halted at the point where he and ned had first discovered the cabin. he directed his companions to wait there while he did a little investigating. rodman was willing to leave the arrangements to butler, realizing that the lad was keen, and that, knowing the ground, he would be likely to avoid pitfalls. tad returned half an hour later. "the men are all in the cabin," he said. "they aren't working the wireless tonight, but they are working their jaws, at times having quite a heated discussion over the division of the funds. they expect a victim to come up here tomorrow with one of their fellows, to buy that salted-down gold mine, but they aren't going to wait for him. there is a light in the cabin. you can't see it from here because they have hung a blanket over the window." "do you know if the wireless plant is in the cabin?" questioned rodman. "no, sir, it is under the cabin," answered tad promptly. "the aerials are now down and all traces of the plant above ground have been removed." "huh! anything else?" "there is a burglar alarm wire surrounding the cabin. i'll tell you when you get to it. be careful that you do not stumble over it." rodman was amazed. "wait a moment," he said. "if you have a plan i should like to hear it before we proceed. perhaps i may not approve of it." "yes, sir, i was about to suggest it. there is only one door in the cabin, and that is on this side. there is one window at the rear. two men should get within easy range of that window, so they can plainly see any person who attempts to go out through it. the rest of the party should line up in front with rifles at ready, a little ahead of the others." "and what will you be doing?" demanded the government officer. "oh, i am going in to demand their surrender." "quiet now. every man on the alert," ordered rodman. "take positions." ned and ellison were assigned to guard the window exits, while the others were placed in open order in a curving line about the front of the cabin. "ready, butler?" for answer tad stepped forward cautiously, halting when close to the cabin, to look back at his support. he nodded, and walking up to the door, placed an ear against it. all eyes out there were upon the slender figure of the pony rider boy faintly outlined against the cabin. finally tad waved a hand to indicate that he was ready. he tried the door and found that it was not locked. slipping his revolver from its holster tad gently pushed the door open, so gently in fact that those within evidently thought a mountain breeze was responsible. butler was at one side of the door now, and was unseen by those in the cabin. his purpose was to give dave rodman a good view of the interior. "great guns but that boy is a cool one!" muttered tom royal. stillman sprang up and strode towards the door. his hand was upon it when all at once the muzzle of a revolver was pushed firmly against his stomach. the others in the cabin did not see what had occurred, but it was plain that they understood something was wrong. "put out the light!" yelled stillman, springing back. "you are surrounded. give in before all of you are shot!" retorted butler. he fired a shot into the floor of the cabin, and almost at the same instant a volley of revolver shots answered his own, but tad, crouching low, was unhit. he then fired a little higher, hoping to catch a leg. he did. the leg belonged to stillman, as tad knew by the yell that followed. "do you surrender?" called butler, dodging to one side again. the answer was a volley of shots from the inside. "give them a low volley. look out, you fellows behind the cabin," ordered tad. the volley came at about the instant that tad threw himself on the ground. during the remaining few minutes the men in the cabin fired rapidly at the flashes of the rifles out there, but with poor results. stacy brown got a bullet through an arm--that is, it grazed the skin--because he decided that he could shoot better standing up. chunky yelled that he was "shotted," but no one paid any attention to him. professor zepplin was blazing away, while ned and royal lay flat on their stomachs back of the cabin, narrowly watching the window. their patience was rewarded a few minutes later when the window, sash and all, burst out and a human being tumbled out. he scrambled to his feet. "halt. drop your gun!" commanded royal. instead the fellow ran. royal brought him down with a bullet in the leg. "don't move. you are a dead man if you get up!" warned ned. "if the bullets from the officers don't get you, one of ours will. i know you. you're smoky griffin and we've got you dead to rights this time, you miserable scoundrel. you won't do any more bluffing on this range for a long time to come, i reckon." "why not set fire to the cabin and smoke them out?" cried walter perkins. "no, no, no," returned the professor. "we must not destroy the evidence. tad knows what to do and he is doing it bravely, like the man he is." "cease firing!" shouted tad butler. "they are asking for quarter." "what do you wish us to do?" demanded joe batts. "lay down your arms and come out one by one. don't try to go out by the rear window. i reckon one of your cayuses who tried it is lying on his back out there now." "come and get us!" howled a voice from within the cabin. "all right, we'll come and get you, but first we'll give you some volleys to put you in a more humble frame of mind. low ball!" answered rodman. once more tad, who had risen, threw himself down, and the rifles of his party banged away at the cabin, the front of which was by this time thoroughly perforated with bullet holes. "we give in. stop shooting!" called someone in the cabin. "cease firing!" commanded rodman. "stillman out first. leave your guns in the cabin!" stillman dragged himself slowly out. one leg would not bear his weight. "over there," directed tad, waving a hand toward his companions. "mr. dunkan, here is the man who killed your dog. hans, come out here. be quick about it!" a bespectacled, thin, studious-appearing man staggered out and collapsed on the ground. "batts and beach now!" the two crawled out on all fours. both had been wounded in the legs. "smoky griffin." "he went out through the window," groaned batts. "ned, have you got smoky?" "you bet." "that's all, then. no one else in there, is there, batts?" "go find out if you want to know," growled the mountaineer. "all right, i will." tad swept the interior of the cabin with a flash light that he had brought along, and found that all of the men were out. "gather them in, mr. rodman. all clear within." with a yell the pony rider boys and the prospectors sprang forward and a few moments later the prisoners, whose wounds professor zepplin had dressed, were securely bound. smoky was attended to by ned rector. an examination was then made of the cabin. in the cellar were found a gasoline engine with which the dynamo was operated, and a powerful wireless outfit. papers which proved to be of great value to the government agent also were found in a secret compartment under the cellar floor. at the direction of the secret service man, for reasons known to himself, the plant was left as it was for the time being. early the following morning the prisoners were loaded on ponies, and the long journey to the railroad station was begun. on the way to the station, beach, a cowardly fellow, was induced to make a confession, through which the government agents were enabled to telegraph on for the arrest of the men higher up in the nefarious scheme, which might have made millions for its originators. this crime syndicate had its agents in many cities, where victims were selected and sent to the mountains to be fleeced. ahead of them went the wireless messages giving full details and directions to the men that the pony rider boys had discovered on the ridge. most of the principals in the scheme were arrested, though the leading figure, if there was one, was never captured nor even identified. following the clearing up of the mystery of the mountains, the pony rider boys resumed their adventuring until the time came for them to head their ponies northward. the riders were going home, going regretfully, too, with a year of hard work before them, but to be heard from again in a series of delightful as well as exciting experiences. the story of these will be related in a following volume entitled, "the pony rider boys in new england; or, an exciting quest in the maine wilderness." the end generously made available by internet archive (http://www.archive.org) note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustration. see 32240-h.htm or 32240-h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/32240/32240-h/32240-h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/32240/32240-h.zip) images of the original pages are available through internet archive. see http://www.archive.org/details/boyscoutsinbluer00cart the boy scouts in the blue ridge or marooned among the moonshiners by herbert carter author of "the boy scouts first camp fire," "the boy scouts on the trail," "the boy scouts in the maine woods," "the boy scouts through the big timber," "the boy scouts in the rockies" [illustration: "good shot, bob!" cried thad. "get another stone, quick, for he's coming after you." page 146. --_the boy scouts in the blue ridge._] [illustration] a. l. burt company new york copyright, 1913 by a. l. burt company the boy scouts in the blue ridge. the boy scouts in the blue ridge chapter i. the hike through the smoky range. "did anybody happen to see my knapsack around?" "why, you had it just a few minutes ago, step hen!" "i know that, bumpus; and i'd take my affidavy i laid it down on this rock." "well, don't whine so about a little thing like that, step hen; it ain't there now, and that's a fact." "somebody's gone and sneaked it on me, that's what. i'm the unluckiest feller in the whole bunch, for havin' queer things happen to him. just can't lay a single thing i've got down anywhere, but what it disappears in the most _remarkable_ way you ever heard of, and bobs up somewhere else! i must be haunted, i'm beginnin' to believe. do _you_ know anything about my knapsack, giraffe?" "never touched your old grub sack, step hen; so don't you dare accuse me of playing a trick on you. sure you didn't hang it up somewhere; i've known you to do some funny stunts that way;" and the tall boy called "giraffe" by his mates, stretched his long neck in a most ridiculous manner, as he looked all around. eight boys were on a hike through the mountains of north carolina. from the fact that they were all dressed in neat khaki uniforms it was evident that they must belong to some boy scout troop; and were off on a little excursion. this was exactly the truth; and they had come a long distance by rail before striking their present wild surroundings. their home town of cranford was located in a big northern state, and all the members of the silver fox patrol lived there; though several of them had come to that busy little town from other sections of the country. besides two of those whose conversation has been noted at the beginning of this chapter there was, first of all, thad brewster, the leader of the patrol, and when at home acting as scoutmaster in the absence of the young man who occupied that position, in order to carry out the rules and principles of the organization. thad was a bright lad, and having belonged to another troop before coming to cranford, knew considerably more than most of his fellows in the patrol. next to him, as second in command, was allan hollister, a boy who had been raised to get the bumps of experience. he had lived for a time up in the adirondacks, and also in maine. when it came down to showing how things ought to be done according to the ways of woodsmen, and not by the book, the boys always looked to allan for information. then there was a slender, rather effeminate, boy, who seemed very particular about his looks, as though he feared lest his uniform become soiled, or the shine on his shoes suffer from the dust of the mountain road. this was "smithy." of course he had another name when at home or in school--edmund maurice travers smith; but no ordinary boy could bother with such a high-flown appellation as this; and so "smithy" it became as soon as he began to circulate among the lads of cranford. next to him was a dumpy, rollicking sort of a boy, who seemed so clumsy in his actions that he was forever stumbling. he had once answered to the name of cornelius jasper hawtree; but if anybody called out "bumpus" he would smile, and answer to it. bumpus he must be then to the end of the story. and as he was musically inclined, possessing a fine tenor voice, and being able to play on "any old instrument," as he claimed it was only right that he assume the duties of bugler to the cranford troop. bumpus carried the shining bugle at his side, held by a thick crimson cord; and when he tried he could certainly draw the sweetest kind of notes from its brass throat. then there was davy jones, a fellow who had a sinuous body, and seemed to be a born athlete. davy could do all sorts of "stunts," and was never so happy as hanging by his toes from the high branch of some tree; or turning a double somersault in the air, always landing on his nimble feet, like a cat. davy had one affliction, which often gave him more or less trouble. he was liable to be seized with cramps at any time; and these doubled him up in a knot. he carried some pills given to him by the family doctor at home, and at such times one of the other boys usually forced a couple between his blue lips. but some of the fellows were beginning to have faint suspicions concerning these "cramps;" and that the artful davy always seemed to be gripped nowadays when there was a prospect of some extra heavy work at hand. the last of the eight boys was a dark-haired lad, with a face that, while handsome, was a little inclined to be along the order of the proud. robert white quail was a southern-born boy. he came from alabama, but had lived many years in this very region through which the silver fox patrol was now hiking. indeed, it had been at his personal solicitation that they had finally agreed to take their outing in climbing the famous blue ridge mountains, and tasting some of the delights of a genuine experience in the wilderness. among his companions the southern lad went by the name of "bob white;" and considering what his last name happened to be, it can be easily understood that nothing else in the wide world would have answered. of course step hen had another name, which was plainly stephen bingham. when a mite, going to school for the first time, on being asked his name by the teacher, he had spelled it as made up of two distinct words; and so step hen he was bound to be called by his comrades. giraffe also was known in family circles as conrad stedman; but if any boy in cranford was asked about such a fellow, the chances were he would shake his head, and declare that the only one he knew by the name of stedman was "giraffe," for some time he had gone as "rubberneck," but this became so common that the other stuck to him. giraffe loved eating. he was also passionately fond of making fires, so that the others called him the fire fiend. when giraffe was around no one else had the nerve to even think of starting the camp-fire; though after that had been done, he was willing they should "tote" the wood to keep it running. the day was rather warm, even for up in the mountains, and if the signs told the truth they might look for a thunder storm before a great while. as the scouts had no tents along, and were marching in very light order, they would have to depend upon their natural sagacity to carry them through any emergencies that might arise, either in connection with the weather, or the food line. but they knew they could place unlimited dependence on their leaders; and besides, as bob white had spent many years of his young life in this region, he must know considerable about its resources. they were now in what is known as the smoky range, a spur of the blue ridge mountains, which borders on tennessee. not a great many miles away was asheville, a well-known resort; but few of the society people frequenting that place had ever ventured up in these lonely localities; for they did not have the best reputation possible. among these wild peaks dwelt men who, in spite of the efforts of revenue officers, persisted in defying the law that put a ban on the making of what has always been known as "moonshine" whiskey. occasionally an arrest might be made; but there was much danger attached to this thing; and the country was so rugged, that it would take an army of united states regulars to clean out the nests of moonshiners holding forth there. it would seem as though this might be a rather strange region for the hike of a boy scout patrol; and had the parents or guardians of the boys known as much about it as those living in asheville, they might have thought twice before granting the lads permission to come here. but it had been partly on the invitation of bob white that the expedition had been planned and mapped out. he seemed to have a strange yearning to revisit the region that had been his former home; and when some one proposed that they explore some of the mysteries of the famous blue ridge, bob eagerly seconded the motion, in his warm southern way. and that was how it started. once boys get an idea in their heads, it soon gains weight, just like a rolling snowball. and now they were here, with the grim mountains all around them, silence wrapping them about, and mystery seeming to fill the very air. but healthy boys are not easily impressed or daunted by such things; and they cracked jokes and carried on as boys will do with the utmost freedom. the conversation between step hen, bumpus and giraffe having attracted the attention of the scoutmaster, he called out at this juncture: "whose knapsack is that you've got strapped on your back right now, number eight?" a shout went up as step hen, quickly turning the article in question around surveyed it blankly; but apparently both bumpus and giraffe had known of its presence all the while, though pretending ignorance. "who strapped that to my back?" demanded the owner. "i don't remember doing it, give you my word for it, fellers. mighty queer how things always happen to _me_, and nobody else. but anyhow, i'm ready to continue the march, if the rest of you are." five minutes later, and the boys were straggling along the rough road that wound in and out, as it pierced the valleys between the peaks looming up on either side. there was no attempt at keeping order on the march, and the boys, while trying to remain within sight of each other, walked along in groups or couples. giraffe and bumpus, a strange combination always, yet very good chums, were at some distance in the lead. bringing up the rear were thad and allan, examining some chart of the region, which bob white had drawn for them, and talking over what the plan of campaign should be. in the midst of this pleasant afternoon quiet there suddenly arose the piercing notes of the bugle, followed by a loud and hoarse shout; and looking up hastily, thad brewster was surprised to see bumpus wildly waving both his arms. although he was at some little distance away, and at the bottom of the decline, what he shouted came plainly to the ears of the young scoutmaster, giving him something of a thrill: "hey! come along here, you fellers; giraffe, he's got stuck in the crick, up to his knees, and he says it's quicksand!" chapter ii. seeing giraffe through. "quicksand!" shrieked step hen, who happened to be keeping company with davy jones just ahead of the two leaders of the patrol. "hey! hurry your stumps, fellers, and get there before poor giraffe is pulled under. ain't it lucky he c'n stretch his neck so far? anyhow he ought to keep his head above water." everybody was on the run by now, and as bumpus kept sounding the assembly on his silver-plated bugle, what with the shouts of the advancing khaki-clad boys, the picture was an inspiring one. when they reached the border of the little stream that crossed the mountain road, sure enough, there was the tall scout up above his knees in the water, and looking rather forlorn. "what had i ought to do, allan?" he bawled out, naturally appealing to the one whose practical experience was apt to be of more benefit to him at such a time than all the theories ever advanced. "you see, i was crossing here, and stopped right in the middle to turn around and say somethin' to bumpus. then i found that both my feet seemed like they was glued down. when i tried to lift one, the other only sank down deeper. and it came to me like a flash that i was gripped in quicksand. when i told bumpus here he squawked, and blew his horn to beat the band." "horn!" echoed bumpus, indignantly; "why can't you ever learn to say bugle. you're the only one i know of that owns to a horn; and you blow that often enough, i'll be bound." "ain't you goin' to get me out?" demanded the now alarmed giraffe, as he felt himself slowly but surely sinking deeper. "say, is that the way to treat a fellow you all have known so long? i ain't foolin', let me tell you. and if you stand there much longer, grinnin' at me, it'll be too late! you'll feel sorry when you only see the top of my head above water. i tell you there ain't no bottom to this crick. it goes clean through to china, it does, now. give us a hand, allan, thad. one scout ought to help another, you know; and i bet some of you haven't done a single good deed to-day, to let you turn your badge right-side up." among boy scouts it is considered the proper thing to invert the badge every morning, and not change its position until the owner has something worth while to his credit, even though it may only be the helping of an old man across the busy street; or the carrying of a basket for a lame woman coming from market. this was what giraffe evidently had in mind, when trying to spur his comrades on to helping him out of the mire into which he had fallen. "what can be done for him, allan?" asked the scoutmaster, turning to the other. "yes, think up something, allan; and for goodness sake be quick about it," called the one in the water. "just hear how that sucks, will you, when i work my foot up and down? and now, there, the other leg's deeper by two inches than it was. be quick about it, or you'll be sorry." "if there was a tree above his head i'd say get a rope over a limb, make a loop at the end, and drag him out that way," remarked allan. "and pull my neck longer than it is; i'm glad then there ain't no tree!" snapped the alarmed giraffe. "oh! rats, he meant we'd put the loop under your arms, silly!" called out davy. "some of you get hold of those old fence rails over there," allan went on. "we can make a mattress of them, and get over to giraffe in that way. jump, now, boys, for he is really and truly in a bad fix; and if left alone would sure go under." "hurry! hurry!" shouted giraffe, waving his long arms; "don't you hear what allan says? it's sucking like anything. p'raps it'll open up, and pull me under before you can get started. quick, boys! for the love of misery stir your stumps like true scouts!" they came running up, each bearing one of the old fence rails that had been at some time washed down the stream during a freshet. allan took these as they arrived, and began to make a species of corduroy road out to the boy who was caught fast in the grip of the quicksand. "throw yourself forward as much as you can, giraffe," he said. "never mind about whether you soil your uniform or not. you can get a new one; but you never will have another life you know. there, rest your weight on that rail, and begin to work both feet free. when you get to lift them up, we'll lend a hand, and yank you out in a jiffy. get busy now, giraffe!" and the one addressed certainly needed no second urging. he worked with a vim, and presently called out exultantly: "she's coming now, boys; i felt both feet give that time. oh! it's going to be all right, after all. bumpus, i promised you my stamp book; but i reckon i'll need it a while longer myself, so consider the thing off. please come out, and give me that lift now, allan. two of you can do it easy enough." bob white, with his usual promptness, when any one was in need of help, volunteered to assist allan. between them they succeeded in dragging the scout who was trapped in the quicksand, out of his unpleasant predicament; and while about it all of them crossed to the other side of the creek, where they were speedily joined by the balance of the patrol; though every boy took advantage of the fence rails that lay scattered through the shallow water, in order to prevent any possibility of a repetition of the disaster that had overtaken their comrade. a halt was called, to enable giraffe to wipe some of the mud from the lower portions of his uniform. and of course all sorts of talk passed back and forth, as might be expected among a parcel of lively boys out for a good time. even the one so lately in dire danger had apparently gotten well over his nervous shock, for he laughed with the rest at the ludicrous nature of the event. "say, what kind of natives do you have down here, bob white?" asked bumpus. "the same kind, i reckon, suh, that they raise in all mountain regions," came the ready reply of the sensitive southern boy. "some are pretty tough; but then again, i give you my word, suh, that there are others you can't beat for being the clear quill. but may i ask why you put that question to me, bumpus?" "sure. there was a feller perched up on that rock stickin' out above us," declared the fat boy, pointing his finger upward along the rugged and rocky face of the mountain side; "i called to him to come and help get poor old giraffe out; but he never made a move; just sat there, and grinned. he had a gun along with him, and i s'pose he was a specimen of the blue ridge mountaineer. gee! you ought to a seen the long white beard the old feller sported!" "oh!" exclaimed bob white, looking excited, a fact that aroused the keen interest of all his comrades at once. "do you know who he was?" demanded the indignant bumpus. "i'm sorry to say, suh, that i think i do," replied the southern boy, slowly. "if your description is correct, and believe me, i have no reason to doubt it, that man you saw must have been no other than phin dady!" "phew! ain't that the moonshiner we heard so much about over in asheville?" asked step hen. "the same man," answered bob white, glancing a little nervously up toward the rock indicated by his comrade, and which, jutting out from the steep face of the mountain; offered a splendid outlook for any one who wished to see who might be coming along the winding road. "well, i don't like his ways, that's all," muttered giraffe, who was still trying to make his uniform look half-way decent after its recent rough usage. "anybody with one eye could see that i was bein' sucked down like fun; and for him to just watch bumpus here, blowin' his bugle, and shoutin' for help, without offerin' to lend a hand, wasn't--well, decent, that's what. p'raps some day it'll be my turn to grin at him when he's in trouble." "but you wouldn't do it, you know that, giraffe," said thad, smiling. "you don't forget that a true scout must return good for evil. and if the time ever comes when old phin dady needs help that you can give, i'm dead sure you wouldn't hold back." giraffe grumbled some more, but the scoutmaster knew that at heart he was not an ungenerous boy, though a little inclined to hold a grudge. "what are you thinking about, bob white; you look as sober as though you didn't just like the looks of things any too much?" asked allan, turning upon the other. "that's just right, suh, i can't say that i do," replied the southern lad. "you see, i was wondering what old phin would think about us. he's the most suspicious man in the mountains, and with reason, suh. foh years, now, he's been hunted high and low by the revenue agents. they've done all sorts of things trying to capture old phin, and raid his secret still; but up to now it's never been done. he likes a revenue man like he does a rattlesnake; and i give you my word for it, suh, the next thing on his list of hates is the uniform of a soldier!" thad uplifted his eyebrows to indicate his surprise. "i think i get your meaning, bob white," he remarked, slowly and seriously. "our uniforms might give this old moonshiner the idea that in some way we must be connected with the army; perhaps a detachment of scouts sent in here to get him in a corner, and knock his old moonshine still, to flinders. is that it, bob?" "you hit the nail on the head when you say that, suh," replied the other. "when i lived down this way, i used to hear a heap about old phin; and i reckon he'd know who i was if you mentioned my name to him. that's the main reason why he just sat and laughed to see the wearer of the hated uniform now used by the united states army stuck in the quicksand. i reckon he only thought that it would mean one the less enemy for the blue ridge moonshiners to go up against." "it seems to me," spoke up smithy at this juncture, "that in justice to ourselves we ought to seek an early opportunity to secure an interview with this gentleman, and explain our position. he should know that we have no relation with the army, and that in fact the mission of a boy scout is peace, not war." "second the motion, boys!" exclaimed bumpus; "and i hope our scoutmaster will appoint a committee of three, bob white, allan, and, well, smithy here, to hunt up the said gent, and show him--hey, jump out of the way there, step hen; the whole side of the mountain's coming down on top of you! hurry! hurry!" but as the startled step hen hastened to obey, with considerable alacrity, thad brewster, looking up, saw a head withdrawn from the point whence the round stone that was rolling down the side of the steep incline must have had its start. jumping in zigzag curves from one side to another, the rock finally landed with a great crash in the mountain road not ten feet from where the scouts were huddled in a group, watching its coming with staring eyes. chapter iii. in the deserted log cabin. "keep your eyes about you!" shouted davy jones; "mebbe there's more where that stone came from!" but after the rock had settled quietly in the road, silence again fell upon the scene; a little trickle of dirt glided down the face of the descent, in the track the round rock had made; but that was all. "whew! that's a pretty hefty stone, believe me, fellers!" cried step hen. "whatever loosened it, d'ye s'pose?" asked giraffe, who had jumped several feet when he heard the alarm given; for his recent adventure in the bed of the treacherous stream seemed to have unnerved the tall boy, usually as brave as the next scout. thad stepped forward. the others saw him bend over the big rock that had just played such a queer trick, narrowly missing falling among the gathered scouts. "look at thad, would you?" exclaimed step hen. "what's he taking out of that crack in the rock?" giraffe added. "say, looks like a dirty piece of paper; and that's what it is, sure as shootin', fellers!" "a message from the enemy; p'raps he's goin' to surrender unconditionally--ain't that the way they always put it?" bumpus called out, in high glee. thad, however, after glancing down at the paper he had extracted from the crack in the rock, looked serious. evidently to him at least it was no laughing matter. "what does she say, thad?" demanded giraffe, always curious. "sure, if we've got any right to know, read it out, mr. scout master," bumpus echoed, in his merry way, his eyes shining with eagerness. the scouts clustered around thad as he once again held the scrap of soiled paper up so he could see the comparatively few words scrawled upon it with a pencil, that must have been a mere stub, since it evidently had to be frequently wet in order to make it do duty. "it's brief, and to the point, i give you my word, boys," he said. "here, let me hold it up, and every one of you can push in to read for yourselves. the writer believes in making his words correspond with their sound. with that for a tip you ought to be able to make it out." and this, then, was what they read, as they bunched together on the mountain road running through the valley of the smoky range: "beter tak my advis an skip outen this neck ov the woods. the men round heer aint gut no use fo you-uns in thes mountings. that's awl. savvy?" there was no signature to the communication. "well, that's cool, to say the least," remarked allan, after he had read the uncouth note that had come down with the rock that fell from above. "tells us to turn right around, and go back," declared giraffe, who was inclined to be peppery, and a bit rash. "now, i like the nerve of the gent. just as if we didn't have as much right to wander through these mountains and valleys as the next one." "we're minding our own business, and i don't see how anybody would want to shoo us away from here," said smithy, brushing off some imaginary specks of dust from his neat khaki uniform, always spic and span in comparison with--that of bumpus for example, showing the marks of many a tumble. thad was rather puzzled himself. he knew that it would be hardly wise for a parcel of boys to deliberately defy such a notorious character as old phin the moonshiner, whom the government had never been able to capture; but then again there was a natural reluctance in his boyish heart to retreat before making some sort of show with regard to carrying out their original design. besides, when he happened to glance toward bob white, and saw how cruelly disappointed the southern boy looked, thad immediately changed his mind. still, he wanted to hear what his comrades thought about it; since they had long gone by the wise principle that majority rules. "shall we take this kind advice, and go back, boys?" he asked. a chorus of eager dissenting voices greeted his words. "not for joseph, not if he knows it!" giraffe chortled. "we never turn back, after once we've placed our hand to the plow," remarked the pompous smithy; and his sentiment was cheered to the echo. "take a vote on it, thad," advised the sagacious allan, knowing that if trouble came along after they had decided to continue the advance, it would be just as well to point to the fact that by an _overwhelming majority_ the patrol had decided upon this rash course. every fellow held up his hand when thad put the question as to whether they should continue the mountain hike. and the sad look vanished from the dark face of bob white, as dew does before the morning sun. so the march was immediately resumed, and nothing happened to disturb their peace of mind or body. no more rocks came tumbling down the face of the mountain; and as the afternoon advanced they found themselves getting deeper and deeper into the heart of the uplifts. "wow! but this is a lonesome place, all right," remarked step hen, looking up at the lofty ridges flanking their course. "i give you my word for it i'd hate to be caught out nights alone in this gay neighborhood. if ever there was a spooky den, this is it, right here. glad to have company; such as it is, fellers." no one took any notice of the pretended slur. the fact was, the scouts no longer straggled along the road as before that incident of the falling rock. they seemed to feel a good deal like step hen expressed it, that under the circumstances it was a good thing to have company. in union there was strength; and eight boys can do a great deal toward buoying up one another's drooping courage. "and say, looks more like a storm comin' waltzin' along than ever before," bumpus observed, as he nodded his head toward the heavens, which were certainly looking pretty black about that time. "thought i heard a grumble, like thunder away off in the distance; might a been that same old phin dady speakin' his mind some more, though," remarked giraffe. "only a little further, suh, and we'll come to an old abandoned log cabin, unless my calculations are wrong; which ought to serve us for a shelter to-night," was the cheering news from bob white, who was supposed to know this country like a book. "bully for the log cabin!" ejaculated bumpus, who, being heavy in build, could not stand a long hike as well as some other fellows, the tall giraffe, for instance, whose long legs seemed just made for covering ground rapidly. ten minutes later davy jones, who had pushed to the van, gave a shout. "there's your deserted log cabin!" he remarked, pointing. "am i correct, bob?" "you surely are, suh," replied the southerner. "and as i fail to see smoke coming from the chimney at the back, it looks to me as though nobody had got ahead of us there. if the roof only holds, we can laugh at the rain, believe me." when the scouts hurried up to the cabin, for there was now no longer any doubt about the storm being close at hand, since lightning flashed and the grumble of thunder had changed into a booming that grew louder with every peal, they found to their great satisfaction that it seemed in a fair state of preservation, despite the fact that it must have been left to the sport of the elements for many a long year. "nothing wrong with this, boys," announced the scoutmaster, as they pushed inside the log house, and looked around. "and if we know half as much as we think we do, there'll be a pile of wood lying here before that rain drops down on us. just remember that we've got a whole night ahead." "hurrah! that's the ticket! get busy everybody. we don't belong to the beaver patrol, but we can work just as well as if we did. whoop her up, fellers!" bumpus was as good as his words. dropping his haversack and staff in a corner, he pushed out of the door. although the evening was being ushered in sooner than might have been expected, owing to the swoop of the storm, there was still plenty of light to see where dry wood was to be picked up for the effort. and immediately every one of the eight scouts was working furiously to bring in a good supply. no doubt the rattle of the thunder caused the boys to hurry things; for by the time the first drops began to fall they had secured as much as they expected to use. and already there was giraffe on his knees in front of the big fireplace that lay at the foot of the wide-throated chimney, whittling shavings with which to start a cheery blaze. this had just started into life when the rattle of a horse's hoofs came to the ears of the boys who had clustered at the door to witness the breaking of the summer storm. "hey! looks like another pilgrim overtaken by the gale," said davy jones, as a man on horseback came riding furiously along the wretched road, heading straight for the old cabin; as though he knew of its presence, and might indeed have found its shelter acceptable on other occasions. he was evidently greatly astonished to find the place already occupied by a bevy of boys dressed in khaki uniforms. at first thad thought he could see an expression akin to fear upon the thin face of the man, who seemed to be something above the average mountaineer; possibly the keeper of a country store among the mountains; or it might be a doctor; a lawyer, or a county surveyor, for he had rather a professional air about him. allan had immediately assured him that they were only seeking temporary shelter in the old cabin, and that he would be quite welcome to share it with them until the storm blew over, or as long as he wished to stay. as the man, leaving his horse tied outside to take the rain as it came, pushed inside the cabin, thad saw bob white suddenly observe him with kindling eyes. then to his further surprise he noticed that the southern boy drew the rim of his campaign hat further down over his eyes, as though to keep his face from being recognized by the newcomer. another minute, and bob had drawn the young scoutmaster aside, to whisper in his ear a few words that aroused thad's curiosity to the utmost. "that is reuben sparks, the guardian of my little cousin bertha, a cruel man, who hates our whole family. he must not recognize me, or it might spoil one of my main objects in coming down here into the blue ridge valleys. warn the boys when you can, please thad, not to mention me only as bob white. oh! i wonder if this meeting is only an accident; or was guided by the hand of fate?" chapter iv. after the storm. thad remembered that on several other occasions the southern boy had mentioned the name of his little cousin, and always with a certain tender inflection to the soft voice that stamped him for one who had been born below the dixie line. and while bob white had not seen fit to take his friend into his confidence it had always been plain to thad that the other must have cherished a deep affection for the said bertha; perhaps, since he had no sister of his own, she may have been as dear to him as one, in those times when he lived among the blue ridge mountains. before now thad had strongly suspected that bob had some other object in coaxing his comrades to make the pilgrimage to the land of the sky, besides the desire to show them its wonders. and now his own words proved it. more than that, it seemed to have some strange connection with this same little cousin, bertha; and naturally with her legally appointed guardian, reuben sparks. thad, first of all, managed to pass the word around in a whisper, just as bob wished it done. the boys understood that there was a reason back of the request, and expected that their comrade would take them into his confidence later on. besides, there had really never been the slightest chance that any one of them would breathe that name of quail in connection with bob; indeed, most of them would have had to stop and think, if suddenly asked what his real name was, so seldom did they hear it mentioned. the man on horseback was chatting with allan and several others. he did not hesitate to ask questions, and was soon put in possession of the fact that they were merely the members of a boy scout patrol, making a strenuous hike through the big smoky spur of the blue ridge. thad saw that he eyed them queerly many times, as though rather doubtful whether they were giving him a straight story; but the coming of the storm soon held the attention of them all. just as they had expected, it was the real thing in the way of a summer storm. the lightning flashed in a way that was not only dazzling but "fearsome" as smithy expressed it, in his elegant way. and as for the crashes of thunder that followed each and every electric current, they deafened the ears of the scouts. a deluge of rain fell in a short time, and the rush of water near by told that the little stream, which they had struck many times during the afternoon, had all of a sudden become a raging torrent. nobody was sorry when finally the racket began to subside, and the rain stopped as suddenly as it had started. "she's done for," remarked bumpus, in a relieved tone, as though he had been half suspecting that the stream might rise in its might, and sweep cabin, scouts and all down through the valley. the resident of the region who had also sought shelter in the friendly cabin by the wayside, looked out first, to assure himself that his horse had come through the storm safely. then he called out good-bye, and mounting, rode away. "good riddance to bad rubbish, i take it," declared giraffe. "whenever the fire flashed up that gent would look around the queerest way ever, as though he kind of thought we might be revenue agents playing a fine game on his friends, the moonshiners." "be careful what you say, giraffe," advised the more cautious thad. "when you're in the enemy's country you want to use soft words. besides, you're only guessing when you say that. he was naturally curious about us. some people would think a bunch of boys stark crazy, to try and hike through such wild country as this, when we could have taken to the good roads up in new york state, had orchards all along the way, and good-natured farmers galore to buy milk and eggs from when we got hungry." "i hope, suh, you won't be sorry you came down this aways," bob white spoke up. "i take it as a great compliment, believe me, that you-all would care to keep me company when i said i felt that i just had to come back here on a visit, to see what changes there were, and do a little private business in the bargain. i'm aware of the fact that there isn't anything much worth seeing here, suh; except the untamed wilderness; but they's always plenty of excitement going around, i understand." "i should guess yes," broke out step hen, "with that same old phin hangin' 'round with his eye on the watch for revenues. but see here, bob, don't you think you owe us a little explanation about this racket--meaning your relations with the gent who is guardian to your sweet little cousin bertha?" "so say we all," chorused davy jones, giraffe and bumpus, solemnly, as they gathered around the southern boy. bob white looked at their eager faces for a minute before speaking. there was something akin to real affection to be seen there as he turned his eyes from one to another of his mates. the boy from dixie had not been in the habit of making friends easily in earlier days; but when he landed in cranford he had soon been captivated by the sincere companionship of thad brewster; and when he joined the new patrol of the scouts he quickly learned to appreciate the many good qualities that marked the other members. "yes, it's only fair, boys," he began, slowly yet with an evident determination to take them at least part way into his confidence; "that you should know just why i didn't want any of you to tell the name of the town we hailed from, when that man was in here. he would have recognized it as my new home, and might have suspected that i brought you all down here for a purpose." "which you did," interrupted bumpus; "to admire the scenery; rough it awhile in the land of the sky; and show us something of your native country. if there was anything more, we didn't know it, bob white. but we're comrades, one and all; and if we c'n do anything to help you tide over some trouble, why, you've just got to tell now." "that is fine of you, bumpus, and i thank you from the bottom of my heart," continued the other, strangely moved. "but let me tell you a few things first before you make such a rash promise, which i am not going to hold you to, suh. the man who was in this cabin, reuben sparks, is said to be the richest and meanest in these parts. it has been hinted more than a few times that he has always been thick with old phin dady. but no matter how he came by his money, he is something of a miser." "no relation of yours, i hope, then, bob?" asked step hen. "none whatever, suh," replied the other, proudly. "the quails would never have descended to the common methods that man has practiced in order to make money. but somehow he managed to gain an influence over my uncle robert, after whom i was named, as you may guess, suh. when the father of cousin bertha died, in his will he left the child solely in the charge of reuben sparks, until she came of age; and he was also given control of her little fortune." the boy ground his teeth hard together, showing how even the recollection of this moved him. but recovering his customary calmness he continued: "she was the prettiest little thing you ever saw, suh, take my word foh it. and no boy ever thought more of his pet sister than i did of my little cousin. my father thought it a shame, and tried to get possession of her; but this reuben sparks had the law on his side, and all our efforts failed. after that he would never even let me see her, so great was his hatred for our family. "one way or another we managed to exchange word, and when our folks went up nawth to look after the mills my father had purchased before his death, i had just two letters from bertha before something happened, and they stopped coming. of course i supposed that her guardian had found out about it, and fixed matters so no letter of mine--and i sent seven before owning up beaten in the game--could reach her. "i just stood it till i couldn't sleep nights, thinking that perhaps she was being made unhappy by that cruel man. and so i made up my mind i'd come down here again, and find out the truth, if i had to steal into his house, and see bertha without his knowing it. i wanted to tell you this before, believe me, suh," addressing thad in particular, as the head of the patrol; while his fine eyes filled up on account of his emotion; "but somehow i couldn't bring myself to do it. and now, after hearing my story briefly, if you-all feel that it would be asking too much of my comrades to expect to have their backing in my wildcat scheme, please don't hesitate to say so, suh. i'll think just as well of you in either case." thad reached out, and caught the quivering hand of the southern boy in his own. "why, bob," he said, earnestly, "i think i voice the sentiments of every fellow in the patrol when i say most emphatically that we're going to stand by you through thick and thin. i'm sure you won't do anything but what is right, and what is bound to reflect credit on you as a true scout. how about that, fellows?" "move we make it unanimous!" cried bumpus, instantly. "ay, ay! that's the ticket," exclaimed others. "you hear what they say, bob white?" remarked thad, warmly. "we'll back our comrade up, even to kidnapping the cruel guardian, and rescuing the pretty little cousin!" smithy declared with unusual vim, for him. "oh!" said bob with a smile, as he looked from one flushed face to another. "of course i don't imagine it'll ever go that far, boys; but i thank you for this expression of your friendship. i will never forget it, suh, never while i live. and i only hope that some day in the future i may be able to repay the kindness to one and to all." "then i take it that this reuben sparks does not live a great way beyond where we happen to be camped right now?" remarked allan. "i expected to show you the place sometime to-morrow, suh. it is worth seeing, upon my word," replied bob. "now i know that there's a whole lot of truth in that old saying about the devil taking care of his own," giraffe mentioned. "the rest of you heard reuben say he had been tempted to stop under that big tree we passed on the way here; but on second thoughts decided to come along to the cabin. when that one terrible crack came he got as white as a sheet, and told me he believed that that very tree must have been struck. where would reuben have been if he'd stayed there? kind of scattered around the landscape, i guess." thad had just started to say that it was time they thought about getting some supper, when he was interrupted in a most disagreeable manner. indeed, for the moment all idea of ever wanting to eat again in this world vanished from his mind; for something occurred that caused the scouts to rush toward the end of the cabin where the chimney stood, and catch hold of each other in sudden terror and dismay. chapter v. the jones boy comes to grief at last. there was a rumbling sound, not unlike the roar of a heavy freight train coming down the grade of a mountain. all of the scouts plainly felt the cabin quiver as though in the throes of an earthquake. then succeeded a crash, as the further end was knocked out. for a moment thad really feared they were done for, and his very heart seemed to stand still with dread. then, as the awful sounds died away, save for the patter of small stuff on the cabin roof, he breathed naturally again. whatever it was that had happened, no one had been hurt; and at least they could find consolation in this. "it's an earthquake!" exclaimed bumpus, being the very first to recover the use of his voice. "a landslide, you mean!" echoed giraffe, contrary minded. "thad, you say?" asked step hen; just as though the leader could determine the nature of the calamity better than any one else. "i think giraffe struck it about right," thad answered. "you mean part of the hillside caved away?" further questioned bumpus. "must have been the whole mountain top, by the racket it kicked up," davy jones grumbled; "say, my heart turned upside down; and i'll have to stand on my head to get it to working again the right way." "and look at what it did to our snug old cabin; tore the whole end off!" observed step hen, ruefully. "now, if it happened to be a cold night, why, we'd just be freezing to death, that's what. anybody seen my cap around; my hair stood up on end with the scare, and i must have dropped it? thank you, allan, for picking it up. i do have the worst luck about losing my things you ever saw." "seems to me," remarked allan, soberly, "that instead of complaining the way you fellows are doing, we ought to be mighty thankful it wasn't any worse." "yes, that's what i was thinking," smithy added, as he let go allan's arm, which he must have unconsciously gripped in his sudden fright; "what if we had run to that end of the cabin, things would look somewhat different right now." "ugh! guess that's right," giraffe admitted; "and for one i ain't goin' to make any more complaint. but what under the sun was it hit us?" "a big rock must have dropped down from the side of the mountain, and tore out the end of the old cabin," thad explained. "it came on this night of all nights, just when we happened to be camped here. and the cabin has stood unharmed for as much as thirty years, bob white says." "i call that queer, now," said bumpus. "it's more than that, bumpus," smithy remarked, in his most mysterious manner; "i'd call it highly significant, if you asked my opinion." "wow! listen to that, would you?" exclaimed step hen, shuddering again. "he means that the rock was smashed down by somebody who wanted to chase us out of this region. and that must be our old friend, phin dady, the moonshiner!" thad bent down, and proceeded to light a handy little lantern which one of the boys had carried for emergencies. "i'm going to take a look out, and see what struck us," he remarked. "be careful, thad," warned allan; "another rock might follow the first." "and if you hear the least suspicious sound, jump for all that's out," added bumpus, ready to admire the nerve of one who could face danger so readily, even though not capable of imitating thad's example himself. "oh! i reckon there's little chance of anything like that happening," the other sent back, with a little laugh, as though he wanted to cheer his chums up; "you know, they say lightning never strikes in the same place twice. it's taken thirty years for a rock to hit this cabin, though plenty must have slid down the side of the mountain in that time. be back in a jiffy, boys." with that he stepped out of the door, which had been burst open when the log structure received such a terrific jolt. the other boys clustered there by the revived fire, exchanging views, and waiting for the return of those who had gone outside; for bob white had silently followed thad, as though he felt that since it was through his invitation that the scouts were placed in this predicament, he ought to do everything in his power to ease the strain. when they entered again in less than ten minutes, of course a bombardment of eager questions saluted them. "slow up, fellows," thad said, laughingly. "if i tried to answer you all, i'd be apt to get my tongue twisted some, and that's a fact. yes, it _was_ a rock that did the damage, just as we guessed. it rolled down from somewhere above; but we could only guess at that, it's so dark out there. and after taking a look at the size of the same, bob and myself made up our minds we had reason to be mighty thankful that it only touched the end of the cabin, instead of hitting it square in the center." "but whoever started it rolling?" demanded bumpus; and it was evident from the way the others waited to hear what thad would say to this, that they laid great stress on the answer. "well," returned the other, soberly, "of course we couldn't make dead certain, but after seeing the heft of that rock we believed that it was never started by any human hands. the rain and storm must have undermined it." bumpus heaved a big sigh of relief. "well," said he, "i'm glad of that. it's bad enough to think you're bein' bombarded by rocks that just take a silly notion to drop when we come along; but it'd be a heap sight worse if the men of the big smokies were throwing such pebbles at us, haphazard. whew! i'm hungry, fellers; who says grub?" that was just like a boy, to remember his natural appetite right on the heels of the greatest fright of his whole life. and as the others admitted to feeling somewhat the same way, there ensued a bustle to see how soon supper could be gotten ready. the members of the silver fox patrol were no longer greenhorns, though one or two of them gave evidence that they had not yet graduated from the tenderfoot class. they had learned a great deal about the things that are connected with a camp life, because they had spent some time under canvas on lake omega, which lay not many miles from their home town. and then again, thad had belonged to a troop of scouts before coming to cranford; while, as for allan, he had been through the mill so often up in maine and elsewhere, that he was, as bumpus declared, a "walking edition of what to do, and what not to do when in the woods." it is true that on this big hike through the mountains they were compelled to travel very light, and would miss many of the things that had added greatly to their comfort on that other occasion. but then it was their desire to learn how to rough it, taking the knocks with the good things. by this time some of the lads were beginning to believe that they would rub up against plenty of the "knocks" all right; especially if things kept on as they had commenced since striking this wonderful "land of the sky." the supper put them in something like their customary good humor. indeed, as they sat around the fire afterwards, bumpus was induced to sing several of their school songs, so that the whole of them might join in the rollicking chorus. strange sounds indeed to well up out of that valley, so lately the theater of a war between the elements, as lightning and rain vied with each other to produce a panic in the breasts of these same boys who now sang and joked as though they had not a care in the world. only bob white remained very quiet. thad often glanced toward the southern lad, with sympathy in his look. he could easily understand that, with their arrival in this mountainous region, where the other had spent many of his earlier years, old memories must be revived, some pleasant, and possibly others of a disagreeable nature. finally they agreed that it would be wise to get some sleep, as another day lay before them. and accordingly, in the customary fashion, the bugler sounded "taps," and each scout tried to find a soft board, upon which he might rest his weary body during the hours that must elapse before dawn arrived. a watch was kept up, one fellow taking an hour at a time, and then arousing the next on the list; so that at no time was the cabin unguarded while the night slowly passed. but nothing happened to disturb the scouts; and as morning came at last they began to get up and stretch, rubbing their limbs as though the hard bed had not been the nicest thing possible. but there was little grumbling. they had learned to take things as they came; which is one of the finest results of boy scout experience. the philosophy of the woods teaches that in the very start--try for the best results; but after you have done your best, accept the situation with cheerfulness. again the notes of the bugle sounded the "assembly," as breakfast was declared ready; and half an hour later they left their shelter of the night. "good-bye old cabin!" sang out bumpus, waving his fat hand back toward the wrecked log house; "you treated us pretty decent after all, and we'll never forget you. long may you wave, and offer shelter to other pilgrims storm chased!" as the sun climbed above the rim of the encircling mountains the spirits of the boys mounted in proportion. davy jones was up to his usual pranks, being hard to control. they would miss him for a short time, only to hear a whoop; and looking up, discover the acrobatic boy hanging by his knees, or it might be his toes, from the limb of a tree, thirty feet or more above the ground. thad knew from experience that it was next to impossible to restrain the jones boy; he must have his frolic out; and so they only laughed at his antics, and wondered what next the daring davy would attempt. ten minutes later he was seen standing on his head on the edge of what appeared to be a deep ravine or gulch, and kicking his heels in the air. all sorts of dire things had always been predicted as going to overtake davy sooner or later, unless he gave up these venturesome pranks; and this time it actually looked as though they were about to be fulfilled. for even as the seven other scouts were watching his antics, the earth at the edge of the gully appeared to suddenly give way. davy vanished from their view, the last thing they saw of him being his up tilted heels, waving what seemed to be a frantic farewell. with cries of alarm the scouts rushed forward, fearful as to what they would see. chapter vi. more signs of trouble ahead. "oh! did you see him kick his heels at us as he went down?" gasped bumpus, as they hurried forward to the spot where the venturesome scout had vanished so forlornly; "i'll never forget it, never! just like the poor old chap wanted to say 'good-bye boys!'" bumpus was too honest and warm hearted a fellow to say this with any intention of being hilarious. he sincerely felt every word of it. of course the long-legged giraffe had to be the first to arrive on the scene of the late tragedy. thad felt constrained to call out to him in warning. "be careful there, giraffe, or else there may be another of us down in that pocket. look out for your footing, i tell you!" the other had dropped flat on his chest. he was seen to stretch his neck in the endeavor to get the best results with a minimum of risk; and they did say that when giraffe really and truly did his prettiest in this respect he could cover more territory than any one else ever seen. "oh! is he smashed flatter'n a pancake?" asked step hen, as he drew near, with his melancholy face looking longer than usual; and the whites of his eyes showing strongly, as they always did when he was frightened. giraffe twisted his head around with the utmost ease; indeed, from the length of his neck it looked as though he might continue the turning movement until he had actually made a complete revolution. and when thad caught sight of the grin on his face he felt immediately relieved; for surely giraffe loving fun as much as he did, would not allow this smirk to decorate his angular countenance unless there seemed little danger. another minute, and all of them were ranged there along the edge of the gully, staring down at davy jones. it would seem that the other had been agile enough to clutch hold of a small tree that jutted out from the steep slope. he was hanging to it now, and straining the best he knew how to fling his legs upward, so as to relieve the situation, and the terrific pull on his arms. he looked upward toward the row of faces peeping over the edge above; and there was a humorous grin on his face. he knew what his comrades were doubtless thinking about "the pitcher that went once too often to the well;" and that their natural alarm having passed, they would see only the humorous side of the affair. again did davy strain. there was something connected with the way he was hanging there that seemed to prevent him from accomplishing the result he wanted to attain. for the first time they could remember the boys saw that the gymnast and acrobat of the troop had certainly met his match. left to himself he would surely have had to invent some other method for drawing himself up on to the slender horizontal trunk of the little tree; or else let go, and drop. as it was a matter of some twenty feet or so to the bottom of the gully; and the chances were that he might receive any number of bad scratches while making the transit, davy of course would be averse to trying this plan. "guess you'll have to lend me a hand this time, boys," he called out, when once more he failed to make connection between his squirming legs and the body of the tree. "who'll go down, and yank him on to that tree?" asked bumpus; knowing full well at the same time that no one could have the nerve to ask a fellow of his heft, when there were so many others better fitted for the task. "don't all speak at once!" advised the hanging davy. somehow all eyes were turned toward giraffe. as the most agile of the lot, he might be expected to volunteer; and yet with not a particle of footing between the top of the bank and that tree, some ten feet down, the job was hardly one that might appeal to any scout, however nimble. "oh! you needn't look at me that way," he complained; "because i'm long, and active, you just think i c'n stretch that far; but it's a mistake. but if somebody _has_ to try and make the riffle, i s'pose it'll be me." he started to take off his knapsack as he said this, when thad stopped him. "wait, giraffe," said the patrol leader, quietly; "perhaps, after all, nobody has to go down after davy. you seem to forget, all of you, that we've got a stout rope along with us. what's the need of carrying such a thing, if it can't help us out in a pinch?" "bully! sure we've got a rope, and a dandy one at that!" cried bumpus, growing so excited that he came near falling over the edge, and had to clutch hold of the nearest scout to steady himself. "if you'd gone that time, bumpus, think what a splash you'd have made down there. because davy got hold of a tree don't think you could do the same. it'll have to be a whopping big one that could bear up under _your_ weight, all right," said step hen, who chanced to be the one whom the fat boy had caught hold of in his sudden alarm. it turned out that bob white was carrying the rope. he had it wound around his body in a way allan had shown him, so that it did not interfere with his movements, and was not coming loose all the time. quickly then was it unwound. in order to hasten this, the boys even began to turn bob around like a teetotum, until he said he was dizzy. "lucky it's got a loop handy at the end," remarked allan, as he took the rope, and sought a position directly above the hanging scout. "how is it, davy?" he asked, while lowering the noose. "if you mean how much longer i could stand it, i'd say not a big lot," replied the one addressed. "you see, the old tree cuts my hands just fierce; and i've been twisting around here so long now that i'm gettin' tired. how're you goin' to fix it, allan? might toss the loop over my head; but i'm afraid my neck wouldn't hold out. if it was giraffe now--" "here, you just let up on giraffe, and pay attention to what allan's goin' to tell you; hear?" called out the party mentioned. "do you think you could hold on with one arm, and get the other through the loop?" continued the maine boy. "of course, if you can't, why, i might swing it around, and you could somehow stick your feet through; when we'd drag the loop up under your arms. how about that, davy?" but davy made a test, and declared that one hand would hold him for a brief time. so, in this way, the rope was finally placed under both arms, and tightened. "now, get hold here, fellows, and give a pull!" said allan; "hold on, not so rough about it, giraffe, or you'll rub his face against the rocks and make it worse than if he'd let go, and dropped down. here he comes, boys!" "heave ho!" sang out the scouts, and foot by foot they drew the unlucky acrobat once more to the surface. "got off pretty slick that time, eh, davy?" demanded step hen, after the other had been landed, and bob white was coiling the rope around himself again. "never knew me to miss doin' that, did you, step hen?" queried the other; and from the flippant tone in which he said this it was plainly evident that the lesson had been lost on him; and that davy would be doing his customary stunts right along. the hike was presently resumed, and the little adventure reckoned a thing of the past. shortly afterwards they came suddenly on a man, with an old vehicle, and a slab-sided horse that looked half starved. the ramshackle wagon bed was covered to about the depth of three feet with poor looking straw, that seemed to have done duty a long time. as for the man himself, he was a typical mountaineer, thin and scrawny, with a small, weasened face, and keen, snapping eyes. bob white instantly pulled his hat down over his face as he saw the man. thad noticed that the other looked alarmed at sight of these eight khaki-clad boys strung out along the mountain road. indeed, he had the appearance of a man who would have turned and fled, only that he was afraid to do so after finding himself face to face with what looked like a squad of united states regulars, or at the least, north carolina militia, on the hike. he returned the greetings of the boys with sundry nods of his head, and urged his old nag along by several whacks from the hickory rod he held in his hand in lieu of a whip. so ramshackle vehicle and scared driver vanished around the bend which had concealed the scouts from his view until it was too late to run. "looked like he'd seen a ghost!" suggested step hen, with a chuckle. "well, you can't blame him, if he saw _you_ roll your eyes, and make that face of yours look like thirty cents," remarked bumpus, cuttingly. "he had mountain dew hidden under that straw," remarked bob white; "i remember the old fellow right well, and i'm glad he was that frightened he didn't think to take at look at me. nate busby is his name. he always was connected with old phin, and the others who make the moonshine stuff further up in the hills. right now, you can believe me, suh, he's on his way with that load, to hide it where somebody from town can find it." "he don't know what to make of us, seems like?" suggested giraffe. "that is the truth," added thad. "i thought his eyes would drop out, he stared so hard. seemed to me as if he actually expected some of us to surround him, and examine his load. how he did whip that old nag of his. the beast kicked up his heels, and galloped, perhaps for the first time in years." all of them laughed as they went on, talking by the way. boys can discover a ludicrous side to almost anything. good health, absence of worry, and plenty of food are about all they require; and the world looks its brightest. sometimes, when thad glanced toward the southern boy, he wondered whether bob had taken them wholly into his confidence on the last evening when he told them about his life amid the mountains and valleys of the blue ridge range. it struck him that bob frowned too often to indicate a clear conscience. "there's something else on his mind, and that's certain," thad was saying to himself. "he keeps looking in my direction every little while, and i wouldn't be surprised if he came over pretty soon to tell me something he's been keeping back. but it don't matter; we'll stand behind bob all the time. he's a fine fellow, as true as gold; and one scout should always help another in trouble." his reflections were interrupted by bumpus, who edged over nearer the patrol leader to impart the information that, happening to look back, he had discovered some one thrusting his head out from behind a rock, as though he might be following in their wake! chapter vii. the message of the split stick. a temporary halt had been called, and the scouts were consulting as to what this new development might mean. "sure you saw a man, are you, bumpus?" asked giraffe, as though he had an idea the stout boy might have deceived himself. "twa'n't a rolling stone, now, i take it? or it couldn't have been a frisky little 'coon' or 'possum,' i suppose?" "well, what d'ye think i've got eyes for, if i don't know a biped when i see one?" retorted bumpus, indignantly. "he was as plain as anything; and makin' from one pile of rocks to another. you go with me back there, and i'll show you, giraffe. then you'll believe me when i say a thing." the two boys made a move as if to carry out this project, only the scoutmaster put a stop to it. "don't think of doing that, fellows," thad said, quickly. "these mountaineers are a thin-skinned lot as far as i've been able to learn; and they won't stand for any poking of your nose into their business. besides, if it was a man, the chances are he would be armed, and you might bring a hornet's nest down about our ears." "oh! he did have a gun, all right," remarked bumpus, carelessly. "you didn't mention that before," broke in step hen, with an intaking of breath that betrayed excitement. "'cause nobody asked me; and every one wanted to have something to say," retorted the other. "it was a gun, and an _awful_ wicked looking one too, about as long as my staff, seemed to me." "could it have been old phin?" suggested allan. "how about that, bumpus; was he an old man with a gray beard?" asked thad. "nixey; that is i don't know how old he might a been; but i'm dead sure he didn't have any beard at all, just a smooth face. but he was a regular mountaineer, all right, thad, with the dingy old faded brown homespun clothes, the slouch hat, and the ragged pants that never came near his brogans. he saw me lookin' at him, for he put on a little spurt, and dodged behind that pile of rocks, where like as not he's squattin' right now, waitin' to see what we're agoin' to do about it, and ready to speak to us with that trusty weapon if we try to rush his fort." "well, we're going to do nothing of the kind, just remember that," said thad, resolutely. "it's only natural that the men of these mountains should feel a whole lot of curiosity about us. i suppose now they never heard of the boy scouts; and these uniforms make them think we're connected with the army. now, we don't want to stir them up any more than we can help. they're an ugly lot, bob here says, if you rub the fur the wrong way. we didn't come down here to bother these moonshiners one whit; and if they'll only let us alone, we want to keep our hands off their affairs. let the fellow dodge after us if he wants to; he'll find that we're only a bunch of happy-go-lucky boys, off for a holiday." "pity we can't meet up with that same old phin, and tell him as much," smithy went on to say. "perhaps it might be managed easy enough," allan observed, and all of them immediately turned toward him, feeling that he had some scheme to communicate. "open up, and tell us what it is, allan," urged the impatient bumpus. "yes, don't keep us guessing any more than you can help," added step hen. "we've sure got enough to worry us, what with the troubles of giraffe getting stuck in that quicksand; and davy here, falling over every old precipice he can find, without you making us puzzle out a problem. how could it be done, allan?" "why, we'll send old phin a letter," replied the other, calmly. "show me your messenger, then!" demanded bumpus. allan picked up a stick, and deliberately split one end so that he could open it up. this he thrust into a crevice in the rocks close to the wretched road, and in such a position that it was certain to meet the eye of the tracker when he again started to follow them. "now, i'll write a few lines, and leave it here, addressed to phin dady," he went on. "i'll print the words in capitals, in the hopes that the old mountaineer may be able to read as much as that. if he can't, then some other of the clan may; and if all else fails, they'll have some boy or girl make it out. how's that, thad?" "splendid, i should say," replied the scoutmaster, smiling. "here, bumpus, turn around, and bend over." "what you goin' to do to me?" demanded the short scout, suspiciously, as he hesitated before complying. "is that the way you obey orders?" scoffed giraffe. "a true scout should never ask questions. s'pose them dragoons at the battle of the six hundred had begun to want to know the whys and wherefores of everything, d'ye think we'd ever had any chance to declaim that stirring poem? shame on you, bumpus, take a brace, and obey blindly." "oh! i only want the use of your broad and steady back for a writing desk, so allan can get his message written," thad at this interesting juncture remarked, easing the strain, and dissipating all the fat boy's suspicions. when allan had made out to complete his "message" he read it aloud, and also let them all have a look at it. just as he had said he would do, he had written it in the most primitive way possible, by making capitals of each letter. this was what he had done: "phin dady--we are a patrol of boy scouts, come down from the north to see the carolina mountains. we do not mean you, or any one, harm; but want to be friends. we carry no arms but a single shotgun." "that ought to answer the purpose," remarked thad, approvingly. "i didn't want to say too much, you see," observed the author of the message, as he fastened it in the crotch of the riven stick, where it must attract the attention of any one passing. "first, i had a notion to mention bob's name, as a former resident; and then i remembered that he said he didn't want it known he'd come back. so i left that out." "and i'm glad you did," said the one in question, hastily; "it would have done no good, suh, believe me; and might have brought us into much trouble." again thad saw him send that expressive glance his way; and his suspicions concerning bob having another secret which he had not as yet told, received further confirmation. "this, you know, fellows," remarked allan, "is the way the indians communicated in the old days; only instead of writing it out as we do, they used to make signs that stood for men, camp-fires, rivers, woods, animals, trails and such things. you remember, thad here gave us some talk about that awhile back. now, are we going on again, since we've left our wonderful message for old phin?" "yes, and perhaps we'd better keep somewhat closer together than we've been doing up to now," the scoutmaster suggested. "how'd it do for giraffe here to stay behind, and watch to see if that feller back of the rock pile gets the letter?" bumpus proposed. "after we turned that bend ahead he could drop down, and creep back. then, after he'd seen all he wanted, why it wouldn't be any great shake for such a long-legged feller to overtake the rest of the bunch." but giraffe evidently did not like the idea of being left all by himself after that fashion. he looked worried as he waited to see what thad would say; and was considerably relieved when the other shook his head, remarking: "no need of that, number three. it wasn't such a bad idea though, come to think of it, and does you credit. i'm glad to see that you're waking up, and beginning to work your brain more. but that message will get into the hands of old phin, all right, there's no doubt of that." "d'ye reckon he'll take our word for it; or believe it's only one more clever dodge of the revenue men to get him when he's napping?" asked davy jones. the scoutmaster turned to bob white. "how about that, bob?" he asked. "old phin is narrow minded, as you can easily understand," the southern boy replied. "besides, he's had so many smart dodges played on him, that he'll never believe anybody's word. now, he may make up his mind that because we're only boys he needn't be afraid we expect to capture him; but all the same, we might poke around here, meaning to destroy his still, suh. you can depend upon it that old phin'll never make friends with any one that wears a uniform. that stands for an enemy in his eyes. but i'm hopin' suh, that he'll just conclude to let us alone, and go to one of his mountain hide-outs, to stay till we leave the neighborhood." they were by now tramping along again. trying to forget the ugly part of the affair, thad was picturing in his mind what the home of reuben sparks might be like. he was a rich man, bob had said, and in close touch with the moonshiners; though the government had never been able to connect him with any of the illicit stills that had been raided from time to time during the last dozen years. and so it was only natural to believe that he must have surrounded himself with some of the comforts of civilization, while remaining in this wild region. words let fall by bob had given thad this impression; as though they were going to be surprised when the home of little cousin bertha was come upon. "i'd like to have a little talk with you, thad!" the scoutmaster was not very much surprised when he heard these words, and realized that bob white had caught up with him as he strode along at the head of the little squad of boys in khaki. "he just couldn't hold in any longer," was what thad whispered to himself; "and now he's bound to let down the bars all the way, so somebody will share his secret with him." turning upon the other, he said, pleasantly: "why, as many as you like, bob; what's bothering you now; for i've seen you looking my way quite some time, as though you wanted to speak. i guess you'll feel better when you've had it out." "perhaps i may, suh, though i'm ashamed to have kept it from you so long," answered the southern boy, shame-facedly. "fact is, i tried to deceive myself into thinking that it couldn't interest or concern any of my chums. but now, since i've been thinking it all over, and we've run across old phin, it looks different to me, and i'm of the opinion i had ought to have mentioned this before i took the lot of you down into these danger mountains!" thad knew then that it could be no trifling thing that would agitate the other as this seemed to do, and he steadied himself to meet the disclosure. chapter viii. bob confides in the patrol leader. "what i want to tell you about is--my father," said bob, swallowing something that seemed to be sticking in his throat; as though the mere mention of his dead parent had the power to affect him so. "yes?" thad said, encouragingly, wondering at the same time how one who had passed to the other side several years now, could have any sort of connection with the mission of the scouts to this region. "you'll perhaps understand, suh," continued bob, getting a firmer grip on himself; "when i mention the fact that my father, for a year or so before he was taken, had filled the office of united states marshal for this district." "oh!" exclaimed thad, beginning to see light now. "he was induced to take the office by the president himself, who was a personal friend of my father," the boy went on, proudly; "and having given his word, nothing could make him back out. up to then we had lived at peace with everybody in these mountains; but of course that was bound to come to an end after he had sworn to do his duty; which was to send out his agents to destroy all the secret stills, and bring in the law breakers, if they could be found." "he must soon have had the enmity of old phin, and every other moonshiner about the big smokies," thad remarked, the other having paused, as though to give him a chance to express an opinion. "that is just what happened, suh," bob went on, hurriedly, as, having broken the ice, he wanted to get through as speedily as possible. "after he had led several successful raids in person, the mountaineers saw that they had a different man to deal with from the other old marshal. they sent him terrible warnings of what was going to happen to him if he kept up his work; but my father was a quail; and he didn't know the meanin' of the word fear, suh." "were you and your mother living near here all that time, bob?" asked the scoutmaster. "because, i should have thought she might have been worried for fear some of those desperate men tried to stop your father's work by burning down his home, or doing something like that?" "there were threats made, suh, to that effect; and my father moved his family to asheville to feel that we would be all safe. then there came a dreadful day for us, when my father never came back, after he had gone into these mountains to arrest another batch of moonshiners, whose still had been located. one of the men who had accompanied him told us he had seen him shot down. they were surrounded by bushwhackers, and the rifles were popping all about, so they had to leave him there. he was surely dead, they claimed, before they fled from the spot, and of course, suh, they could not burden themselves with his body." again bob white paused to gulp down the obstacle in his throat. "now, you are wondering, suh, how it happened that when we came to cranford there was a gentleman with us who was called mr. quail, and supposed to be my father. that was my father's twin brother, living in philadelphia. he kindly offered to stay with my mother, who never goes out at all, until we became settled. her mother, my grandmother, had left me a heap of stock in the bank and mills of cranford; and as it was very unpleasant for my mother down this aways, after father went, she had determined to locate up yondah." "and does she know about you coming down here?" asked thad, suspiciously, as if he feared that the other might have deceived the only parent he had left; this bringing a tragedy of the grim mountains so close home to them had given the scout leader considerable of a thrill, for after all, despite his courage and grit, thad was only a boy. bob drew himself up proudly, and his black eyes flashed. "i would sooner cut off my right hand, suh, than deceive my mother," he said. "and, so you may understand the whole thing, i must tell you what a strange longin' i've been hugging to my heart these two years back. it is this. what if, after all, my father was _not_ dead at the time his men saw him fall; what if these moonshiners have kept him a prisoner somewhere in these mountains all this while, meanin' to punish him because he had given them all so much trouble!" "that's a stunning shock you've given me, bob," said thad, drawing a long breath; "but see here, is it just a wild wish to have it so; or have you any reason to believe such a thing; any foundation for the theory, in fact?" "i'll tell you, suh," bob went on, feverishly. "a man came to me one day, and said he had been sent by one of the revenues who had been with my father that sad time, to tell me what he had picked up in the mountains. there were rumors going around that somewhere deep in the mountains, at one of the secret stills, the moonshiners kept a prisoner at work. some said it must be one of the revenue men who had disappeared; and that the moonshiners were bent on making him work up the mash, as a sort of punishment for having done them so much damage when he was in the employ of the government." "i see; and of course you jumped to the conclusion that it might be your own father, alive and well, though held a prisoner of the moonshiners?" "both my mother and myself believed there might be just a little chance that way. she was in bad health, and put it all in my hands. we have never said a word about it to anybody in cranford. while i have been going to school with the rest of the boys in cranford, all the time i was in correspondence with one of the government revenue agents, and paying him to be on the constant watch for any positive signs. he died six months ago, and just when he had begun to think he was getting on a warm scent." "i see," said thad, as the other paused, overcome with emotion; "and ever since then you've been longing to get down here again, to find out for yourself if it _could_ be true. i don't blame you the least bit, bob. and i only hope that you'll be able to learn the truth, even if it dashes all your hopes. whatever we can do to help, you can count on. scouts have to be like brothers, you know. it's a part of our regulations to help any one in trouble; and that applies stronger than ever when it's a fellow scout." "oh! thank you, thad!" exclaimed the warmhearted southern lad, as he squeezed the hand of his companion almost fiercely. "i had no right to influence you to come down here. it is a dangerous place. right now i ought to beg you and the rest to back out, and leave me to fight my battles alone. but somehow i just can't find the grit to do that. i reckon, suh, i'm too selfish. i'm right ashamed of myself at this minute to feel such satisfaction in the grip of your hand." "of course," continued wise thad, "this old moonshiner, phin dady, might still have it in for you, as one of the quail family." "as far as that is concerned, suh, i'm not bothering my head, i assuah you. i'd just as lief face old phin, and snap my fingers under his nose. my idea in wanting to keep him from seeing me was along another line, suh. he would be apt to think 'like father, like son;' and that i had hired out to the government to find where his still lay, so it could be raided. no man has ever done that; old phin declares they never will." "if these mountaineers begin to get bothersome it might interfere some with that other little affair you spoke about?" suggested thad, as they continued to walk on in company. "that's what i'm afraid of, suh," replied bob white; "but i'm hoping for the best." some of the others happening to push up about that time brought the confidential conversation to a close. but surely the young scout leader had plenty to ponder over as he walked on. the hike through the blue ridge, which they had looked forward to simply as a test of endurance, and to develop their knowledge of woodcraft, threatened to turn into a tragic affair. at least, it was no child's play; and if they came out of it without any serious accident happening to any of their number, they would be deserving of great credit. but if thad and bob white were in a serious frame of mind, the same could hardly be said of several other members of the patrol. giraffe, step hen and bumpus seemed to be fairly bubbling over with good humor. some boys can no more control their spirits than they can their appetites. as usual step hen suddenly discovered, while they were halting for a breathing spell, that he was minus something. the evil spirits had evidently been at work again, when he was off his guard, and succeeded in abstracting part of his personal property. it really was a shame how they beset that unlucky fellow. "if it don't just beat the dutch what happens to me?" he was heard to loudly wail, looking around him in a helpless way. "what's the matter now, step hen?" asked allan; although he knew full well what sort of an answer he must receive. "they've been and done it some more," replied the disturbed scout, helplessly. the trouble was, that whenever he missed anything step hen always ran around looking in all the places that no sensible person would ever dream of examining. when giraffe declared that he was like an old hen with its head taken off, it just about fitted the case. "what's gone this time?" continued the boy from maine, with a smile at the way step hen was turning over small stones, and stirring the leaves with his foot, as if he really expected a miracle to be wrought, and to find a bulky object that way. "that little kodak i fetched along; you know i had it wrapped so carefully in a waterproof cloth, and tied with top cord. now it's gone! needn't spring that old story on me, and say i was careless. p'raps i have been a few times; but right now i'm dead sure the fault ain't mine. somebody's playing a joke on me. mind, i ain't mentioning no names; but i've got my suspicions." he looked hard at giraffe, and the accusation could hardly have been given in plainer language than that. but giraffe was used to being unjustly accused. there were occasions when he did seize upon a golden opportunity to hide something belonging to his comrade, because it had been left carelessly around; and giraffe believed it a part of his duty to break the other of such shiftless habits. but on this occasion he held up both hands, declaring solemnly: "give you my word for it i never touched any camera. this time you've either been and dropped it on the road; or else the gold dust twins have nabbed it on you." just then bumpus, who had been wandering aimlessly about after drinking at the cooling waters of the little spring that had been the main cause of this temporary halt in the march, gave utterance to a loud exclamation. he had tripped over something that lay in the grass, and a splash announced that with his usual hard luck the fat boy had managed to go headlong into the spring. scrambling out, with the water streaming from his red face, he turned indignantly on the balance of the patrol, now convulsed with laughter. "what sort of--horse play d'ye call that--i'd like to know?" he sputtered, trying to wipe his streaming face with a handkerchief that looked far too small for the task. "can't a feller--just stroll around camp--without some silly putting out a foot, and tripping him up? tell me that, now?" "i'm beginning to think we must have some sort of a hoodoo along with us," remarked smithy, anxiously. "all sorts of things seem to be happening, and in the most mysterious way possible. we all know that there wasn't a single fellow anywhere near bumpus when he pitched forward. yet he says _somebody_ put out a foot, and he tripped over it. i think it a remarkable phenomenon, for a fact, and worth investigating." "well, somethin' _did_ trip me, and that's sure," grumbled the other, possibly thinking that he had been too sweeping in his accusation. "suppose you look in that bunch of grass, and find out if the little evil spirit that's playing all these pranks on you is lying there?" suggested thad, with a twinkle in his eye, as though he could give a pretty shrewd guess what the result of the said exploration would turn out to be. so bumpus, always willing to oblige, especially since his own curiosity must have been aroused, proceeded forthwith to get down on his hands and knees, and begin an examination of the tangle in question. half a minute later he gave a loud cry. at the same time he was seen to hold up some strange black object. "look! bumpus has caught his little evil genius!" cried giraffe. "and ain't it a hard lookin' subject though. caught him right by the ankle, and threw him straight into our spring. lucky we'd had all the drink we wanted before he started to wash there!" "why, blessed if it ain't my kodak!" ejaculated step hen faintly, as though it shocked him to think how his lost camera should have been lying there in all that tangle of grass, where it had undoubtedly fallen as he prepared to take his turn bending over the water hole. of course everybody laughed, for they could guess what had happened. step hen's little failings were an everyday occurrence. as giraffe had often declared, the careless one would have long since lost his head had not a kind nature secured it to his body. the march was resumed, with thad lecturing step hen on his prevailing sin; and as usual step hen solemnly promising to be more careful the next time. but he had a very slippery mind, and the chances were that before nightfall he would be up to his old tricks again, accusing the rest of playing a prank by hiding some of his possessions. "there's a man sitting on that rock up there, watching us!" said davy jones, in a tone that thrilled them all. "a regular mountaineer too," added smithy. "just as i've pictured them often, with butternut jean trousers, a ragged woolen shirt open at the neck, and an old hat on his frowsy head. boys, he seems to have a gun in his possession, too." they were a little uneasy as they passed along; but the lone man seemed to simply watch the squad of uniformed scouts without making any hostile move. "chances are," remarked davy jones, after they lost sight of the man; "he was some sort of vidette or sentry, posted up there to keep an eye on the trail; and if any suspicious characters came along, to send word to the other moonshiners. i understand they can telegraph all right without the aid of instruments, or even the latest wireless outfit. how about that, bob?" "yes, it is so," replied the southern boy. "they do it by making smokes; or sometimes by sounds that are passed along from one station to another. it's queer how fast a message can be relayed in that way." "well," remarked thad, "that's the method used by blacks in africa; and they do say they can send news of a battle faster than white men can get it along by relays of telegraph stations, with breaks where a carrier has to be used." "are we getting anywhere close to the place you said old reuben lived at, bob?" asked bumpus, who was showing signs of being tired. "another hour will take us to where we can look across the wonderful little valley and see the place," bob answered. "you will all be surprised, for nobody would ever think so fine a house could be found among these wild mountains; but as i told you before, reuben sparks seems never to have been molested by the moonshiners. most people believe he is a secret partner in the business." "say, would you look yonder, where that road comes around the spur back of us; to think of seeing a real buggy and a flesh and blood horse, and back of the animal a gentleman and lady! i'm sure dreaming!" remarked giraffe, just then. "not a bit of it you ain't, because i see them myself," added step hen, eagerly. "and unless my eyes deceive me, we've met that gentleman before," said allan. "yes," remarked bob, with trembling voice, "it's reuben sparks; and that must be my little cousin, bertha!" chapter ix. opening communications. it was the most natural thing in the world for the detachment of scouts to come to a halt when they discovered the vehicle coming up in their rear. in the midst of such wild surroundings it was indeed quite a surprise to discover anything so civilized. so they lined up on either side of the road, resting on the stout staves which all of them carried as a means of assistance in their mountain climbing; just as tourists in the alps do when ascending some peak. thad noticed how quickly bob white pulled his broad-brimmed campaign hat down over his eyes; and at the same time managed to slip partly behind one of his companions. it would interfere somewhat with the cherished plans of the boy, should reuben sparks recognize him; and this was a catastrophe which bob certainly wished to avoid, if possible. the vehicle came on, and apparently the man must be telling his companion how he had met these young fellows before, for she was looking ahead with a great deal of interest and curiosity; though hardly dreaming that her cousin could be among the lads, who were clad in neat khaki uniforms, with puttees for leggings, and the well-known hats that distinguish boy scouts in every clime under the sun. just as thad had expected would be the case, reuben sparks drew in his horse as he arrived in the midst of the scouts. evidently he wanted to have a few minutes' talk with them; and allow the girl a chance to catch for herself a fleeting glimpse of that outside world of which she knew so little. "how are you, boys?" remarked the driver of the horse. "pretty fairly, sir," replied thad, anxious to keep the attention of the other directed toward himself as much as possible, because of bob's desire to remain unnoticed in the background. "we haven't been used to mountain work; but it's fine exercise, and our muscles are getting in shape by degrees." thad had before now, of course, flung a look at the girl who was sitting beside reuben sparks. he was more interested because of the fact that he knew her to be the little cousin bertha, of whom bob white had been telling him. she was a pretty little girl too, thad could see that; and he also thought there was a wistful expression on her delicate face. if, as bob declared, bertha was really a prisoner in the care of a cruel guardian, when her whole soul longed to be away from these wild mountains, and in the haunts of civilization, that expression would be easily understood. and right then and there thad brewster found himself siding with his chum bob white more than ever. he felt a hope beginning to grow strong within his heart that some way might be discovered whereby bertha could be taken from the blue ridge, which country she detested, and transplanted to that northern town where lived her own flesh and blood relatives, who yearned to care for her tenderly, if only the law would allow. thad saw that bob was no longer in the same place. the scouts had moved forward a little, to cluster around the vehicle, while their leader held conversation with the gentleman. and bob was gradually making his way around so as to come on the other side, where he might in some way attract the attention of the little maid without reuben seeing him. it was plain to be seen that he hoped to seize upon this golden opportunity to open communications with bertha. thad, while he continued to talk with reuben, and interest him more or less in the object of a hike on the part of boy scouts, kept one eye in the direction of bob white. he saw the other take off his campaign hat, and wave it up and down with a movement that of course attracted the attention of the girl. she started violently as she saw that well-known face of her cousin, of whom she had been so fond ever since she was a little tot. wise bob instantly placed a warning finger on his lips, and the girl immediately turned her face the other way, while that campaign hat was drawn further down than ever over the boy's face. so that when reuben glanced round, as if wondering what had caused his ward to give such a violent start, he saw nothing suspicious in the boy who was apparently bending over, fastening his shoestring. of course reuben sparks knew more or less about boy scouts, even though he may never have had the opportunity of meeting any of the great organization up to this time. no one who had the ability to read the papers could be without that knowledge. and thad made it a point to mention any number of interesting features connected with their work, that rather opened his eyes, and kept him asking for more information. like many other people, reuben sparks had imagined that the movement had to do with drilling american boys, so that they could become soldiers as they grew up. he now learned, to his surprise, that there never could be a greater mistake. instead of teaching boys to fight, the principles of the organization tend toward peace. the main thing advanced is to make boys more manly, self-reliant, courteous, brave, self-sacrificing, forgetting their own comfort when they can do a good deed, and relieve distress; take care of themselves when in the woods; and perhaps save the life of a comrade, should he be wounded by a carelessly used hatchet; or come near drowning. no wonder then that reuben sparks found himself intensely interested in what thad was telling him. his eyes were being opened to facts that he had never dreamed could be connected with a simple organization of growing lads. and many another who has scoffed at the silly idea of trying to improve upon the breed of american boys, has been staggered when brought face to face with many wonderful results that have already sprung from this greatest of all upward movements. thad saw after a bit that his object had been accomplished. bob white had not been so busy tying his shoestring as reuben imagined. on the contrary he was scribbling something on a scrap of paper, which he held doubled up in his hand when he worked his way to the rear of the vehicle. undoubtedly the little missy who sat there so demurely beside reuben must have been slily watching his actions. and moreover, she surely divined what bob meant to do; for as thad watched, he saw her left hand, being the one further away from her guardian, quietly slip back, until it came within easy touching distance of the scout who had sauntered up there. no doubt impulsive bob must have pressed that little hand even as he passed his note into its possession; for as he told thad, he had always loved his small cousin like a sister. fearing detection, the boy quickly moved away; and it was fortunate he did, since reuben in the midst of his questions glanced suspiciously around, a minute later. there was now no longer any reason for detaining the owner of the vehicle; and thad's eagerness in answering questions and giving information slackened. truth to tell, he was not at all favorably impressed with the looks of the gentleman. reuben had keen, rat-like eyes, that seemed to burn a hole in one when they became focused. there was constant suspicion in his manner, as though with so many secrets to hide, he had always to be on guard. and besides, thad believed that bob must have struck a true chord when he declared the other to be cruel and unscrupulous by nature. perhaps he might be plotting to secure the little inheritance left to the child by her father. it seemed almost beyond belief that any one could be so mean as to want to injure so sweet looking a little girl as bertha; but then, old reuben worshipped gold, and when a man becomes a miser he hesitates at few things in order to add to his stores. but however the gentleman might have been interested in learning more about the ways of boy scouts, thad took particular notice that he did not invite the hiking silver fox patrol to stop a day or so with him at his mountain home. it might have been just natural meanness that caused this, since eight healthy young appetites would eat up all in his larder. but then again, there may have been other reasons for the lack of southern hospitality. possibly reuben did not care to have inquisitive strangers prowling about his place. he may have occasional visitors, who brought cargoes which he would not want other eyes to see. the boys fell in shortly after the vehicle had vanished around a bend of the road ahead; and the march was once more resumed. of course bob took the earliest opportunity to forge alongside of thad. he was feverishly excited, so that his black eyes sparkled, and his breath came faster than usual. "what did you think of him, thad?" he asked, the first thing. "i must say i don't just like his looks;" replied the other; "but your little cousin is everything you said she was. but bob, she doesn't look happy!" "you could see that too, could you, suh?" exclaimed the other, gritting his teeth angrily. "i know he treats her badly. she is thinner in the cheeks than she was two years ago, though taller some. and thad, there's a look in her eyes that hurts me. i'm glad i wrote what i did in that little note i slipped in her hand. later on i'm going to tell you about it. but oh! it looks like there was a slim chance to do anything for poor little bertha." thad hardly knew how to console his chum. boy-like he was ready to promise anything that lay in his power. "well, there are eight of us, and that's not as bad as being here alone," he suggested, with a cheering pat of his hand on the other's shoulder. "you'll never know how much comfort i get out of that, thad," the southern boy went on to say, in a broken voice. "you see, i've been believing for a long time that there must have been something crooked about the way reuben sparks came into possession of bertha, and her property. but how to prove it, when my father failed, is what gets me now. but i'm full of hope; and what you keep saying gives me a heap of solid comfort. i'm going to try and learn the truth while i'm down here; and take her away from that man, if it can be done. i'm only a boy, and he's a cold scheming man; but all the same, thad, something inside here seems to tell me my visit to the old blue ridge isn't going to be useless." bob white seemed to be sensibly encouraged after his little chat with the patrol leader; for when he dropped back among the rest of the scouts he had allowed a winning smile to creep over his dark, proud, handsome face. chapter x. the voice of the silver fox patrol. "we're going to pitch our camp right here, boys!" said the scout leader, some time later; "and remember, there's to be no shouting from this time on. we're in the enemy's country, and must observe the rules of caution." "oh! ain't i glad though," sighed bumpus, who had been busily engaged between wiping his perspiring brow, and avoiding stumbles over obstacles that seemed to take particular delight in getting in his way, he thought. "but i hope you're not going so far, thad, as to keep us from having our regular camp-fire?" remarked giraffe. "without that, it'd be a sad business, i'm thinking. and what's supper, without a cup of coffee?" thad had been talking again with bob white; and evidently the boy who was acquainted with the locality must have posted the patrol leader regarding things. "oh! we don't expect to do without that, make your mind easy, number six," he replied, with a laugh, knowing what a weakness giraffe had in the line of eating; though it seemed to do him little good, since he was as "thin as a rail," plump little bumpus used to declare. with various exclamations of satisfaction the weary boys tossed their burdens aside, and followed by throwing themselves on the ground. after a short rest, of course preparations for passing the night would be in order; but a little breathing spell, first of all, was in order. thad walked away, in company with allan and bob white. "now, what in the wide world d'ye think they're going to do?" demanded step hen, when the three had vanished from sight among the brush that lay around. "there you go," broke out bumpus, "as curious as any old maid in all cranford, always wantin' to know the reason why. a pretty scout you'll make, step hen; and it'll be a long time before you win any medals, or pass an exam, for the proud position of a first-class scout. but i wonder what they _do_ mean to do?" the others laughed at this. "after this, bumpus, take the mote out of your own eye before you try and get a fence rail from mine. but they're up to some dodge, take it from me. and it'll be mean if they don't let us into the deal, sooner or later," and step hen shook his head dismally as he spoke; for he was most unhappy when he believed there was anything going on without his being told all about it. "great country this," remarked smithy, lying there on his back, and looking up at the lofty peaks that were bathed in the glow of the setting sun. "about as wild as anything i ever saw. don't surprise me to know that the men who were born and brought up here can defy the clumsy officers of the government, when they attempt to capture them. in my humble opinion they'll just keep on making that moonshine stuff here in the big smokies until the year three thousand, if the washington people hold that big tax on the real brand, so as to make it worth while." "it sure is some ragged," remarked davy jones, yawning; for davy did not happen to be possessed of a soul that could admire the grandeur of any rough scenery; and only thought what a nuisance it was to have to do so much climbing all the while. "hold on there, step hen," exclaimed giraffe, as the other started to collect a handful of small sticks; "don't you dare think of starting that fire. that's my particular job; the patrol leader gave it over to me, you understand." "just to keep you good," sneered step hen, throwing the sticks down again. "you keep on itching to make fires so much, that he just had to bribe you to let up, or some day you'd set the river afire." "huh! no danger of you ever doing that, i guess," chuckled giraffe. all the same, he got up, and began to gather small tinder on his own account. "mind you," he observed a minute later, as though half regretting his action in squelching step hen so soon; "if anybody feels like lending a hand to gather fuel, why there ain't nothin' against _that_; and we'll have that bully old coffee all the sooner, you understand." this sort of subtle persuasion seemed to at least stir davy jones into life, for getting slowly to his feet, he began to collect larger wood, and throw it down close to where the energetic fire-builder was starting to make his blaze. giraffe was a real fire worshipper. he dreamed of his pet hobby; and many times could be seen, apparently idly whittling a stick; when, if asked what he was doing, his reply would invariably be: "well, we might want to start a fire some time or other; and then these shavings'd come in handy, you see." on several notable occasions this weakness of giraffe's had managed to get him into more or less trouble; and the sagacious scout leader finally had to take him to task. so on this mountain hike it had been agreed between them that giraffe would refrain from attempting his favorite rã´le of making miscellaneous fires at odd times, if allowed to build all the camp-fires of the trip. and so far he had really kept his word, though there were times when the temptation nearly overcame his scruples. when thad and the other two came back, darkness had settled over the scene. this came all the sooner on account of the high walls that shut them in on either side; though just beyond the boys believed there must be some sort of an open spot, in the way of a valley. "i'm glad to see that you made a fine fireplace for cooking, number six," remarked the patrol leader, as he looked around; "because we may spend a day or so right here, resting up a bit. now, while supper is getting underway i'm going to tell you a few things that are apt to interest you some. they concern our comrade bob white here, and he's given me full permission to say what i'm going to." "there, step hen, what did i tell you?" cried bumpus, gleefully. "next time just get a throttle grip on that bump of curiosity of yours." "i've heard my maw say people that live in glass houses hadn't ought to heave any stones," retorted the other, witheringly. but the boys quickly forgot all their differences, once thad started to tell of the strange things which he had heard from bob white. there was an intaking of the breath, such as would indicate great excitement, as they learned how bob's father had been connected with the raids on the secret stills of the mountain moonshiners. and when finally they heard how he had met so terrible a fate, while pursuing his sworn duty by the government, glances of true brotherly sympathy were cast in the direction of bob. "now," said thad, in conclusion; "you've heard about all there is to tell; and i know you're tremendously astonished, because none of us had any idea that we were going to run up against such a thing as this when we asked bob to let us go with him to his old home here among the blue ridge mountains. but what is important to know, is your decision. majority rules in everything of this kind; and if more than half of you think we ought to turn right back, and not keep on, why, there's nothing to be done but turn about, and go over the trail again." "well, not much!" exclaimed giraffe, filled with a spirit of boyish comradeship toward the chum who had been so sorely afflicted, and whose sad story was now discovered for the first time. "put it up to a vote, thad!" remarked bumpus, trying to look grim and determined, though his round face was usually so merry that it was a hard proposition for him to seem serious. "all in favor of returning to-morrow say aye," thad suggested. just as he expected, there was absolute silence. "all in favor of sticking to our chum through thick and thin, and doing all we can to help him over the rough places, say aye!" the leader continued. a chorus of eager assents drowned his words. bob white's fine dark eyes filled up with tears. he could not trust himself to speak; but the look he gave each and every one of those seven loyal comrades was more eloquent than any words could have been. "after we've had supper," thad went on warmly, "bob means to go to keep his appointment with his little cousin, who expects to slip out of the house, and meet him where he wrote her he would be at a certain hour. there's the queerest valley you ever saw just ahead of us. across it you can see the lights of reuben sparks' house, and several others that lie there in a bunch, a sort of hamlet, because it's hardly a village. and bob says that reuben really owns about the whole place. he can get over there in an hour or so, because he knows the ground so well. and while he's gone, we can take it easy here, making up our beds for the night; if so be there are any bushes to be cut, worth sleeping on." "hey, would you see how fine a fire-tender that giraffe is; it's gone clean out, that's what?" cried step hen, just then. "well, would you blame him, when he was listening to such an interesting story as the one i had to tell?" asked thad. "get busy, number six, and have a blaze going in quick time." "ay, ay, sir," sang out giraffe, who had wisely laid aside a surplus supply of fine stuff when making the fire, which now came in very handy. and when the coffee was finally done, and they gathered around, sitting on rocks, logs, or even cross-legged, tailor-fashion, on the ground, the eight scouts made a very fine picture in their uniforms. apparently their appetites had been sharpened by that afternoon jaunt, judging from the way they pitched in. and perhaps, after all, reuben sparks had been a wise as well as prudent man when he failed to invite this squad of lads to stop over with him; for they would have made a sad inroad on the contents of his larder; and food costs money. "where's bob?" demanded bumpus, suddenly, after they had been about half an hour trying to lighten their supplies, and with wonderfully good success. "he was sitting over yonder only three minutes ago; and now he's gone. reckon that bad spirit of yours is sneakin' around again, step hen, and must a took bob by mistake; though i pity his eyes if he'd ever think so good lookin' a feller as bob could be you!" "bob's gone to keep his appointment," remarked thad, quietly. and the boys said nothing more about it, knowing that the southern lad laid considerable store upon this meeting with his little cousin bertha; whom he expected to coax in to helping him try and see whether sly old reuben sparks might not have forgotten to destroy all evidence of fraud, in connection with his dealings with her father, the uncle of bob. so the conversation drifted to other topics; and soon they were laughing over some of the queer happenings in the past history of the silver fox patrol. chapter xi. what was under the hat. the flames crackled merrily, and the seven boys who lounged there in as comfortable attitudes as they could strike, were fully enjoying themselves. this sort of outdoor life seemed to appeal very strongly to all of them, though of course to some more than others. it had always been a passion with thad, for instance; and allan could look back to scores of occasions when he sat by a camp-fire; because he was a maine boy, and as such had spent considerable time in the piney woods of his native state, hunting, fishing, and living close to nature's heart. while they could not indulge in any of their songs, according to the regulations that had been put in force by the patrol leader, this did not prevent the boys from enjoying sundry good laughs when comical stories were told. "reckon bob's been gone more'n an hour now," remarked step hen, who had been more thrilled by the story of the government agent's sad fate than any of the others; because step hen had always been a great reader of tales of daring and adventure, and often pictured himself playing the rã´le of a hero, with the admiring crowd cheering him to the echo, and wanting to carry him around on their shoulders. "yes, and pretty soon allan will be going out to communicate with him, because, you know they arranged a series of signals by means of the lantern, and burning matches that bob'll hold up. but don't talk too loud about that same matter, step hen; because, you understand, we're close by the road; and somebody might be coming along at the time. remember that man we saw sitting on the rock with his gun between his knees? well, i guess there are a considerable number of others just like him around these diggings; and by now they all know we're in the mountains, bent on some errand they can't understand." of course it was thad himself who said all this. he knew the failing step hen had of shouting everything out loud; and thad really believed they would be wise to carry on their conversation in tones that could not be heard very far away. it turned out later that he was wiser than he dreamed, when he gave step hen this little hint. they had started bumpus telling how an angry bull had once chased him around a tree on his uncle's farm, and the boys were laughing at his comical description of the scene at the time when the pursuit was hottest, and he could have caught hold of the animal's tail had he wanted, when a dismal wail arose. "well, did you ever, if that ain't step hen putting up his regular howl!" exclaimed giraffe, indignantly. "and just when bumpus here had got to the most exciting point in his yarn," added the disgusted davy jones. "whatever are you looking for now, you poor silly thing?" demanded the story-teller, who himself disliked very much to have his thrilling tale interrupted in this manner. "i can't find my hat, and that's what?" declared the scout whose besetting sin was carelessness; "had it on only a little while ago, but now it's sure gone up the flue." step hen twisted his neck as he spoke, and looked up into the branches of the tree under which they had built their camp-fire; just as though he really suspected that a giant hand had been lowered from the foliage, to clutch his campaign hat from his head, and vanish with it. things that step hen owned were always in great demand among these mysterious spirits of the air; since nothing belonging to his chums seemed ever to disappear. "oh! sit down, and let bumpus finish his story," growled giraffe. "what's an old hat after all, to kick up such a row over it? ten to one now you've stowed it away in one of your pockets. i've known you to do that more'n a few times." "'tain't so, because i've tried every pocket i've got, and never found a thing. p'raps, now, one of you fellers happened to see it lying around, and put it on, of course by mistake, thinkin' it his own. anybody got two hats on?" "you make me tired, sure you do, step hen," giraffe continued. "we know what he is, boys, and that none of us will get any peace till his old hat turns up. might as well get out, and find it for the poor baby. if i lost things as much as step hen does, i'd just get some twine, and tie everything on, good and tight. then if i missed my hat all i'd have to do would be to pull in a certain string, and there she'd be, all slick and sound." while he was speaking giraffe arose to his feet, but not without making sundry wry faces; for he had been sitting a whole hour in a cramped position, and his muscles were moreover tired from the day's jaunt. "now watch me find your old hat before you can say jack robinson fifty times," he boasted, as he started to hustle about. step hen seemed quite willing that he should carry out his word, for he himself made no further move looking to hunting for the missing head-gear. suddenly they heard giraffe give a queer little grunt, that seemed to contain a mixture of satisfaction and disdain. he darted into the adjoining bushes. "here she is!" he called out, "and alyin' in the shadows, as cute as you please. use your eyes next time, step hen, and p'raps--oh! great governor!" giraffe came jumping back into the circle of light cast by the camp-fire. he certainly did have a hat clutched in his hand, at which he was staring in the oddest way imaginable. the others had gained their feet, drawn by some motive that possibly they themselves did not half understand; but it had seemed to thad as though there was a note of sudden alarm in giraffe's cry; and the others may have thought the same thing. step hen, believing himself to be entitled to the recovery of his individual property, hustled forward, and deliberately took the hat from the hand of his comrade. "much obliged, giraffe, on account of going to all that trouble for me," he said, sweetly, so as to impress the other, and cause him to repeat the favor at some future time. "but it's mighty queer how my hat ever got over in that clump of bushes. give you my word for it, i ain't stepped that way since we struck here; afraid of snakes, you know, fellers. goes to prove what i told you about _something_ hoverin' around, that we just can't see, and which grabs things belongin' to me every--say, giraffe, what sort of a joke are you playin' on me now; this ain't my hat!" "i--know--it--ain't!" gasped the tall scout, who seemed to have some difficulty in regaining his breath. "it's an old and worn-out thing in the bargain; and see here, it ain't even regulation campaign, because it's off color. there ain't no cord around it either; and my hat's got my badge fastened to it, to tell it from the rest when they get mixed. where'd you get this old thing, anyhow, giraffe?" by now the other had recovered from the shock which he seemed to have received. he was even eager to tell his version of the affair, as his comrades clustered around him. "i saw the hat when i told you i did," he began, in an awed voice; "and all the time i was aspeakin' i kept pushin' my way into the brush, intendin' to snatch up the same, and throw it out to step hen here. the reason i cut short was because, when i grabbed the hat by the rim, and gave a jerk, _i felt a head under it_!" bumpus immediately caught hold of the arm of the scoutmaster. it was not because he was afraid, though bumpus had often been reckoned a bit timid; but the action appeared to inspire him with confidence. he knew that thad would be equal to the emergency. and in times of stress it feels good to be in close touch with one who is going to save the day. thad understood without being told, what it all meant. some spy had been secretly observing the movements of the scouts, hidden in that bunch of brushwood; and when his hat caught the eager eye of giraffe, the latter had supposed of course that it was the missing head-gear. they looked blankly at each other, thad, allan and the other five. then, as if unconsciously, and by mutual consent, they turned their gaze in the direction of the thicket from which step hen had just emerged, bearing the tell-tale stranger hat in his hand. perhaps they expected to see some one rushing away in hot haste, so as not to be caught napping by these young fellows wearing the uniform in use by united states regulars. but nothing seemed to be moving there; at least they caught no sound to indicate that the spy was in full flight at that moment. thad reached out, and took the hat from the trembling hand of step hen; who heaved a sigh of relief upon feeling it leave his clutch; as though a spell might have been broken by the act. one look told the patrol leader that in all probability the hat belonged to a mountaineer. it was indeed old, and had an unusually wide brim. being somewhat of the same color as those worn by the scouts, in the semi-darkness it was no wonder giraffe had made the mistake he did, and reached out for it, under the belief that he had found the missing head-gear of the careless comrade. of course he realized his astonishing mistake the instant his fingers came in contact with a human head that had been held low down, in the expectation that the spying owner might remain undiscovered. thad knew that they were apt to see more of the one to whom that article belonged. sometimes these mountaineers think a good deal of the hats they wear; at least thad knew they clung to them a pretty long time, if the greasy appearance of some he had seen might be taken for an index to the affection they entertained for the felt that sheltered their heads from the summer sun, and the wintry blasts. "well, giraffe, you certainly made a big mistake when you took this hat for the one our chum had lost," remarked thad, in a loud, clear voice, which he hoped would reach the ears of the one in hiding, and bring him forth; "and you owe some sort of an apology to the owner." "but how in the wide world c'n i tell whose hat it is, thad?" expostulated the tall and lanky scout. "thet's all right, younker," said a gruff voice, "i'm the critter as owns thet ere hat; phin dady's my name. reckon ye've heard o' me," and with the words a man stalked into the camp. he was tall and straight, and carried a long repeating rifle. more than that, he had a small face, and piercing eyes like those of a badger. and every scout felt a thrill as he realized that he was face to face with the notorious moonshiner, phin dady, whom the whole united states government had tried for years in vain to capture. chapter xii. an honored guest. the boys looked at the moonshiner, who returned their stares with interest. he seemed utterly indifferent as to whether they chose to receive him either as a friend or a foe. from this thad was almost certain that there must be other fierce mountaineers close by, ready to back up their chief, should he provoke a quarrel with the strange boys in uniform. that fact meant serious trouble for the scouts, if it happened to come to pass. thad knew that these lawless men of the mountains, who snap their fingers at the authority of the courts, and feel safe in the security of their secret fastnesses, deep in the unknown regions back of the trodden trails, think very little of human life. they are usually engaged in some vendetta between rival factions, or families, and blood is frequently shed. understanding how thin was the ice upon which he and his comrades were skating, the patrol leader felt that he could not be too careful how he provoked this man of strong passions to violence. a little to his surprise phin dady wheeled, and faced him directly. but then the mountaineer was gifted with a sharp vision, and he could readily guess which one of the scouts served in the capacity of leader. perhaps there was that in the manner of thad to tell him this fact. or he might have been watching and listening long enough to see how the others all deferred to thad's judgment. "i gut yer letter o. k.," he said, simply. thad's anxious face brightened up instantly; he saw that for the time being the other meant to put aside his hostility. curiosity had supplanted enmity. he wanted to learn more about what that term "boy scouts," used in the message left in the cleft of the stick, might mean. "and i hope you read what we wrote, phin dady?" the boy asked, eagerly. a whimsical smile flashed athwart the thin face of the mountaineer. "as fur me, i ain't much o' a hand ter read, any more'n i am ter write; but thar chanced ter be a feller along as hed sum schoolin'; an' him an' me, we managed ter figger it out. thort as how i'd like ter run up agin ye all, an' larn wat all this hyar bizness consarnin' boy scouts be. heerd tell 'bout sich, but never cud find anythin' but a cold trail. so i kim over ter see ye; an' p'raps now ye'd open up an' 'xplain." "i'll be only too glad to do that, if you'll take a seat at our camp-fire here for a little while, phin dady," thad remarked, making a movement with his hand to indicate where the other could find a comfortable spot to rest. the man looked closely at the speaker; then turned his head, and deliberately made a motion with his hand, that must have been intended for some concealed confederate. after which he stepped over, and took a seat, but not the one thad had indicated as the post of honor. "reckon i'll sit hyar, ef so be it's all ther same ter you-uns," he said, as he dropped down, and swung his rifle across his knees. "yuh see, i likes ter look at everybody w'en i gets ter talkin'. it's more sociable like." but thad knew better. the gleam in those beady eyes told him what the true meaning of this action must be. when a man has been hunted, in and out of season, for the better part of his long life, he naturally become most suspicious of every stranger, young and old. many had been the shrewd games engineered by the revenue men to catch this old weasel asleep. he trusted no one all the way, even his best friends, who might be tempted to betray him because of the reward that was offered for his capture. but although thad had guessed just why the other chose the seat he had taken, it would have been most unwise on his part to have shown any resentment; or even to let phin dady know that he understood. "you see," thad began, simply, "we were warned to be careful before we left asheville, because people said that the fact of our wearing uniforms might make the mountain folks think we had something to do with the army. i was explaining all about what the boy scouts represent to mr. reuben sparks only a short time ago, and he was greatly interested. if you'll listen, then, i'll go back, and tell what we aim to do; and why we have left our homes to take a long hike through a mountainous region, for up where we live we have no such big hills as these." so thad began, and told in as simple language as he could find just what objects were kept in mind among all troops of boy scouts, whether in america, england, australia, south africa, germany, france or any other country on the face of the globe. fortunately thad was a good talker. he knew how to make use of a whole lot of little things in order to arouse the interest of the one who was listening; and he certainly had a subject worthy of his best efforts in this explanation of what the boy scout movement stood for. and the mountain man was deeply interested too. he proved this by the way he hung upon the words of the boy. now and then his suspicious nature would show itself in a cautious look around, as though he wanted to make sure that no shrewd game were being engineered, while the speaker kept his attention engaged. several times he broke in on thad to ask questions. he could not get it through his head, for instance, why boys any more than men, should set about doing all the work that scouts attempt, without pay. in this region of the hookworm, where men never dream of working until driven to it by actual hunger, they think others must be crazy to voluntarily take upon themselves huge tasks that try both brain and muscle. "but sure the gov'ment pays yuh!" he said three separate times, as though he felt positive there must be some secret connection between the boy scout movement, and the authorities at washington; else why should they be wearing the uniform he and his fellow-moonshiners had come to look on as the mark of the oppressor; for several times the army had been called into the field to hunt down the elusive law breakers, who simply vanished utterly from view, and remained in hiding until the raid was over. "not one cent do we get from anybody," thad assured him, positively. "why, even our uniforms have to be bought with money we've each one earned. we're not allowed to accept them as a gift from any man, or any source. so you see, we're under no obligations to anybody." again phin dady asked a series of questions which would indicate that he was at least interested in all thad told him, though possibly he believed only a small part of the whole. when thad repeated to him the twelve cardinal features of a boy scout's vow, taken when he joined a troop, phin shook his head helplessly, as though it were beyond his power of understanding. indeed, that was where the trouble lay; he possessed so shallow a nature that he was utterly unable to grasp the full significance of the scheme. there must be some sort of recompense, in dollars and cents, to make it worth while for any person to do things that called for labor. and that was why he continued to keep his weapon across his knees as he sat and listened, and asked an occasional question. phin dady was not going to be lulled to sleep by any interesting yarn that sounded very "fishy" in his ears. of course, the other scouts had discreetly remained silent while all this was going on. they were content to let thad do the talking, for none of them could equal the patrol leader in explaining what the benefits were, which boys might expect to obtain when they joined a scout patrol. several of them just sat there, and stared in open-mouthed wonder at the man, of whom they had heard more or less lately, and whose defiance of the authorities had been a matter of many years' standing. phin dady might boast of no education whatever; and his knowledge of the world, outside the confines of the big smokies, was doubtless extremely limited; but he did possess what served him far better in the warfare in which he was continually engaged with revenue agents--a natural shrewdness such as the wily fox of the forest shows, and by means of which he outwits his pursuers. "an' yuh kim 'way down this away jest tuh climb the mountings, an' see wot yuh cud do acampin' out without ary tents er blankets, did yuh?" the mountaineer went on, surveying the boyish faces that formed a half circle around him. "wall, i jest reckons ye'll know a heap more by ther time ye gits back ter yer homes'n yuh did w'en yuh started out." he chuckled as he said that. thad wondered whether there could be any hidden meaning back of the words. when dealing with such a slippery customer as this hunted moonshiner, it was always necessary to keep on the watch. the man who always suspected others of double dealing might be in the same class himself. "oh! we're quite sure of that," said the patrol leader, with a pleasant smile. "already those among us who had never climbed a mountain slope before, have had their leg muscles stiffened, and can do better work than in the start. we expect to have a pretty good time all around. and we wrote you that message, phin dady, because we believed you were ordering us out of these mountains under a mistake that we meant to do you, or some of your friends, harm. we want you to feel that we never dreamed of that when we started in here." "then i hopes as how yuh beant changin' o' yer minds sence yuh kim," remarked the moonshiner, just as though he knew what the subject of their recent conversations might have been. before thad could decide just what sort of an answer he ought to make, if any at all, the manner of the other changed as if by magic. his face took on a fierce expression, and he looked along the row of boyish faces by which he was confronted, as though one of them had done something to arouse his hot anger. the click of the hammer of his gun could be heard as his thumb drew it back; and the scouts shrank away in dismay when they saw the flame in his small eyes. "quick! tell me you'uns, whar be the other one? thar was sure eight w'en we counted yuh from the side o' the mounting. an' it mout pay yuh ter 'member thet ole phin, he beant the man ter fool with. eight thar was; whar be the other right now?" and thad realized that the ice was indeed getting desperately thin under their feet at that particular moment. chapter xiii. baiting old phin, the moonshiner. thad himself managed to retain his self-possession under these trying conditions. what he believed he had to fear most of all, was that one of his chums might give the secret away by some ill-advised remark, uttered under the spur of the moment. he knew that they must have shrunk back, appalled, when the moonshiner made such a threatening move, accompanying his fierce words. but for the life of him thad could not tear his eyes away from the face of the man himself. it was just as well. phin dady looked to thad, as the leader of the scouts, for an answer to his demand. had the boy shown any evidences of confusion or weakening just then, it might have confirmed the sudden ugly suspicions that had flashed into the other's mind, and just when he was growing more or less interested in the wonderful stories he had been listening to concerning the aims and ambitions of these uniformed lads. "there are eight of us, just as you say," thad remarked, trying to look surprised at the change of front on the part of his caller; "but the other one, white his name is, has gone to see reuben sparks on business. we expect him back inside of an hour or so. if you'd care to wait you can meet him." his air was so candid, and his face so free from guile that the moonshiner could find no further cause for suspicion. besides, had he not heard in the beginning that the scouts had already made the acquaintance of reuben sparks; who, like himself had displayed more or less interest in their aims and ambitions. phin dady even began to feel a little ashamed of his sudden threatening attitude. the fierce look on his thin face, that with his gleaming wolfish eyes, had made him appear so savage, gradually vanished. it gave way to a rather stupid grin; as though the man realized how silly it was of him to suspect that these half-grown boys could do injury to one who for years had defied all the forces of the united states government. "so, thet's it, younker, is it?" he said; "wall, i'm right glad ye c'd 'xplain ther thing right off'n the reel. course mister sparks, he's int'rested in byes, even ef he beant the father o' any hisself. an' he 'vited yer pal over ter see him, did he, so's ter tell him a heap more?" "he was very much taken with the idea, and showed it by asking a great many questions," thad went on; trying to keep within the lines of the truth, and yet allow the other to draw his own conclusions, to the effect that reuben had given one of the patrol a pressing invitation to call upon him, and continue the interesting recital of the boy scouts' ambitions. "yuh war sayin' right now, thet these hyar byes hain't never 'xpectin' ter be sojers; an' thet they don't kerry arms; air thet a fack?" when the mountaineer made this remark he was looking straight toward the tree, against which rested the shotgun. evidently he was a little in doubt concerning the truth of what the patrol leader had said; or it may have been, wise old phin was desirous of learning just what he and his followers would have to go up against if ever they attacked the camp of the invaders. thad laughed good-naturedly. "that's the only firearm in camp, just at present," he declared. "it belongs to me, you see. we knew there would be little or no hunting on this trip, as the season for protection in north carolina is on. but not wanting to be without some sort of arms, it was decided to carry just one shotgun. later on we expect to spend some time up in maine; and then it'll be all right for us to carry rifles for big game shooting. one of our members comes from maine, and knows all about it up in that region." thad talked at length, because he saw that somehow the sound of his voice seemed to have a soothing effect on the rough mountaineer. evidently phin dady had taken more or less of a fancy to the leader of the scouts. he had known many boys in his day, and perhaps had one or two of his own; but they were like bear cubs in comparison with this frank-faced youth, with the winning smile, and a whole dictionary of words at the tip of his tongue. by now the balance of the boys had managed to recover from their fright. they even began to show an interest in the conversation, though not venturing to say a word unless thad appealed directly to one of them; as he did occasionally, to corroborate something he had declared. it was a scene they would none of them be apt to forget in a long time--this untamed old mountaineer sitting there by their camp-fire, asking questions in connection with a subject that had aroused his keenest curiosity; while they lounged around, listening, and drinking in what was said. would he never go? had he then determined to wait for the return of the eighth scout? perhaps he suspected already the identity of bob quail. this was a matter that gave thad considerable concern, for it meant immediate trouble for their comrade; since the moonshiner might have his old-time enmity for the quail family revived, under the impression that bob's coming meant danger for himself. once allan arose, and stepped outside the circle of firelight. the mountaineer eyed him with just a trifle of the old suspicion apparently rising again; for thad could see a nervous twitch to the brown hands that caressed the stock of the repeating rifle. but if this were so, phin dady must have realized that he could have little or nothing to fear from one stripling of that species; for he immediately relapsed into his former careless attitude. thad could give a pretty good guess what it was that caused allan to walk beyond the camp toward the place from which they had earlier in the evening watched the lights appear in the home of reuben sparks, as well as the few more humble cabins across the little valley. before bob went away he had arranged a series of flash signals, by means of which he could communicate with his comrades of the patrol. they would not have been true boy scouts if they had not before now learned how to wigwag with flags, or lanterns, as well as use a looking-glass in the sun in heliograph telegraphy. and so allan, desirous of ascertaining whether all went well with the absent chum, was now starting out, lantern in hand, to learn whether he could get in communication with bob. possibly some of phin's followers might be in hiding close by, and witness these maneuvers with astonishment, not unmixed with suspicion. thad concluded that it would be best to take the bull by the horns. if he confided in old phin, the other was apt to discount the news when told by his men. "you remember that i told you," he remarked, "how boy scouts are taught to send messages by waving flags, just as they do in real armies; and at night time by means of lighted lanterns. well, we never lose a chance to practice; and the boy you saw go out just now arranged to talk with the one who is across the valley." "huh!" grunted the mountaineer; and from that thad concluded that he had allayed any suspicions that may have arisen in his mind. "if you'd care to see how it's done, why, we can walk out, and watch the scout who has the lantern?" the patrol leader went on to say; though secretly hoping old phin might not evince enough interest to disturb himself. sometimes a bold move serves better than extreme caution. it seemed so in this case, at least, for the moonshiner, after making a slight move, as though to get up, appeared to think better of it, for he settled back again. "i kin understand jest 'bout how it air dun, younker," he said. "now tell me some more 'bout how yuh larn thet thar thing o' savin' a pal thet's been nigh drownded, or else cut a artery in his leg with a ax. i reckon now, that's 'bout the neatest trick i done ever heard on." being brim full of the subject, which always appealed to him more than he could tell, the young patrol leader immediately launched out into a description of the matters that seemed to have deeply interested even this rough old mountaineer. then he went a step further, and told how the scouts entered into the most amusing, as well as profitable, competitions among themselves. he described a water boiling test, where those in competition are given just three matches, and with an empty tin pail in hand, start at a signal to see which one can build his fire, fill his tin vessel at least two-thirds full of water, and have this actually boiling. perhaps that old moonshiner never spent a more interesting hour or so than by the camp-fire of the boy scouts; at any rate he certainly could not look back to one that must have been more profitable to him in every way. finally he arose as if to go; and about the same time allan returned, with the lighted lantern in his hand. "did yuh git him?" asked old phin, with some show of eagerness. "yes, we held quite a little talk, and i guess he must have used up a handful of matches telling me what a pleasant time he had. right now he's on his way to camp, and ought to get here inside of an hour." allan said this as though there could not be anything to conceal. he took a leaf from the example set by thad. the latter knew that in all probability there had been more to the wigwag talk than allan chose to state; but he was willing to wait until a more propitious time to hear it. taken in all, he believed they had come through the operation of baiting phin dady much better than any one could have expected. the old man was interested in what he had heard; and only for the fact that he bore a deadly hatred for the family of young bob quail, they would have little to fear from the king of the moonshiners, whose influence among the other mountaineers was such that he could easily sway them one way or the other at will. thad caught a wink when he looked into the face of the maine boy. it told him that allan had news to tell, which bob had sent on ahead, knowing how anxious his chums would be to hear whether he had met with any measure of success or not in his undertaking. when thad turned around again he found that old phin had slipped away, taking advantage of their attention being directed for a minute toward the scout who had just come into camp with the lantern swinging at his side. and thad heaved a sigh of genuine relief when he found that this was so. chapter xiv. the return of the eighth scout. "he's gone!" exclaimed bumpus; and it would have been hard to tell whether relief or regret lay back of his words; for some of the boys, forgetting the peril that might hang over the head of bob white, did the moonshiner know of his presence, and his mission to the blue ridge, only considered the entertainment afforded by having old phin at their fire. "and i guess the old feller's got enough information in his head to last him a long spell," remarked giraffe. "say, p'raps he's seriously considerin' starting a troop of boy scouts here in the blue ridge country," suggested step hen, who sometimes did have brilliant ideas flash through his brain. there was considerable of a laugh at this proposition, which struck the boys as about as absurd as anything they had heard for a long time. "wonder how our real scoutmaster, dr. philander hobbs'd like to take the job?" chuckled davy jones. "he thought he had trouble enough on his hands when he ran up against a few hard cases, like giraffe and step hen here; but they'd be just pie alongside the strappin' mountain kids we've seen." "well," remarked thad, "you never can tell what might happen. even those boys have got something in them that can be brought out, if only one knows how to go about it. don't you forget, fellows, that some of the greatest men this country has ever known, were born among the mountains. and right now there may be a future president of the united states within ten miles of where we sit." "hear! hear!" cried step hen, pretending to clap his hands in applause. "huh! nearer than that, mebbe," declared bumpus, mysteriously swelling out his chest and looking every inch the hero; "how would the name of cornelius jasper hawtree sound to you? we've never had a president hawtree; but that ain't no reason we never will, is it? tell me that." "give it up," sang out davy jones. "anyhow, it'd sound more distinguished than plain jones," retorted bumpus. "my name isn't plain jones, it's david alexander constantine josephus, and a few more that, to tell the honest truth; i've forgot," the other went on. thad and allan drew apart from all this mimic warfare, in which the fun-loving scouts liked to indulge from time to time. "then you did talk with bob?" asked the former, with some show of eagerness in his voice. "yes," replied allan, "it was great fun too. waited a little while before i could get the first answer to all my waving; but in the end i saw a flash, like a match had been struck, and then we got in touch." "what did bob have to tell?" asked the patrol leader. "he met his little cousin, all right, just as they had arranged," allan went on to say. "and she must have told him something that has made our chum wild with delight, for he says the trip paid him twenty times over. just what it was he didn't try to tell me, saying it would have to keep till he got to camp." "well, we can give a pretty good guess what it must be," thad observed. "you mean that bertha has looked, and made a discovery among the papers in her guardian's safe; is that it, thad?" "just about; but we'll have to quit guessing, and just wait till he comes in," said the scoutmaster, who knew just how to take a grip upon himself, and appear patient, where some of the other boys would have fretted, and worried greatly. "he oughtn't to be more'n an hour, at the most," suggested allan. "not unless something happens to him, which we hope it won't," replied thad. "you don't think now, do you," demanded the other, "that old phin might take a notion to waylay him, just to have a look at the eighth scout?" "i've thought of that, but made up my mind that so far the moonshiner can have no suspicion who bob is. and that being the case, allan, you can see he wouldn't be apt to bother himself to lie in wait for him. i hope not, anyhow. it'd sure upset some of the plans we're trying so hard to fix. and it might spell trouble with a big t for bob." "he's a good fellow, all right," remarked allan, not in the least jealous because his particular chum seemed drawn more than ever toward the southern boy. "that's right," answered thad, quickly; "and we've just got to stand back of him, no matter what happens. i guess that if some of the boys' parents had had even half a suspicion that we'd run up against such a combination as this, they wouldn't have given their consent so easily to our coming!" "i suppose that would have been the case with bumpus and several others," the maine boy went on; "but i've seen so much of this sort of thing up in the pine wood that it isn't new to me. not that it doesn't give me a thrill, all right, whenever i think of what we're doing here, and how we had that man sitting at our fire, the worst moonshiner of the whole blue ridge, i guess. and thad, you did give him a treat, the way you talked. i could see that he took considerable stock in all you said. and you opened his eyes some, believe me, with all the wonderful things you reeled off." "wonderful to him, allan, but the plain every day truth to the rest of us. but i've always heard that there is a spark of good even in the worst man living; and perhaps his weakness for boys may be the soft spot in old phin dady, the moonshiner's heart." they presently went back to the others, and joined in the general conversation, which, quite naturally enough, was pretty much confined to the visit of the mountaineer, what he had spoken about, his suspicions, and above all the strange interest he had taken in thad's account of the boy scout movement. "hello! there!" said a voice; and they saw bob white stalk into camp. one look at the face of the southern boy told thad that he had indeed made a profitable trip, for he saw a smile there, such as had seldom marked it in the past. they quickly made room for him by the fire; while several of the boys scouted around, to make sure that no spies lurked in the undergrowth, listening to all that was said. the fire crackled merrily, and looked very cheerful, as the ring of faces turned inquiringly toward bob white. he knew they were anxious to hear what he had accomplished; and, as there were no longer any secrets to be kept from the balance of the patrol, all having been taken into his confidence, the southern boy hesitated no longer. "i found no trouble getting across the valley," he began; "though once i had to lie low, when two men passed by. from what i heard them say, i knew they were some of the moonshiners, and that they had been ordered to take up positions somewhere, and stand guard. they seemed to be all at sea about the nature of the danger, and yet when old phin gave the alarm, they knew what they had to do." "we ought to tell you in the start, bob," said thad, "that we had phin dady sitting right where you are now; and that he stayed more than a full hour in camp." "yes," broke in bumpus, "and filling up on the stuff thad gave him, all about the heaps of things boy scouts are supposed to do. he liked it, too, sure as you live, old phin did; and we reckon he's got a sneakin' notion of startin' a troop right here, some fine day." bob white appeared to be astonished, and demanded to hear the whole story before he went on with his own experiences. this was presently told, and the one who had been absent at the time looked thoughtful when he heard the conclusion. "it may work for good, who knows?" he remarked, as though speaking to himself. "he's a strange man, is old phin; a hard case in most ways; but p'raps now he has got a soft spot in his flinty old heart for boys. he's a daughter of his own but no sons. and that kind of men generally take to boys best." "if they do, it's because they don't know what boys are like," suggested bumpus. "now go on and tell us what you did," observed thad. "was your cousin at the place you told her about?" "yes, it was a little arbor in the garden that i knew well," remarked bob, tenderly. "she was right glad to see me again, suh; and while she wouldn't tell me all i wanted to know, i'm mighty sure reuben sparks is cruel to her. she has been anything but happy; and always dreamin' of the time when i'd come back to see her, and take her to my mother." "did she do what you asked her?" asked thad, seeing that bob was apt to lose the thread of his narrative in letting his thoughts stray back to his meeting with little bertha, whom he loved like a sister. "she did, suh, took a chance to peep through some of the papers in the safe of mistah sparks; and believe me, she gave me a shock when she said there was one hidden in a little compartment, that seemed to have been signed by her own father. i asked her some more questions, and i'm almost sure that it's a will which reuben sparks kept hidden away, but which something or other has prevented him from destroying these four years and more, since my uncle died." "if you only could get that in your hands, and it turned out to be all you think, seems to me you might do about what you wanted with old reuben," thad remarked. "given another day, and good luck, suh, and i surely expect to have the same in my possession. then i can shape my plans; but one thing sure, my cousin will go back to cranford with me!" and bob smote the palm of his left hand with his doubled right fist, to emphasize his remark. no one seemed a particle sleepy. indeed, they had never been more wide awake in their lives. even davy jones, filled with the spirit of mischief that seemed to take possession of him every once in so often, climbed the tree under which they had built their camp-fire, and swung himself from limb to limb; now with his hands but just as frequently by his toes; as though he wanted to prove the truth of what that learned professor by the name of darwin always declared, that we were descended from a race of monkeys. the rest were lying around in the most comfortable attitudes they could find. "oh! say, come down out of that, davy; you make me tired with your everlasting pranks. take a drop, won't you, please?" called out bumpus. hardly had he spoken than there was a whoop, and davy landed squarely in the middle of the now smouldering fire, sending the brands to the right and to the left in a hurricane of sparks. the seven scouts threw themselves backward to avoid contact with the scattered red embers, while davy scrambled out of his fiery bed with furious alacrity. chapter xv. the flickering torch talk. "put me out! somebody give me a rub down the back! i'm on fire!" nobody doubted davy's excited words, as he danced wildly about, slapping first at a smouldering spark on the right leg of his khaki trousers; and then furiously attacking another burning spot on the sleeve of his coat; only to throw his campaign hat down, and jump on it, under the belief that it was threatened with immediate destruction. some of the other scouts had managed to scramble to their feet about this time; and seeing that they were not in danger themselves, could afford to lend a hand in order to save the garments of the unlucky jones boy. "now your suit's a fine sight!" ejaculated step hen. "perfectly dreadful!" remarked smithy, with a shudder; for to the mind of this member of the patrol, with his ideas of what neatness stood for, no punishment could have exceeded such a catastrophe as the one that had overtaken davy. but after finding that his neck had not been dislocated by his fall; and that, while there would be a few holes here and there about his clothes, they were still fairly presentable, davy only grinned with his customary good nature. "you certain sure _are_ the limit;" declared bumpus, surveying the other with a frown on his rosy face. "better grow a tail, and be done with it. then you could take your monkey-shines to the woods, where they'd be appreciated." "now that's what i call the unkindest cut of all," replied davy. "i leave it to the crowd if i wasn't only obeyin' orders? didn't you call out to me to come down? well, didn't i?" "huh! but you needn't a spilt our fire that way," grumbled bumpus, who however was secretly just as much amused over the affair as any of the rest. "when i say 'come down' you needn't think i mean for you to obey as fast as that. reckon you must a tried some dodge that wasn't as easy as it looked, and you lost your grip." "here's what did it for me," said davy, stooping, and picking up a piece of broken limb, which thad remembered seeing fall at the same time the boy scattered the embers of the fire. "rotten as punk, and went back on me. but don't you believe for a minute because i was hangin' head down right then, i struck that way. easiest thing in the world to turn a flip-flap in the air. i sat down in that fire; that's why my pants got the worst of the burns. and say, do i limp when i walk, because i'm feeling a little sore?" "not much more'n usual," remarked bumpus, cheerfully. this ridiculous adventure on the part of davy set them all to talking again. of course previous efforts in the same line, and, carried out by the same artist, had to be hauled out of their concealment, and made to do duty again, with sundry additions; for what story can there be but what is strengthened every time it is told? so many strange things were taking place all around them that it was little wonder the boys declared they did not feel a bit sleepy, even when the patrol leader told them they ought to lie down and get some rest. "and when everything else fails," declared step hen, "why, davy, here, can always be counted on to furnish music for the band." "yes, waltz music," added giraffe; "anyway, that's what he thought he was giving us, the way he kicked around. p'raps, now, he believed he was doing the turkey trot, all by himself." but to all these taunts davy made no response. truth to tell he seemed to be the sleepiest member of the set, and was seen to yawn numerous times. in this way he managed to start some of the others going, so that by degrees they were all exhibiting evidences of wanting to give up. then there came the job of trying to make themselves fairly comfortable. they had considered this matter before, and settled upon plans for the campaign. there would be no cabin roof over their heads on this night, only the branches of the big tree; but since there seemed little likelihood of rain falling, they did not think they would miss this. it was the bed part that gave them the most trouble. they had scoured the immediate vicinity, and each scout had secured whatever he could lay his hands on in the shape of weeds, or grass, or even small branches from the tree--anything to make the ground seem a bit softer to his body. one liked this spot, while another had entirely different ideas; but coached by allan, who knew all about sleeping out without shelter, they one and all kept their feet toward the fire, because that was the part first affected by the cooling night air. several of them were already stretched out, for while they had arranged a system of sentry duties, allan was to take the first spell. he and thad stood looking at the actions of the other scouts as they moved their rude beds here and there, striving to find spots where there were no roots sticking up, that would poke into their sides or backs. "they're a great bunch, all told!" remarked allan, with a wide smile, as he saw bumpus slily stealing some of the bed of step hen, whose back was toward him, adding it, handfuls at a time, to his own scanty stock. "the finest ever," added thad, warmly. "i don't see how we could have improved on this patrol, if we'd searched through cranford with a fine tooth comb. every one of them has his failings, just as all of us do; but they're as loyal and happy-go-lucky a lot of boys as ever any one knew. and allan, i expect we'll have some glorious times ahead of us, if we go up into maine with you, later on. that hasn't been fully settled yet, you understand; the question of expense has to be met, as well as getting away from our school, if it takes up by the middle of september. but we're all hoping, and pulling for it just as hard as we can." "won't it be great now," allan went on to say, "if bob does find that paper he thinks reuben's been keeping all these years, when he hadn't ought to have let it stay unburned a minute? what d'ye suppose makes a smart scamp like that ever do such a silly thing?" "i couldn't tell you, only i've heard my guardian say more than a few times that the cleverest scoundrel is apt to make a blunder. if that's true then i guess this reuben made his when he kept that paper, just to look at it once in a while, and shake hands with himself over his cuteness." "will you take a little stroll around with me before lying down?" asked allan, who was to have the first watch. "might as well," returned the other, casting a glance over toward the balance of the patrol, still squirming more or less, as they tried to make comfortable nests for themselves. "by that time, perhaps they'll be asleep, and i can drop off without being made to listen to bumpus' complaining, when step hen takes back his stolen goods. come along, then, allan." they first of all walked back along the road in the direction whence they had come to the strange valley where reuben lived, a half-way station between the secret haunts of the moonshiners, and civilization. "what's that up yonder; looks to me like a torch moving?" remarked thad, as he elevated his head, so as to gaze upward, along the face of the mountain. "it _is_ a torch, right you are," allan went on to say; "somebody must be picking his way along among those rocks. i'd think he'd sure need a good light on such a black night as this." "but i guess you're wrong about that," thad added, quickly; "see, he's waving his light, now back, and again forward, just so many times. there, he gives it a downward flash that must mean the end of a word; and then he goes on." "why, to be sure, it's as plain as anything that he's signalling to somebody on the other mountain. yes, thad, look there, and you can see another light move in answer to that first one." "even that don't seem to be all," remarked the patrol leader, seriously. "here's a third light back of us; and upon my word i can see a fourth ever so far off." "looks like all the moonshiners in the mountains might be out in force, and having a jolly old talk among themselves. wonder what they find to talk about?" allan hazarded. "chances are ten to one it's us they're discussing," said thad. "old phin like as not, is giving his orders. thought he grinned a little when i was telling how scouts communicated with each other. he knew all about that, the sly old rascal did; and this has been going on for years and years before boy scouts were ever heard of." "thad, they're all around us; we're surrounded by these moonshiners, with their handy guns; and if old phin says we've got to stay up here in the mountains, why, it's going to be a case of being marooned for us. we don't dare run, because they'd take that for a sure evidence of guilt, and pepper us for all that's out. so, there's nothing to be done but stick it out, seems to me." "well, we ought to be satisfied," remarked thad, grimly. "marooned or not, it was our intention to stay around here until bob had settled those two matters of importance that fetched him down this way." "sure, i'd pretty nigh forgotten that," declared the maine boy, more cheerfully. "so let the mountain men shake their blessed old torches at each other all they choose, and tell how the trap is to be made snug as all get-out; we'll just play the innocent, and try to find out what we want to know. shall we go back to camp now, thad?" "just as you say," returned the other. "nothing more to see out this way. we know that old phin isn't ready to look on us as friends yet. he can't get over the suspicions the sight of our khaki uniforms woke up in his soul. but so far we hadn't ought to complain with the way things have gone. hope it'll keep on to the end; and that our bob will get all he aims for, find his daddy, and take the little girl cousin back to cranford with him." "and if it all goes to the good, say, p'raps we won't have a feather to stick in our hats, all right, thad! we'll never get over talking about this thing. but will it go straight; that's the question?" "you never can tell," replied the other, softly, and encouragingly. "we're going to do our level best; and leave the rest. good-night, allan; wake giraffe at the end of an hour, and caution him to keep a good watch. i come next in line, you know." with these parting words thad stepped softly into camp, glanced at the various forms of the scouts stretched in favorite positions, some even lying on their backs; and then with a smile the patrol leader lay down upon the rude bed he had made for himself, out of such material as offered. in five minutes he was asleep, and forgetful of all the strange events that had marked their strenuous hike into the mountains of the old north state. chapter xvi. climbing the mountain. "hey! what's all this mean; morning, and nobody woke me up, to let me stand my trick at the wheel! i don't think you're treatin' me fair, that's what, fellers!" and bumpus hawtree sat up, rubbing his eyes as he looked around him in wonder. the fact of the matter was it had been decided that they could get on very well without calling on the fat boy to stand sentry duty. most of them knew how unreliable bumpus was when it came to such things, no matter how sincere his desire to please might be; and thad had secretly arranged to leave him out. and so bumpus had not known a single thing of what was going on until, smelling the delightful fumes of boiling coffee, he had opened his eyes to find most of his comrades moving about, and breakfast well on the way, under the supervision of giraffe and allan. "the whole blessed night gone, and me a sleepin' for all get-out," complained the stout member of the patrol, as he climbed to his feet, and stretched. "well, it looks good, anyway. nothin' happened, after all. nobody ain't been kidnapped by the moonshiners, have they, because i can count--what, there don't seem to be only seven here! somebody's gone, and yet i don't miss any familiar face." "oh! you only forgot to count yourself, bumpus," laughed thad. "well, that goes to show how modest i am, you see," chuckled the other, as he started toward the spring to get the sleep out of his eyes by the use of some cold water. "yes, as modest as a spring violet," sang out step hen; "but how about that president cornelius jasper hawtree business? seems to me any feller that hopes to assume that high office ain't so very retiring after all." but bumpus refused to be drawn into any discussion of his merits as a candidate, at least so early in the morning. he came back presently, asking for a towel, which he had forgotten to carry along with him. but as breakfast was announced just about that time, everything else was forgotten in the pleasant task of appeasing their clamorous appetites. while they ate they talked, and many were the schemes invented by some of the ingenious scouts, all looking to the undoing of the enemy, as they chose to consider the combination of reuben sparks and old phin dady. bob asked that they remain over one more night in that camp, and there was not a dissenting voice raised. they were fairly comfortable, and their haversacks still held a certain amount of food; though thad did say some of them ought to go skirmishing in the direction of the houses across the valley, to see if there was a chance for buying fresh eggs; breakfast bacon; salt pork; or even grits, as the finer grade of hominy is universally called throughout the entire south. as for bob and himself, thad had laid out a little campaign for the day. he believed that it might pay them to climb up the side of the mountain. this would be looked upon by any of old phin's followers, should they see the boys, as in keeping with what the patrol leader had told the moonshiner about the doings and ambitions of boy scouts. there need not be anything suspicious about such a move, when thad had time and again declared that one of the main objects of their selecting this part of the country for their hike, had been the desire to climb mountains. as to the benefits to be gained, they could at least have a good birdseye view of the entire region, the queer bowl-shaped little valley, at the further end of which nestled the pretentious house of reuben sparks, and the nearby cabins; as well as the back trail. besides, possibly they might get some sort of information with regard to what the moonshiners were doing. most of these men lived in the little ramshackle cabins they had occasionally passed on the mountain road; where a few hens, a razor-back hog or two, and possibly a slab-sided mule, constituted the sole possessions of the poor whites. but then, others doubtless had homes deeper in the depths of the great elevations that reared their rocky heads heavenward. these were the parties who, like old phin himself, were in demand by the authorities, and who wanted to take as few chances of arrest as possible. no revenue men could very easily come into that well-watched region without the keen eyes of a mountaineer noticing him. and often the crack of a rifle would be the first sign the daring man might have that he was discovered. bob was only too glad of a chance to get off in the company of thad. he wanted to talk over matters with the other very much, and find out just what the patrol leader thought about the situation. so, as they climbed steadily, though slowly, upward, they chatted in low tones. thad had warned his comrade that they must imagine an enemy back of every tree, and act accordingly, so as not to betray themselves by unwise talk. it was rough going. plenty of times they had to pull themselves up by main muscular strength, over some rocky obstruction. then again, perhaps they would have it comparatively easy for a brief interval. "here's a plain trail leading upward," remarked thad, whose eyes had been on the lookout all the time. "suppose we follow it some. chances are it'll be easier going, because whoever lives up here would know the softest road." "that's true," assented bob; "but we'd best not keep on this same trail too long." "why not?" asked the other, looking around at his chum. "you must know that it sure leads, sooner or later, to some hidden cabin of a man who's got some pretty good reason for keeping away from the beaten road." "yes, i guessed that the first thing; and i suppose you mean he'd feel angry some if he saw two fellows in uniform following his trail?" thad suggested. "angry--well, that hardly covers the ground," chuckled bob. "when these mountain men don't like a thing they start to shooting right off the handle. never waste time, suh, in asking questions; they judge things as they see them, and act accordingly. and believe me, thad, when their guns speak, generally something goes down." "well, on the whole i think what you said carries so much weight with me, bob, that i've lost pretty much all interest in this same trail. it don't look near so attractive as it did; and i wouldn't be surprised if we'd make better time just keeping on straight up the face of the old hill." they looked at each other, and laughed softly, as though it was mutually understood what meaning thad intended to convey back of his words. all the same the dangerous beaten track was immediately forsaken, and once more they set out to climb straight upwards. occasionally bob, who seemed more at home in this thing than his companion, as he had lived among the mountains most of his young life; would discover that by taking a side cut they could avoid a hard climb, and in that event the direct line was changed to an oblique one. the view was at times a fine one, with a stretch of the wild country spread out before them like a panorama. then again for a quarter of an hour or more they would be unable to see anything, on account of the formation of the mountainside, or it might be the presence of thick foliage on the small trees growing in profusion all around them. "so far we haven't seen the first sign of a living thing?" remarked thad, when they halted to get their breath. "that's a fact, suh," agreed bob white, "but we mustn't make up our minds that we haven't been followed and watched at all times. these mountain men can climb like goats, suh. it would make you stare to see one of them go up a cliff that neither of us could dream of climbing. they could keep us in sight right along, and believe me, we would never know a thing about it." "i can easily understand that, bob. but it's some wilder up here than ever i believed possible. i saw squirrels in plenty as we came along; some birds flushed from alongside that bank that must have been partridges; and right here's a bunch of feathers, showing where some animal had a fine supper not long since." thad dropped down beside the telltale feathers that marked the end of a game bird, and seemed to be examining the ground. a minute later he looked up. "i'm not as dead sure about this thing as allan would be," thad remarked; "but it doesn't look like fox tracks to me. the claws are too well defined; and i'm of the opinion that it might have been a wildcat, if you happen to have such beasts here in the heart of the blue ridge." "i reckon we do, suh, and mighty fierce fellows too," the southern lad made answer promptly; "i've myself met with one when out hunting, and got him too, though he gave me a heap of trouble; and i was sore from the scratches a whole week or so. no doubt you're right, and it was a cat; though i'm surprised that he ate his catch on the ground, instead of in the crotch of a tree." "perhaps he was too hungry to wait; or the bird tasted so good he just had to pitch in right away," suggested thad, picking up one of the feathers, and sticking it in the cord of his campaign hat, boy fashion. "it's getting pretty nigh dinner time," observed bob, as he felt for the package of food he had thrust into one of his pockets before starting out, upon the suggestion of the patrol leader, who did not know just how long a time they might be gone. "yes, and i suppose we've come up about as far as we ought," thad added, himself feeling the vigorous climb the more because his muscles were not used to anything of that sort. "so, let's drop down right where we are. it's a good enough lunching place. the cat thought so, you can see." they soon settled in comfortable places, each with a tree to lean his back against while he munched the dry sandwiches that had been hurriedly put together, a little potted ham between crackers, with a slice of cheese thrown in for good measure. the sun felt warm overhead, but the atmosphere at this altitude was bracing and refreshing indeed, as mountain air always is. the boys, as they ate, talked incessantly, covering the ground of what they hoped to accomplish, if fortune were only kind enough to favor them, and the moonshiners to allow them to leave the mountains in peace. bob was explaining that after all it might be well for him to divide his mission into two parts, and get bertha disposed of, before thinking of trying to find whether the mysterious prisoner of the moonshiners could really be his dear father, when their conversation was interrupted by a scream from a point close by. the two boys sprang to their feet, and looked at each other blankly. "that was a girl called out, bob!" exclaimed thad. "we can't tell but what it may be a trap of some kind, but that's a chance we've just got to take. come on, and we'll soon see what it means!" chapter xvii. in luck again. bob was quite as eager as his companion to hurry forward and see what that cry of a girl's voice might mean. whoever heard of a southern boy unwilling to act in similar circumstances? the two of them had noted the quarter from whence the shrill scream came, and were making a bee line for it as fast as the rough nature of the ground permitted. "keep back, thar, you ugly critter! don't you dar jump at me! oh! if i could on'y git free, i'd show you!" they heard just beyond the fringe of bushes. bursting through these, and the scene lay before them. it was a girl, a real mountain girl too, who had called out. she was half bent over, as though trying all her might to wrench her foot free, for it seemed to be caught in a crevice of the rock, as in a vise. not ten feet away from her crouched an ugly wildcat. its ears were bent backward toward its body; the yellow eyes seemed to glow with an ugly fire; and there could be no doubt but that the animal was getting ready to jump at the girl, possibly angered by the red sunbonnet she wore. she had managed to pick up a stone, with which she was ready to do battle in case the cat really attacked her. thad saw this, and admired her grit, even though he believed that she would have suffered dreadfully, had the fight ever come off. bob gave a cry of rage as he saw what it all meant. he too snatched up a stone, and made directly for the wildcat, as though such a thing as fear did not enter into his calculations. and thad, a little wiser, seeing an excellent club handy, made out to get that in his grip ere following his chum. despite the coming of these two new enemies the wildcat showed no sign of beating a retreat. there may have been some reason for this unexpected bravery on the animal's part. usually it is only when darkness comes that bobcats are dangerous; and in the daytime they will generally retreat before the coming of human foes. there may have been kittens somewhere close by; and a mother cat will attack anything that moves in defense of her offspring. but just then thad was not bothering himself with trying to understand why the fierce beast acted in that altogether remarkable way. what they wanted to do was to influence the animal to leave the neighborhood, and the quicker this were done the better they would be pleased. "go slow, bob!" thad called out, fearful lest his impulsive comrade dash up so close that in another instant the cat would be upon him, clawing, biting, and doing all manner of damage. he swung his club in as ferocious a manner as he could, and made all sorts of threatening gestures as he rushed forward. thinking that if they approached from two separate quarters the beast might grow more or less confused, and possibly slink away, thad did not follow directly in the track of his friend, but made a little detour. bob came to a pause. he was not more than a dozen feet away from the beast now, and there was danger that if he closed in any more the expected collision must take place. thad saw him draw his arm back. undoubtedly bob meant to hurl the heavy rock he had snatched up. if he missed his aim, he would then be entirely unprotected. but then bob had pitched on a baseball team several seasons, and was said to have a very clever delivery, with the faculty of getting the ball over the rubber with clock-like precision. and a crouching wildcat, only a dozen feet away, is a large enough object to be counted a sure thing by an experienced ball player. so even as thad looked and wondered, he saw bob let drive. and when the rock actually struck the cat between its glaring eyes, hurling it over backwards, thad could not help letting out a yell. "good shot, bob!" he cried. "get another, quick, for he's coming after you like hot cakes!" he himself was closing in on the cat all the time he shouted after this manner. in another moment they were all in a confused bunch, the enraged and wounded wildcat screaming and snarling; thad pounding away every chance he got; bob kicking wildly at the animal, as he looked for a chance to get hold of another stone; and the whole making quite a lively circus. several times thad landed with such a will on the side of the springing wildcat that the wretched beast was knocked clean over. but with a desperation that was simply astonishing it would get together, and come flying back again, as though it really possessed the nine lives its tribe is given credit for. of course this could not last long. the game was too one-sided, with two against one; and in the end the cat was glad to jump into the bushes, with a parting expression of hatred in the form of a snarl. the panting boys stood and looked at each other. each of them had a few rents in their khaki trousers; and might have been served even worse only that their puttees protected the lower part of their limbs. "whew! that was a hot time!" gasped thad. "did you see how many times i bowled the thing over, and only to have to defend myself again? give me a mad wildcat for gameness. they haven't their equal going, pound for pound." "and i hit him when i threw that stone; i'm proud of that shot, suh!" declared the southern boy, with a grim smile. "say, it was a right smart throw, all right; but s'pose yuh come and help me outen this trap now, strangers," came from the mountain girl. as they turned toward her, and advanced, thad saw immediately that she was not the little bertha whom he had looked upon, sitting beside reuben sparks, and with her golden hair, seeming very much like a fairy. this girl was slender, and with coarse, black hair. she was garbed in common homespun clothes, and wore shoes that were doubtless much too large for her feet. one of her ankles had been caught tightly in the crevice of the rock. she might have managed to extricate herself if given a little time; but the sudden appearance of that ugly fighting wildcat had upset her; so that she had twisted and squirmed until her foot was held as though in a blacksmith's vise. bob in his usual impetuous way might have been impelled to tug at that imprisoned foot, and add to her sufferings; but thad, who was cooler, set about discovering just how it was gripped; then, as gently as he could he gave it a sudden turn, and the thing was done. the girl uttered a little scream as a pain shot through her ankle; but then she realized that the way the boy had gone about it was the right one. results count every time. when a man succeeds, the path he has taken is looked upon as a shining example to the rising generation; should he fail, the same route is pointed out as beset with unsurmountable difficulties. "i'm right glad you kim along in time," the girl remarked, as her black eyes scanned the faces of the two boys who had done her such a good turn. "had you done anything to the cat; or was it just crazy for a fight?" asked bob, as he looked more closely at the angular girl; and thad thought he could detect that in his manner to tell he might have recognized her. "'pears like it was jest brim full of scrap, mister," she went on. "i was acomin' down ther side o' the mounting, paying 'tention to my own business, when i jest made er fool o' myself, like ye see, an' gut a foot fast atween the rocks. then the critter showed up, and started makin' a row. i tried all i knowed how to break loose, but it was no go. an' i was jest agwine to hit the animal atween the eyes if it jumped me, when you-uns arriv. but i'm glad ye kim. 'tain't nice to git yuh face all clawed to ribbands by cat's claws. yep, i'm glad ye helped me outen it." thad saw that she was a character, this girl of the blue ridge. rough and uncouth, she might be, still she possessed the qualities that real heroines were once made out of in the days of joan of arc. doubtless she must be the daughter of one of the poor "white trash" mountaineers who spend their time between making moonshine whiskey, and dodging revenue men. it struck thad at the moment that perhaps, since they had been enabled to do her a good turn, she might be willing to assist them. such a girl ought to know a good deal of what was going on back in the mountains. her people must talk about the strange things that happened; perhaps she might be able to even tell bob something about the prisoner who was said to be kept up there somewhere, working at the sour-mash in the never raided still of phin dady. with this bright idea in his mind thad decided that fortune had indeed played another nice trick upon them, and one that would perhaps be to their advantage. "do you live near here; and will you be able to limp home?" he asked; for he saw that the ankle was somewhat swollen, and must pain more or less; although the girl scorned to show it by her manner. "a right smart ways off from heah, stranger," she replied; "but then they be some o' my friends nigh this, who'll take keer o' me. ye did hit up that ere onary cat some handsome, an' i shore think it won't want to tackle a pore gal ther next time it sees one." "perhaps we might help you along to the home of your friends," said thad. she looked at him keenly, for even the daughters of moonshiners grow to be suspicious of those whom they do not know. "'tain't no need, stranger; i kin take keer o' myself, i reckon. not that i ain't feelin' 'bliged to ye, fur offerin'. i kain't furgit thet ye done me a good turn. mebbe i ain't good lookin' like thet leetle cousin o' yours, bob quail; but it's the on'y face i'll ever hev; and no gal likes to be scratched an' gouged bad by the pizen claws o' a wildcat." "will you tell your father about this, polly?" asked bob, excitedly, thad thought. "'pears like i hadn't orter keep it from him," she replied, slowly, watching the expressive and handsome face of the young southerner closely. "thems as don't think phin dady keers fur his fambly, but they don't know. reckons he'd jest 'bout lay down his life fur _me_, pore looker as i am!" thad drew a big breath. really things were rushing forward by leaps and bounds now. for not only had the girl recognized his companion, who wished to keep his identity under cover while in the mountains; but this same polly, as bob called her, had now disclosed herself to be the daughter of the moonshiner, old phin dady! chapter xviii. polly gives her promise. "i'm going to ask you a great favor, polly," said bob, earnestly. "then hit it up right smart, an' tell me," replied the girl, calmly, though thad could see her dark, expressive face light up. polly had her share of the curiosity that is the heritage of her sex. "you say you feel thankful that we happened along in time to drive that cat off; and you'd be willing to do something for us in return?" bob went on. "thet's right, bob quail," returned the girl of the mountains sturdily. "reckons as how it'd on'y be fair. what ye want me to do?" "first of all, please don't whisper it to anybody around here that i have come back," the boy asked in his earnest tones; "and least of all to your father. you know he used to feel right sore against all my family, because my father in trying to do his sworn duty by the government, ran up against the moonshine boys." "oh! thet's easy promised, bob quail," she replied, readily enough; "i kin keep a close tongue atween my teeth, ef i happens to be on'y a gal. but i kin see thet ain't all yer gwine to ask o' me." "but everything else hinges on that, polly," returned bob; "and i'm glad you'll forget that you saw one of the quail family. they're not in any too good odor in this part of the country. now, you're wondering, i reckon, why i ever dared come back, after two years. well, there were reasons that pulled me into the danger zone, polly. one of them was--bertha, my little cousin." polly smirked, and nodded her wise head. "i cud a guessed thet, bob quail," she remarked. "sumbody must a ben tellin' ye thet she ain't as happy as she mout be, thet's it. the old miser, he's cross as a bear with a sore head; an' i seen bertha with red eyes more'n a few times. i don't blame ye 'bout wantin' to do somethin'; though i reckons ye'll find it a up-hill job, w'en ye tackle thet old fox." "but there's a way to get him in a hole, and i believe i've found it," said bob. "only, if i'm chased out of the country before i can carry my plans through, you see, all my coming here wouldn't amount to a row of beans. that's one reason why i asked you to keep my secret. but there's another, polly." "yep, they's another," she repeated after him, with her dark eyes fixed on his face, as though she might be able to read what was passing in his mind, and in this way was prepared to hear his new disclosure. thad knew what his comrade meant to say. it was a big risk, but he believed it could be carried through. this girl was no ordinary creature; she had latent possibilities slumbering beneath the surface in her nature, that, as yet, had never been called upon to show themselves. besides, the girl was grateful to them for what they had done. "you haven't forgotten what happened here some years ago, polly," bob went on. "my father led a party of revenue men into these mountains, meaning to destroy the secret stills. he never came back. those who were with him said that he had been shot down in a fierce fight with the moonshiners; and that he had died almost instantly. you haven't forgotten that terrible time, polly, have you?" "i reckons not," she muttered, stirring uneasily. "well, somehow i never could get myself to believe that my father was really dead. i had one of the revenue men in my pay, and he used to write me every week or so. it was through him i first heard the rumor that the moonshiners were said to have a prisoner up at your father's still, who was kept constantly under guard, and made to work. they even said he was a revenue man; and that it was a part of the moonshiners' revenge to make him help manufacture the mountain dew, so as to pay up for the quantities he had destroyed in his raids. you've heard more or less about this, too, haven't you, polly?" "sure i has, bob quail," replied the girl. "polly, somehow i just can't get it out of my head that this mysterious prisoner of the mountains might be my own father; that he was badly wounded, and not killed in that fight; that the moonshiners nursed him back to health; and ever since he's been kept under guard. do you know if that is so? i ask you to tell me, because it would mean a great deal to me, and to my poor mother at home in the north." polly shook her head in the negative. "i jest can't say as to thet," she answered, soberly; "i done hears a heap 'bout some man as they has kep' a long time up thar, adoin' of the chores, an' never without a gun clost to his head; but i ain't never seed him. i gives ye my word on thet, bob quail." "but polly, you _could_ see him if you tried real hard, couldn't you?" the boy went on, in an anxious tone. she looked at him. the eager expression on poor bob's face would have moved a heart of stone; and polly was surely deeply touched. "i reckons i cud," she answered, steadily; while in her black eyes stole a glow that gave thad a curious feeling; for he began to believe that they had after all come upon an unexpected and valuable ally, right in the household of the chief enemy. "think what it means to me, polly," bob suggested, knowing how best to appeal to her sympathies. "put yourself in my place, and tell me what you would do if it was your own father who was held a prisoner, and you had long believed him dead? do you blame me for coming back to these mountains to try and learn the truth; and if it should turn out to be all i dream it may, of attempting in some way to bring about his release. would you blame me, polly?" "sure i wudn't, bob quail," she replied. "and will you help me find out?" he went on, feverishly. "seein's i owe ye a heap, 'case o' what ye done fur me this day, i'm gwine to say jest what ye wants me to," the girl returned. with an almost inarticulate cry bob seized her hand, and gave it a squeeze. "oh! you don't know how happy you've made me by saying that, polly!" he exclaimed. "and if it _should_ turn out to be my poor father, won't you try and help me get him free? he'll never come back here again to bother your people; i give you my word for that, polly, sure i do. will you help me do it?" "thet's asking a hull lot, bob quail," she muttered, doubtfully, as though she realized the magnitude of the task he would put upon her shoulders. "it's wantin' me to go agin my own dad. if so be thar is a revenue kep' up thar to the still, it's _his_ doin's. an' 'less he gives the word, thar ain't nobody dar's to let that man go free. an' now ye arsk me to play agin my own people. it's a big thing ye want done, bob quail. i dunno; i dunno!" but thad could see she was wavering. he believed that if bob only pressed his point he must win out. "listen, polly," and bob caught hold of her wrist as he spoke, as though to hold her attention better; "more than two long years this man has been held there, the sport and plaything of the moonshiners, and made to do their rough work. it must have broken his spirit sadly. and surely your father's desire for revenge should be wholly satisfied by now. think of my mother, mourning him as dead all this time, polly. just imagine her wonderful joy if he came back to her again alive and in the flesh! oh! don't talk to me about the risks i am running in just coming here; gladly would i put my life in danger ten times over, if i knew there was a chance to find him, and bring him home with me. that is what _you_ would do, polly; and perhaps some day, when sorrow and trouble come to you, i may be able to do you a good turn, even as you are going to do for me now; because something tells me you are, polly!" that settled it. bob had gone about the matter in just the right way to reach the moonshiner's daughter's heart. no doubt she often thought of the black day that might come at any time, when those never sleeping government agents would capture old phin, and he look a long sentence in the face. yes, it would be worth something to know that they had a friend in court when that time rolled around. "yes, i'm agwine to help ye, bob quail," she said, slowly. "i don't jest know yet how far i kin go; but anyways i'll promise to find out who thet prisoner up at the still kin be. then, mebbe i mout think it over, an' reckon as it's jest like ye sez, an' he's shore be'n punished enuff. thet's all i'll tell ye right now." "well, it's mighty fine of you to say as much as that, polly, and i want you to know i appreciate it more than i can tell you," the southern boy went on, his dark handsome face radiant with renewed hope, as his heart beat high in the belief that his loftiest dreams might after all come true. "i hope that foot won't keep you from walking?" thad thought to remark just then. this caused bob to remember that he had a chum near by, and he hastened to say: "this is one of my best friends, thad brewster, polly. we belong to the troop of boy scouts encamped down below. perhaps you have heard your father speak of them? he was in our camp more than an hour last night, and my chum here seemed to interest him a heap in telling all about what scouts aim to do in the world." "yep, i heerd 'bout hit," the girl replied, as she gave thad a short nod; "an' he shore was takin' sum stock in wat he done heerd. my dad, he allers liked boys better'n he did gals. lost three on 'em, he did, an' every one died with his boots on! but ye needn't git skeered 'bout this hyar foot ahurtin' me none. we knows what kin' o' stuff to put on a sprain, as'll take ther swellin' down right smart. see, i kin walk jest as good as i ever cud. an' i'll find out fur ye 'bout thet man up to the still, sure i will, bob." "when can i see you again, polly?" bob asked, anxiously. "you know time is worth a heap to me right now. say soon, please; sometime to-night, if you can; and it'll help a lot. i'll never be able to sleep a wink now till i know the truth." "mout as well put her through on ther lightnin' express as not," she replied. "i reckons i kin promise ye to-night. an' i knows whar yer camp lays, 'case i arsked my dad. thort i mout happen thet way, an' see what boys looked like as was dressed in smart close. it's gwine to be a hard job, seems like, an' mebbe i carn't git 'roun' till late, but i'll be thar, bob quail! ye done ther right thing by me, an' polly dady don't forgit." then turning her back on the two boys, the mountain girl swung herself along the rough face of the hillside with a perfect confidence in her ability to keep her footing that only a chamois might have exceeded. and thad, looking at his chum, saw that the other's face was wreathed in a smile such as had long been a stranger there. "the best day's work i ever did, thad!" exclaimed bob, as he seized his chum's hand, and squeezed it convulsively. "something just tells me polly is going to be my good fairy, and bring me the greatest gift that ever could be--the knowledge that my dear father lives." chapter xix. the silent vidette. "shall we go back the same way we came up?" asked thad, as they made a start toward returning to the camp down below. "i think i'd like to try another route," bob replied. "some of those places we hit were pretty tough climbing; and you know it's always harder going down, than up a mountain. seems to me we'll strike an easier way over to the right here." "my opinion exactly," thad declared, ready to fall in with anything which the other proposed, because he was interested heart and soul in the work bob had cut out for himself--trying to bring more of happiness into the life of little bertha, his cousin; and finding out whether his long-lost father was still in the land of the living. they had gone about half of the way, and found that, just as bob guessed, it was much easier than the other route would have proven, when thad made a discovery that gave him a little thrill. "there's a man, bob!" he exclaimed, suddenly. "where?" demanded the other, turning his head around; for he happened to be a trifle in advance of his companion at the time. "over yonder, on that rock, and of course with a rifle in sight; for you never see one of these mountaineers without that. i wouldn't be surprised to hear that some of them go to bed with their guns in their arms. do you see him now, bob?" "yes, and can understand why he's sitting there like that," replied the other, rather bitterly. "looks like he might have a touch of the fever and ague, and that with a spell of the shakes on, he wanted to sun himself," suggested thad; though he knew full well the true explanation was along other lines entirely. "he's doing sentry duty," remarked bob, soberly. "you can see, thad, that from where he lies he has a splendid view of the road we came over?" "that's a fact, and could even toss a rock down on it if he chose," continued the patrol leader. "i understood that, bob, and can guess why he was placed there by old phin dady." "i suppose they're all around us," remarked the southern boy, "and as i said last night, they've sure got us marooned, all right. we can't move without they're knowing it. oh! what sort of chance would i have to get him out of this awful country, even if it should turn out to be my father who is the prisoner of the moonshiners? thad, i reckon it's a forlorn hope after all." "well," remarked the other, seeing that bob needed cheering up again, "even if you only discover that he is alive, that will be great news alone. and when things get to coming your way the style they've been doing lately, believe me, you can hope for the best. keep your spirits up, bob. that girl is going to help us more than we ever dreamed of." "it _was_ great luck, our running across polly; and then the chance to do her a favor, could you beat it? reckon you're right, thad; and i'm foolish for letting myself look at the dark side, when things are breaking so splendidly for me." "that fellow doesn't seem to pay much attention to us, though i'm sure he knows we're going to pass him by," thad continued, in a lower voice. "i used to know a good many of the men around here, and this might be one of the lot; so i hadn't better take any chances of his seeing me too close in the daylight," and with this remark bob drew the brim of his hat lower over his face. the man never so much as moved, though the two descending boys passed within thirty feet of where he reclined on the rock, his face turned toward the road that wound in and out of the tangle far below. thad believed he could see a pair of sharp eyes under the man's hat, that kept watch over their movements; but there was no hail, or other sign of life from that sphinx-like figure stretched out at length on the sunny rock. should they have given the mountaineer cause for displaying any activity, no doubt he would be quick to take action. thad certainly did not want to strike up a conversation with so morose a man; and especially when his chum wished to keep aloof from him. so they continued along down the side of the mountain, and soon lost sight of the vidette. still, the circumstance left a bad feeling behind. it was far from pleasant for the boys to realize how completely they had put themselves in the power of these mountain moonshiners. just as bob had so bitterly declared, old phin ruled with an iron hand among the men who lived here among the uplifts; and once he had placed sentries on duty to watch the movements of the scouts, they could neither go forward nor retreat, unless that gaunt moonshiner crooked his finger. "i don't see how it can be done," bob broke out later, as they began to draw near the camp again; as though he had been wrestling with some subject, and reached a point where he needed counsel. "as what?" inquired his comrade. "work both ends of the affair at the same time," continued bob. "suppose, now, i find that the paper bertha has seen is the very one i've been hoping to get my hands on; and she comes to me to-night; how can i carry her away, and at the same time stay here to find out about the news polly will bring me?" "now, i'm glad you spoke of that, bob," thad declared; "because i've been trying to puzzle out that same thing myself. and i really believe i've hit the only answer." "then let me hear it, for goodness sake, please!" exclaimed the other, in a relieved tone; for he well knew that when thad brewster said a thing that way, he must feel pretty confident he had the right solution in hand. "just as you say, it would be next to impossible to take bertha away from here, and at the same time carry out your plans in connection with that other business. that is of the first importance, it seems to me, bob. this other about bertha can wait some, if it comes to it." "yes, it could, i suppose," admitted the other, slowly. "bertha is unhappy she says, and he treats her wretchedly; but then he is not really cruel to her. tell me your plan, thad, and i'll be ready to stand by it." "suppose, then, she brings you that paper, and it turns out to be all you hope for? you can take it away with you, and when we get back to asheville place it in the hands of some reliable lawyer, who will have reuben summoned to court with the girl. then she will never be allowed to go back with him again; and he may consider himself lucky if he gets off without being sent to jail for having withheld a lawful document, and replacing it with a false will, or one that was older." bob uttered a cry of delight. "it sure takes you to think up an answer to every hard, knotty problem, thad," he cried. "that is just the best thing ever, and i'm willing to try it. why, for me to take the law in my hands would be silly, when the courts will save me all the risk. and while i hate to disappoint poor little bertha, who believes i'm down here to carry her off, in spite of old reuben, she'll understand, and be willing to wait a bit. thank you over and over again, thad. i'm feeling a thousand per cent better, suh, after what you said." "and about the other thing, bob, i wouldn't let myself believe too strongly that this mysterious prisoner of the moonshiners will turn out to be your father. there were some other revenue men who have disappeared in the last few years, men who started into the mountains to learn things, and never came out again. it might be one of these after all. and i guess you'd be awfully disappointed if you set too much store on that thing." "i keep trying all i know how not to hope _too_ much, thad," replied the other, with a big sigh; "and tellin' myself that it would be too great news; yet, seems like there was a little bird nestlin' away down in here, that goes on singin' all the while, singin' like a mockingbird that brings good news," and bob laid a trembling hand on his breast in the region of his heart, as he spoke. "well," said thad, warmly, "i'm just hoping that everything'll come out the way you want, old fellow. we're going to back you up the best we know how; and if we fail to do what we aim for, it won't be from lack of trying." "i know that, and i'll never, never forget it as long as i live!" declared the other, almost choking in his emotion. "there's the camp," remarked thad, five minutes later, "and everything seems to be going along all right at the old stand. i can see step hen lying on his back, with his hat over his eyes as if he might be taking a nap; smithy is of course brushing his coat, because he has discovered some specks of dust on it that worry him; and if you look at giraffe, you'll know what he's up to when i tell you he's whittling at a piece of pine, to beat the band." "getting kindling ready to start up the fire, when supper time comes around," said bob, with a chuckle, as though some of these familiar sights began to do him good, in that they served to take his thoughts away from the things that distressed and worried him. when the two scouts arrived in camp they were immediately surrounded by their comrades, who demanded to know what they had seen and done. to judge from the variety of questions that showered upon them, one might think that thad and bob had been off on a regular foraging expedition, and scouring the upper regions in search of adventures. and indeed, they did have something to tell that made the others stare. the several little holes in their clothes, evidently made by sharp claws, gave evidence as to the truth of their wonderful story. and all of the stay-at-homes united in the fervent hope that polly dady might be grateful enough to bring bob the news he yearned to possess. several of the boys had been dispatched to the cabins across the valley, where they managed to purchase some dozens of eggs, but could get no bacon. they did secure a couple of fowls, however, which were even then plucked, and ready for the pot. as evening settled down soon afterward, the scouts prepared to make themselves as comfortable as the circumstances allowed. and certainly not one among them so much as dreamed that other peculiar events were on the calendar; ready to take their places upon the stage; and advance the interests of the fellow scout, whose yearning to look again on the familiar scenes of his younger years had influenced the others to hike through the blue ridge range. chapter xx. the awakening of step hen. "say fellers, did anybody see that----" step hen had just managed to get that far in what he was about to say, when he was rudely interrupted by a combined shout from giraffe, davy jones, and bumpus. "don't you dare accuse us of taking any of your old traps, step hen!" said the last named scout, severely. "we're sure gettin' awful tired of that war cry," declared giraffe. "it's always this thing or that he's lost, and never by his own fault at all. a sly little jinx is hoverin' around, ready to grab up a thing just as soon as step lays it down. still, i notice that every single time, it turns out he put it there himself. get a new tune for a change, step hen, and ring it on us." "by the way," remarked smithy, who was very polite, and never joined in the loud and boisterous jeers that greeted some break on the part of a comrade; "what fresh misfortune has overtaken you now, step hen?" "oh!" replied the other, with a broad grin, "when our funny friends broke in on me that way, i was only going to ask if any of you wide-awake scouts had noticed that i had my badge turned right-side up, early this morning?" there was a general laugh at this, even the three culprits joining in. among all boy scouts, it has become the proper wrinkle to turn the badge upside down to start the day; and the wearer has no right to change its position until he has done an actual good deed toward some one else; or even helped an animal that was in distress. many are the expedients resorted to, in order to gain this privilege; for it is deemed in bad taste to spend the entire day with the badge reversed on the lapel of the coat. a thousand ways can be found whereby the boy may feel that he has a right to alter the position of his badge, and prove that he had done something of a kindly nature, that is a credit to his character. an old woman may be helped across the street; a heavy basket carried for a child; a box that is trying the strength of a single man may be made easier to lift into a wagon by a pair of sturdy, willing hands; the harness that is galling the shoulder of a horse can be rendered less troublesome if a rag is doubled up, and fastened to the leather--well, the list of things that wide-awake scouts find in order to gain this privilege would really seem to be without end. so all the others now turned toward step hen, with curiosity expressed on their faces; for they seemed to guess that it could be no ordinary explanation that he meant to give them. "what wonderful stunt did you manage to carry through so early in the day, down in this forsaken country?" demanded giraffe. bumpus looked forlornly at his own badge, that still hung to his coat lapel in its reversed position; showing that he, at least, had not been able to discover any means of doing a good turn to some object, however humble; in fact, he had, like most of the other boys, entirely forgotten about the usual programme. there were no old ladies to help down here; no errands to run for mother; no problems to solve for little brother; nothing but the everlasting mountains rising grimly all about them, and silence lying on the scene like a great blanket. "i reckon i'm the only one in the bunch that's been smart enough to get his badge turned to-day," chuckled step hen, proudly exhibiting the article in question; "and i'd just like the fun of hearing all of you try and guess how i managed it; but then, i know you'd never hit on the truth in a thousand years; and so i s'pose i'll have to up and tell you." "oh! wake me up, somebody, when he gets really started," groaned giraffe; "of all the slow-pokes, step hen takes the cake." "i'll tell you," began the other, with a sly look toward the speaker, as though he purposely delayed his disclosure in order to annoy the impatient giraffe; "you see, it was this way, fellows. i happened to be walking out along the back road just after we'd done breakfast. thought i'd dropped my handkerchief somewhere, but afterwards i found it inside my hat, you know." "sure, it's always that way," muttered giraffe, who lay with his eyes closed, but drinking in all that was said. "well," continued step hen, "all at once i noticed something that interested me a whole lot. there was one of them queer little tumble-bugs you always see ashovin' round balls along the road, an' goin' somewhere that nobody ever yet found out. this critter was tryin' like all possessed to push his ball up a steep little place in the road. sometimes he'd get her close to the top, and then lose his grip; when it'd roll all the way back again. "say, boys, that insect's pluck interested me a heap, now, i'm tellin' you. right there i got one of the best lessons a scout ever picked up in all his life; which was the old story, 'if at first you don't succeed, try, try again.' and he kept on tryin' again and again. i must a stayed there all of half an hour, just watchin' that game little critter pushin' his ball up against the hardest luck ever. and then, when i just couldn't stand it any longer i took bug and ball in my hand, and put 'em both up on top of that rise. and after that i thought i had a right to turn my badge right-side up!" the scouts looked at each other. somehow, they did not laugh, though surely it must have been one of the queerest reasons ever advanced by a fellow-scout, as an excuse for wearing his badge honorably. despite its grotesque nature, there was also something rather pathetic about the thought of step hen, only a careless, half-grown lad at best, spending a whole lot of time, simply watching an humble but game little beetle trying to fight against hard luck, and almost as interested in the outcome as the wretched bug itself. "how about that, mr. scoutmaster; is step entitled to wear his badge that way, on account of helping that silly little bug climb his mountain?" asked davy, turning to thad; but though his words might seem to indicate a touch of scorn, there was certainly nothing of the sort in his manner. thad himself had been amused, and deeply interested, in step hen's recital. only too well did he know what a careless and indifferent fellow the boy had ordinarily been classed, both at school and at home. seldom, if ever, had he paid the least attention to things that were happening all around him, and which might appeal to the sympathies of boys who were made of finer grain than step hen. and now, it seemed that something had been making an insidious change inside the scout; when he could feel such intense interest in so trivial a thing as the pluck of an obscure tumble-bug. time was when step hen would have cared little whether or not he came down with his heel upon such an object, which ought to know better than get in his path. it was different now, since step hen had joined the scouts. his eyes had been opened to many things, the existence of which he had never dreamed in those other days. and he could never again be the same indifferent fellow; he must go on advancing along the trail that led to a better knowledge of nature's great secrets; and above all else, the capacity that lay within his own heart for understanding these myriads of small but wonderful things. "i'm not going to answer that question myself, davy," said thad, with a smile. "fact is, i'd much rather have the candid opinion of every scout on the subject. so i'm going to put it to a vote, here and now; and i want you to be serious about it, small matter though it may seem; for upon such things rests the very foundations of the whole boy scout movement--observing, understanding, appreciating." "whew!" muttered giraffe, "and all this fuss about one little tumble-bug!" "those who really and truly think step hen had a full right to turn his badge right side up for the interest he took in that game little creature's struggle to overcome what seemed unsurmountable difficulties, and for lending a helping hand in the end, raise the right hand," and thad put his up for a starter. not counting step hen himself, there were just seven fellows present when thad asked them to show their colors. and including the scoutmaster himself, just seven instantly raised a hand. thad laughed softly. it gave him more pleasure than he could tell to see that the boys understood the motive that had swayed their comrade. and doubtless this vote of confidence would urge step hen to go along the path he had discovered, with ever-increasing confidence, as its charms continued to be revealed in ever-increasing proportions day by day. a new world would soon open up to his inquiring eyes. he would find ten thousand things of tremendous interest all around him, to which he had up to now been as blind as a bat. never again would he feel alone, even though no comrade were at his side; for he could discover innumerable objects about him at any time, calculated to chain his attention. "seems to be unanimous, fellows," remarked thad; "and i hereby publicly commend our comrade, step hen, for his action of this morning. yes, he did have a right to turn his badge. it was not so much _what_ he did, as the feeling he showed in, first of all, stopping to watch the bug; second, getting tremendously interested in its never-give-up spirit; third, in applying the principal to himself; and last but not least, his desire to lend a helping hand. for step hen, boys, this has been a day that some time later on in life, he will mark with a white stone; for he has begun to notice things. and with the fever on him, he'll have to keep on noticing, until he'll think it's not the same old world at all but one filled at every turn with splendid discoveries. i know, because i've been through the same thing myself." "hurrah!" said giraffe, who had been considerably impressed by what the scoutmaster had said. "what did i tell you, fellows, about not missing dr. philander hobbs, our regular scoutmaster, on this hike? d'ye think now, he could have said all that one-half as good as thad did? i guess not. and step hen, i'm ashamed to say that the whole blessed day has gone by without my ever thinking to do something good for another feller, so i could turn my badge over. there she rests; and i give you all fair notice that to-morrow i'm going to start in right away to get it moving." "plenty of time to-night yet, giraffe," piped up davy. "i happen to know a fellow who thinks a certain knife you own would look mighty fine in his pocket, if only you'd take the trade he offers. now, if you made him happy, p'raps you'd have the right to turn your badge; and he c'd do ditto, making it a killing of two birds with one stone. better think it over, giraffe." the tall boy looked at davy with a frown, and shook his head. "'tain't fair to put it up to me that way, davy," he declared, obstinately. "you just know i don't want to trade, the least bit. now, if you'd say, that on the whole you'd concluded to quit botherin' me, that would be a good deed, and i reckon you'd ought to have the right to turn your badge." at this ingenious return thrust davy subsided, with a grin, and a general laugh arose from the other scouts. but if most of the boys were merry, there was one who looked sober enough. of course this was bob quail. he knew what a tremendous undertaking he had before him, and the results seemed so uncertain that it was only natural he should feel the heavy weight resting upon his young shoulders. first of all, he must meet his cousin, bertha, and learn what success had followed her efforts to discover whether the paper she had seen by accident in her guardian's safe was the missing document which bob believed reuben had abstracted, placing another in its place. then, later on, he had that appointment with polly, the moonshiner's daughter, who was to bring him news concerning the mysterious prisoner. yes, bob certainly had quite enough on his young mind to make him anything but jovial. still, he had been more or less interested in what was going on around him, for he was, after all, a boy. they were eating supper, as they chatted in this way. night had settled down on the scene. it promised to be a pretty dark night at that, thad realized, as he looked around him, and then up at the heavens, where a few stars held forth, but gave very little light. it was fortunate that bob happened to be so well acquainted around that vicinity otherwise he would never have been able to cross to the other side of the strange little basin which they called a valley, without carrying a lantern; and this in itself must be out of the question, since its light would betray him. while they were eating, they heard a gunshot not far away. "wow! what d'ye think that means?" exclaimed giraffe, jumping to his feet, and looking off in the gloom toward the back trail. "seemed to me like it came from down that way, eh, boys." "it sure did," announced davy jones, positively. "and it was a gun in the bargain, with a big load. what d'ye s'pose they could find to shoot at in the dark?" demanded step hen. "oh! lots of things," replied allan. "if a bobcat jumped in on us right now, we'd think of using our gun, wouldn't we? but it might be that shot was some sort of signal, after all." "there wasn't any answer, that's sure," interposed bumpus. "but seems to me i can hear somebody talking pretty loud that way," observed the listening thad. "i did too," declared smithy; "but it's died away now, as though the excitement might be over. i wonder what it was, fellows?" "chances are, we'll never know," returned giraffe, settling back once more to continue eating, for he was not yet through. "lots of queer things are happening all around us, that we'll never know," remarked step hen, seriously. thad looked at him curiously. this was a strange remark to come from the happy-go-lucky step hen. it looked as though his one little experience of that morning had indeed done wonders toward causing the careless lad to turn over a new leaf. he was beginning to _think_, and see what a great big world this is after all. his horizon had been moved back hugely since he first yawned, and stretched, that same morning. and the queer part of it was that no one thought to joke the boy about his altered disposition. they seemed to understand that it was no joking matter. doubtless step hen's reformation would not be accomplished in a day, nor a week, nor even a month; but he had taken the first step, and from now on must begin to arouse himself to making a good use of the faculties with which a kindly nature had endowed him. "listen!" exclaimed thad, a little while later, just as they were about done supper. "i heard somebody talking, too!" declared davy jones; while allan showed by his manner that the sounds had surely come to his acute hearing, trained by long service in the piney woods of his native state. "they're comin' this way, too; i c'n hear 'em pushin' through the bushes, and stumblin' along too." bumpus declared, in an awed tone; looking a trifle worried, and wishing thad would only snatch up that gun, lying against the tree trunk, which the other did not seem at all anxious to do. the voices drew steadily nearer, as the boys stood and listened. "hyar's a fire, nate; we gut ter git him thar, sure's anything. i tell yuh he'll never be able tuh walk 'crost tuh the doc's cabin. he'll bleed tuh death long 'foah we gits thar with 'im. steady now, cliff; hyah's a light, an' we kin see how bad yuh is hurt!" then, while the scouts stood and stared in amazement, a group of three men staggered into view, two of them assisting the third, whose faltering steps showed that he must have been injured, even if the arm that dangled helplessly at his side had not told the tale of a serious gunshot wound! no wonder that the boy scouts felt a thrill as they watched these rough mountaineers enter their camp in this strange way. chapter xxi. "be prepared!" "whee!" it was bumpus who gave utterance to this exclamation, though possibly he hardly realized, himself, that he was saying anything, as he stood there, and gaped at the sight of the wounded mountaineer being helped along into their camp. but if bumpus, and some of the others, were spell-bound by what they saw, gazing as though fascinated at the blood dripping from the man's fingers, thad brewster was not included in this group. he had long ago picked up a smattering of knowledge connected with a surgeon's duties; and ever since taking up the new life of a boy scout, those things which concerned the saving of human life had somehow appealed to young thad with redoubled force. more than once now had he been called upon to show what he knew along these lines. a boy had been severely cut by an ax he was carelessly wielding in camp; and might have bled to death only for the energetic actions of thad, who knew just how to secure a stout bandanna handkerchief around above the wound, with the knot pressing on the artery; and making a tourniquet by passing a stick through the folds of the rude bandage, twist until the bleeding was temporarily stopped, and the boy could be taken to a doctor. another time it had been a case of near drowning, when thad, who had learned his lesson well, succeeded in exercising the lad's arms, after laying him on his chest and pressing his knee upon him, until he had started the lungs to working. in that case every one of the other scouts declared that only for these prompt applications of scout knowledge the unfortunate one would surely have died. and so, when he saw that the man who was being thus supported into their camp had been shot in the arm, and was in danger of bleeding to death, the surgeon instinct in thad brewster came immediately to the surface. he never once thought about the fact that the man was very probably one of those very lawless moonshiners, whose presence all around had virtually marooned himself and chums in the heart of the mountains. he was a man, and in trouble; and perhaps thad could be of some help! and so the generous-hearted boy sprang forward, eager to lend a hand. "bring him right up to the fire, men!" he exclaimed. "what happened to him? was he shot? we heard a gun go off a little while ago, and wondered what it meant." the two men urged their injured companion forward. he seemed to have little mind of his own in the matter; though thad could see that he had his jaws set, and was apparently determined to betray no sign of weakness in this terrible hour. the customary grit of the north carolina mountaineer was there, without fail. it showed in the clenched hand, the grim look on his weather-beaten face, as well as in those tightly closed teeth. "yep, 'twar an accident," almost fiercely replied one of the men, whom thad now recognized as the fellow whom they had met driving the vehicle that bob declared had kegs of the illicit mountain dew hidden under the straw--nate busby. "we was walkin' thro' ther woods w'en a twig cort the trigger o' my gun, and she hit cliff in the arm, makin' a bad hurt. reckons as how he never kin hold out till we-uns git him acrost ter ther doc's cabin." "you could, if we managed to stop that bleeding," said thad, eagerly. "bring him over here, and let me take a look, men. i've done a little something that way. and perhaps you don't know it; but all boy scouts are taught how to shut off the flow of blood. there, set him down, and help me get his coat off. there's no time to lose." "nope, thar's sure no time tuh lose," muttered the wretched nate, who was undoubtedly feeling very keenly the fact that it had been _his_ gun that had been discharged through accident, causing all this trouble; and that if the man died, his relatives might even want to hold the unlucky owner of that weapon to account for his carelessness, inexcusable in one who had been mountain born and bred. they sat the wounded man down as gently as though he had been a babe; after which nate assisted thad to take the ragged coat off. some of the scouts crowded close, though with white faces; for the sight of blood is always enough to send a cold chill to the hearts of those unaccustomed to the spectacle. but allan was an exception; and strangely enough, there was smithy, whom no one would ever have expected to show the least bit of nerve, evidently ready to lend the amateur surgeon a helping hand, if he called for recruits. it often takes a sudden emergency call like this to show what is under the veneered surface of a boy. smithy had always been deemed rather effeminate; yet here he could stand a sight that sent the cold shivers chasing up and down the spines of such fellows as giraffe, davy jones, and step hen, and almost completely upset poor bumpus. "get me one of those stout bandages i brought along, allan, please," said thad, when he could see what the terrible nature of the wound was; "you know where they are. and smithy, will you hand me that stick yonder?" in a brief space of time the several articles were at the service of the boy, who first of all made a good-sized knot in the handkerchief, after wrapping it around the man's arm _above_ the wound; and then, inserting the stout stick, he began twisting the same vigorously. it must have pained tremendously, but not a whimper, not a semblance of a groan did they hear from the bearded lips of the wounded mountaineer. indeed, he seemed to arouse himself sufficiently to watch the confident operations of the young surgeon with a rising curiosity; and thad thought he could detect a slight smile on his dark face. as for nate and the other rough man, they stared as though unable to believe their eyes, to thus see a mere boy so wonderfully able to do what was necessary in a case of life and death. every little movement did they follow with wrapt attention. no doubt, a great relief had already commenced to rise up in the heart of nate, as hope again took hold upon him. if the other survived the shock, and loss of blood, it would not be so bad; and trouble might not come home to him on account of his liability for the accident. thad soon knew that he had done the right thing. the knot had been properly placed, so that the pressure upon the artery above the wound prevented any more blood being pumped that way by the excited action of the man's heart. "there," he remarked, in a satisfied way, "i guess we've got the bleeding held up, and you can get him to a doctor, if, as you say, there is one across the valley. i'm going to bind this stick so it can't come loose while you're helping him along. but if it should, perhaps you've seen how i did the job, and you could fix it up again?" "sure," replied nate; "and yuh dun it ther neatest i ever knowed, younker. reckon as how cliff dorie an' me has reason tuh be glad yuh happened tuh be so clost. if so be he lives thru hit, as he will now, dead sartin, he's gwine tuh owe his life tuh yer." thad happened to catch a glimpse of bob's face just then, as the other turned toward him; for up to now he had been keeping rather aloof, not wishing to be noticed by either of the mountain men. he was surprised to see the expression of suddenly renewed hope that seemed to have taken up its abiding place there. apparently the southern boy had made a pleasing discovery, which of course thad could only guess at, until he had found a chance to speak to his comrade. but he understood readily enough that it must concern the coming of the three men, and the fact of the scouts being enabled to place them under obligations. with the flow of blood stopped, the wounded man seemed to gather new energy. he no doubt felt that he had at least a fair chance to pull through. he started to get on his feet, seeing which thad immediately offered his hand to help him; and the mountaineer's horny palm was confidently thrust into his much smaller one; as though, after what miracle he had already seen the lad perform, the man were willing to trust him in anything. yes. fortune had again been kind to the scouts; only in this instance it had not been a case of searching for chances to do good; the opportunity had come knocking at their very door, so that all that was necessary was for them to _be prepared_, just as the scout's motto signifies, and then do the best they knew how. again did the two men take hold of their stricken companion. before they quit the vicinity of the fire, however, the man named nate busby turned and shook hands all around. evidently he was grateful for the assistance rendered. to his mind this first aid to the injured meant a whole lot; and while he did not say a single word, his action was enough to show what he thought. then the group departed, heading toward the other side of the valley, where, in one of the humble cabins, some sort of mountain doctor was to be found, rude in his way, no doubt, but perfectly capable of attending to a gunshot wound; for these doubtless constituted the bulk of calls that were made upon his services. when they had gone the scouts began to discuss the queer happening, and compare notes as to which one of them had shown the least alarm. bob quail came directly over to where allan and thad were standing, just as the latter had expected he would do. that expression of eager anticipation still shone upon his dark face, and his eyes fairly glowed with satisfaction. "well, will wonders ever stop happening?" he said, as he reached the others. "did you hear what nate called the wounded man, thad, allan?" "yes, it was cliff dorie. and i guess you've heard it before, judging from the way you act?" observed the scoutmaster. "talk about luck, why, we're just swimming neck deep in it, suh!" the other continued. "i thought he looked a little like somebody i'd known befoah; and when i heard that name, i knew it; why, cliff dorie is the brother of old phin's wife!" "fine!" exclaimed allan, with a broad smile. "i should say, yes," bob went on, eagerly; "seems as though we were just bound to put the whole dady family in our debt. there was old phin himself, who felt so interested in all you told him about the boy scout movement; then there was polly, who might have had her face badly scratched, not to mention other wounds, if we hadn't just happened to get there in time to chase that savage mother bobcat off. and now you've gone and saved the life of polly's own uncle. oh! p'raps, suh, we won't have to get into any fuss at all about that prisoner of the still; p'raps old phin might feel that we'd done his family enough good to change his mind about keepin' that revenue man up there any longer, aworkin' his life out; and let him go away with us, if he promised never to tell anything he'd learned. and let me say to you both, i'm feelin' somethin' right here, inside, that seems to tell me it's going to be all right, all right!" and bob repeated those last two words softly, caressingly, as though they meant everything in the wide world to him. chapter xxii. when bob came back. the other boys of course shared in bob's deep feeling of satisfaction. perhaps he might be expecting too much from the old mountaineer; but then, bob had lived among these people during a good portion of his life, and ought to be able to judge as to the amount of gratitude they were capable of feeling. "but you ought to be off across the valley yourself, bob," ventured thad, presently. "i know it, suh," the southern lad replied, quickly; "and let me tell you i'm starting right now in better spirits than i ever dreamed would be the case. i want to get back heah in good time, so as to go up yondah with you, and meet polly." "if you're not too much played out," suggested allan. bob drew his figure up proudly, as he went on to say: "i'd have to be mighty nigh a collapse, suh, let me tell you, to keep from goin' to where i've got a chance to hear about _him_!" and they did not need to be told who was meant, for they knew bob was thinking of his missing father, whom everybody had long believed to be surely dead. and so he presently vanished, with a farewell wave of the hand. the other scouts gathered around the fire, chatting on various subjects, but principally in connection with the recent happening. they thought it the strangest thing in the world how two girls came to play a part in the affair which their good comrade, bob quail, was trying to put through; and of such vastly different types too, the one a plain mountain maid, and the other, according to what they themselves had seen, quite a dainty little thing, cultured and refined. "smithy, i'm going to tell you to reverse that badge of yours," said the scoutmaster, as they sat there around the fire, waiting for the return of the absent comrade. smithy looked up in surprise. he had been smoothing his coat sleeve after a peculiar habit he had, as though he imagined he had discovered some dust there. and for the moment he fancied that thad must be joking him on account of those "finicky" ways, as giraffe called them, which he could not wholly throw aside, since extreme neatness had long ago become a part of his very nature. "that's very kind of you, thad," he remarked, trying to appear calm; "and i'm sure i feel grateful for the privilege, which should always be a matter of pride i take it, with every boy scout. but i am not aware, sir, just how i've gained the right to reverse my badge." "by handing me that stick when i asked for it, and thereby becoming a partner with me in assisting that wounded man. you notice that i'm turning my own badge, because i think i've earned it by this act, if i didn't by what bob and myself did to that bobcat. and allan, you're in this deal also; you brought me that roll of stout muslin when i wanted it, so you did all you could." "and i helped get him on his feet!" declared giraffe, quickly. "so did i!" exclaimed bumpus, excitedly; "anyhow, i started to lend a hand; but there was so many around i just got crowded out. but i _wanted_ to do something, sure i did, thad!" "turn your badge, then," ordered the scoutmaster, smiling. "in fact, every scout was full of sympathy, and ready to assist if called on. and under the circumstances, i just guess there needn't be any badge in this camp unturned right now. to-morrow we'll start fresh again, and let's see how quick all of us can follow after step hen's example, and help some worthy object along." "even if it is only a poor little tumble-bug that can't push his ball home," remarked giraffe, with a grin. the time hung heavily upon their hands. no doubt this was partly caused by their intense eagerness to learn just how bob was coming out. would bertha meet him; or might she have been shut up in the house by her guardian, stern reuben sparks? if she did come, would she bring that paper which she said was signed with her dead father's name; and supposing it proved to be all bob hoped and prayed it would, was it possible, if placed in the hands of a competent lawyer in asheville, that this document would take bertha from the custody of reuben, and give her a home with bob's mother up in cranford? all these things were debated from every standpoint; and wide-awake boys can see the weak links in the chain about as quickly as any one; so that thad was kept busy explaining, and building up plans to suit the altered conditions. "ought to be time he was here," giraffe remarked, as he stifled a huge yawn. "it's sure nearly a whole hour since we heard that row across there," bumpus went on to say. "seemed like a whole crowd had started to yell, and dogs to bark. we none of us could make up our minds what it meant. some thought the wounded man must a got to the cabins, an' all that noise meant the kind of reception a brave feller gets in these parts when he's brought home on a shutter. but others, they seemed to b'lieve it might have had to do with our chum bob, and that p'raps he'd been surrounded, and trapped by the wise old reuben." "we hope not, for a fact," declared thad. "well, there's somebody coming right now, i give you my word!" observed smithy, who happened to be on the windward side of the fire, and able to hear better than some of the rest. "and from the right direction, too," added allan. the patter of footsteps came closer, and presently a dim figure loomed up, almost staggering. "it's bob, all right!" cried bumpus; and thad heaved a sigh of relief, for he had begun to fear that something might have happened to disturb the carefully laid plans of his companion. the southern boy came into camp, breathing heavily. he seemed to be very much exhausted, but thad could detect a look of triumph on his face that seemed to tell of something worth while having been accomplished. dropping down, bob motioned for a drink of water, and step hen made haste to get him one from the collapsible bucket they had brought along with them. draining the tin cup, bob sighed as though the cooling liquid went just to the right spot, and had refreshed him wonderfully. "it's all right, thad!" he managed to say, noticing the questioning look that the other was bending upon him. "then you saw your cousin, and got the paper?" asked the scoutmaster, eagerly, while the rest of the boys fairly hung upon every word. bob nodded his head. "get my breath right soon now," he remarked; "then tell you all about it. phew! i had a smart run, believe me!" the boys exchanged expressive looks. they drew their own conclusions from the little bob had already dropped; and began to believe that he must have been hotly pursued. evidently then, if this were indeed the case, bob had met with an adventure since leaving the camp-fire, and a serious one at that. it is always a difficult thing for the ordinary boy to restrain his impatience, and several of the scouts squirmed about uneasily while bob was trying to calm himself down, so that he might talk with reasonable comfort. thad let him have his own time. he understood that bob was even more anxious to tell, than any of them were to hear; and that just as quickly as he could, he was sure to start in. that time came presently, when his heart began to beat less violently; and as a consequence bob started to breathe more naturally. "i met bertha," he began to say, "and she gave me the paper. boys, it's everything i hoped it'd be; and once i manage to get it in the hands of a good lawyer, good-bye to mr. reuben sparks' authority over little bertha, and her fortune." "wow! that's going some!" burst out giraffe, rubbing his thin hands one over the other, as though decidedly pleased by the news. "was she disappointed when you told her how impossible it would be for us to take her away right now, when these moonshiners have got us marooned up here in their blessed old mountains; and we can't turn whichever way without runnin' slap up against a sentry with his old gun?" asked bumpus. "that's right, she _was_ upset when i told her that same," answered the other. "it made me feel right bad too, suh, to see how she took it; and i tell you right now i came mighty neah givin' in, and sayin' we'd make a try. but i remembered what thad heah had told me, and how it was best for all of us that we let the cou'ts summon old reuben to bring bertha before the bar of justice. an' finally, after i'd explained it all to her, she began to see it the same way. my cousin has got the spirit of the quails all right, i tell you, fellows, even if she is young and little." "i reckon you stayed so long tryin' to convince her, bob, that you clean forgot how you'd promised to get back here as soon as you could?" remarked step hen, under the belief, no doubt, that he was giving the other a sly dig. "well, perhaps you are correct about that same, suh," replied bob, quite unabashed; "she was like most girls, and had to be argued into seeing things like boys see 'em. of course, i couldn't break away till she had arranged to go back to the house, and wait for things to begin to move, as they surely would, just as soon as i get to asheville. but there was one real smart thing she did do, and i've just got to tell you about that befo' i come to my own adventure." "that's right, don't skip anything, old chum," remarked giraffe, warmly, as he settled down to listen. "when bertha took that document from the little pigeonhole in the safe where he had it hidden, she thought to make up another as much like it as she could, and put that in place of the one she carried off. some of you scouts ought to take pattern from the smartness of that little girl; don't you think so, thad?" and bob turned his now smiling face upon the patrol leader. "they couldn't improve very much on that sort of work," thad declared; "and if girls were allowed to join our troop i'd vote every time to let your cousin come in. i'm sure she'd be an honor to any organization." "now tell us what happened to you, bob!" asked bumpus. "well," continued the other, drawing a long breath as though what he was about to say stirred him once more; "i was just ready to say good-bye, when we heard loud voices, together with the barking of a big dog, and old reuben, with a man, and a mastiff about hip-high burst into view, both men carrying lanterns, and heavy sticks in their hands. and you can believe me, fellows, i understood that i was in for a little excitement about that time!" chapter xxiii. a climb in the dark. "that's where you had ought to have had our gun, bob," remarked giraffe, as the other paused for a moment, to recover his breath before going on with his exacting recital. "i was about of that opinion myself, suh," the other continued; "and i reckon that if such had been the case, there would have been one less mastiff in the world right now. but after all, it's well i didn't take the weapon. things would have gone different from what they did; and i have no fault to find, suh, not a bit." "but what did you do; don't tell us you beat a big dog runnin'?" demanded bumpus, incredulously. "i am not so foolish as to want you to believe that sort of stuff, suh," replied the southern boy, stiffly. "i doubt very much if there is a man living, even the winner of the great world marathon, who could have outrun that hound. fortunately i didn't have to depend on my heels altogether, to escape being bitten by his fangs. there chanced to be another way out of the hole." "say, i guess _she_ had a hand in it!" suggested giraffe. "go up to the head, suh," remarked bob, with a smile; "because that is just what did come about. old reuben, he must have managed to catch sight of some one, even if he wasn't nigh enough to tell that i was dressed in the uniform of a scout. he up and sicked the dog on me; and i reckon it wouldn't have mattered one bit to that cold-blooded old man if the ugly beast had torn me badly." "and was you arunnin' like fun all the while?" asked step hen. "i believe i was making pretty fast time, suh, considerin' that the bushes in the garden interfered with my sprinting. but that dog would have caught up with me befo' i ever could have climbed the high fence, only for a thing that happened. first thing i knew i heard bertha calling at the top of her little voice to the mastiff. and i reckon now that ajax, he must have been more used to mindin' the crook of her little finger than he was the orders of old reuben. fo', believe me, suh, he just gave over chasin' after me, and went, and began to fawnin' on her hand." "great stuff!" declared bumpus. "say, i c'n just think i see that old rube prancin' around there, orderin' ajex on to grab you, an' gettin' madder'n madder when the wise dog just utterly declined to obey. i always heard that the sun c'd force a feller to take his coat off, when the wind made a dead fizzle out of the job. kindness goes further with some animals than fear does." "hear! hear! words of wisdom dropping like pearls of great price from the lips of our comrade, bumpus!" cried giraffe. "but they're true, every word, all right," affirmed the stout scout, firmly. "i kept on running for two reasons," bob went on to explain. "in the first place, i didn't know but what the dog might be forced to alter his ways, and start out after me. then again, p'raps that man with old reuben might be coming, licketty-split after me; and i want you to believe i didn't mean to be caught, with that valuable paper in my pocket at that." "so you made pretty warm time of it over here, eh?" remarked davy jones, who had remained quiet for some time, being deeply impressed by this story which the other was giving them. "i never let up for two minutes at a time all the way across," admitted bob, in a satisfied tone. "of course i had a few tumbles, but i reckon there was none of 'em serious; leastways i didn't get bruised, or tear my clothes. and now that i've got my breath back again, it's time we thought of starting out; because there's heaps mo' that's got to be done before we c'n call a rest." "yes, a great deal," admitted thad, who, however, was well pleased with the outcome thus far; "and after you've lain here about ten minutes or so, bob, we'll see whether you feel able to take that other climb. if you don't why, allan here could go in your place." "and do just as well, i have no doubt, suh," added bob; "but thank you, i shall surely be able to take my part in that climb. if you gave the word right now you'd see me spring to my feet, and start; because there's every reason in the world to spur me on. who wouldn't make an extra effort for that?" the hour had grown late, since they had waited much beyond the appointed time for the return of the messenger who had gone to meet bertha. but thad knew they still had an abundance of time to get to the place arranged with polly, before midnight, which had been the hour set for their meeting. "now, if you feel refreshed, we'll make a start, bob," remarked the scoutmaster, after a bit. the other was on his feet instantly, and he gave not the slightest sign of weariness at that. "let me have just one more cup of that fine water," he remarked, "and then i'm in fine fettle for business. if this second job only turns out as handsome as that other, this'll sure be the happiest night ever. but i hope that reuben does not lay his hand on my cousin for what has happened this night. if he does, he'll suffer for it, as sure as my name's bob quail." "you don't really think he'd go as far as to strike her, do you?" asked thad, to whom the very idea seemed abhorrent. "i don't just know how far a man of his stripe would go if made very furious, suh. to tell you the truth, i didn't want to run at all; but bertha insisted on my doing the same. she said nothing was going to happen to injure her; and that if i was caught, with that paper in my possession, she never would have the least chance to get away. and that was all that made me run, believe me, suh." thad took his shotgun along with him; and noticing the queer look giraffe gave him, he condescended to explain. "don't believe for a minute that i expect to make use of this on some moonshiner," he said, earnestly, yet with a trace of a smile lurking about the corners of his mouth. "the mission of boy scouts is more to bind up, than to give wounds; though they are allowed to do this other in extreme cases, where some person's life may be in danger. but you remember, we ran across a nasty bobcat up yonder once before; and if so be she happens to be laying for us, i'd like to be prepared for trouble. a scout should never go around with a chip on his shoulder looking for trouble; but if it finds him out, why, he's just _got_ to defend himself. that's the way i look at it; and most others do too. come on, bob, if you're ready." when the two boys quitted camp bob was walking as sprucely as ever. if he still felt the effects of his long run he knew how to conceal the fact in the finest way--giraffe, bumpus, step hen, smithy, and davy jones believed they had ever seen. only allan, being experienced in such things, could see that bob was laboring under a heavy strain, and had his teeth tightly clenched; though the body might be weak, it was an indomitable spirit that urged him on. between them the two boys had noted things when coming down the mountain that afternoon, and in this way picked out the course they expected to take on that same night. it was rough enough, especially when they had to do their climbing in the dark; since carrying a lighted lantern would be foolhardy in the extreme. bob's impatience took him in the lead most of the time. thad cautioned his impetuous companion in low whispers several times; and yet, knowing what the motive was that drew bob along in such feverish haste, he could hardly blame him. at the same time he knew the danger of making a false step when they happened to be close to the brink of some steep descent, down which a roll meant instant death, or at least broken bones. as they climbed upwards they would pause every little while to get a new supply of energy, as well as recover their breath. and at such times both boys eagerly scanned the black gulf that lay below them. it had not taken their keen eyes long to discover several lights that seemed to move in eccentric circles and other movements. nor was either of them at a loss to understand what this implied. "the moonshiner videttes are having another talk," bob remarked, as they sat and watched several lights carrying on in this weird fashion. "seems like it," said thad, thoughtfully. "i wonder now, what is being carried along the lines? it'd be a great stunt, thad, if we could read the signs, and listen to the talk, wouldn't it? p'raps now we'd learn something to our advantage," the southern lad went on, longingly. "well, as we haven't got the code book," laughed the scoutmaster, "that would be a pretty hard job, i take it." "but still," bob continued, with a shade of entreaty in his voice that was hard to resist, "i take it that you could give a guess that would come pretty nigh the truth, if you cared to try, thad." "well, i don't know about that," replied the other scout; and then adding, as he realized that bob was grieved: "i'm willing enough to make a try, if you think it would pay. let's see, first of all, where these fellows are located who are doing all this communicating." "there's one on the side of the mountain over yonder," declared bob; "then that's a second fellow across the valley; you can see his lantern or torch dipping every which way; now he's stopped, as if he'd been asking more questions. and thad, seems to me, the one that's doing the heft of the jabbering is located down yonder. like as not the information's coming from him." "that's across the valley, bob?" remarked thad. "you're correct, suh; somewhere neah the place from which i was chased away not more than two hours back. that's where the cabins lie." "and that's where nate and the other mountain man took cliff dorie," continued the scoutmaster. "now, you can put things together yourself, if only you think, bob. don't you see that nate is probably telling these other fellows all about what happened to cliff. and i certainly do hope he doesn't forget to give us our due in the matter, for it would go a great way toward making these rough men our friends. you know only too well what that would mean, bob. friends with phin dady just now might be the means of giving you back your father." bob sighed heavily as he started on again, urged by a desire to come upon polly as soon as possible, and learn the truth, no matter whether the news proved a disappointment, or not. but in his haste he forgot the caution thad was trying always to instill in his mind; for stumbling presently, he found himself toppling over an unknown abyss that lay in the darkness, so that its extent could not be seen. thad had kept very close to his heels, and was prepared for something like this, so that he acted from impulse, there being not a second to give to thinking. chapter xxiv. the clock in the sky. "oh! thad!" bob unconsciously gave utterance to this low, bubbling cry as he felt the ground slipping from under him, and his eyes looking down into an inky void. then something clutched hold of him, and his downward progress was stayed. thad had shot out a hand, and grasped his chum by one of his legs, at the same time bracing himself for the shock. this he did in the twinkling of an eye, dropping his gun, and with that hand laying hold of a sapling that, fortunately, chanced to be within easy reach. "careful, don't kick more than you can help, bob," he remarked, as coolly as he possibly could, though a sensation akin to horror swept over him immediately he had acted. "i've got a good grip on you, and my other hand is holding on to a stout little sapling, so we just can't go down. now work yourself back, inch by inch, as well as you can. yo-heave-o! here you come! another try, bob! that gave us quite some distance. ready to make it again? why, this is easy. here you are now, altogether boys, with a will!" and after half a dozen of these concerted pulls and backward movements, bob found that he had reached a spot where he could take care of himself. "whew! that was what i call a close call!" he muttered. "i wonder, now, just how far down i'd have had to go, if you hadn't been clever enough to grab me just in time?" "we're not going to bother our heads about that, bob," replied the other, quickly; "only please go a bit slower. we won't make any time, if we have to stop, and go through that circus stunt every little while. and bob, it might happen that i'd lose my grip, and either let you go down, or there'd be two of us take the drop. does it pay to try and make speed at such a terrible risk?" "you're right, just like you always are, thad," replied the hasty and now penitent one; "and i'm sure a fool for taking chances that way. here, you go up ahead, and set the pace. that's the only way we can fix it; because, like as not inside of five minutes i'd be rushing along again for all i'm worth." "perhaps that would be the best plan," thad observed, with a chuckle. "i thought of it, but didn't want to make you feel that i distrusted your leadership. and i want to say right now that it isn't that makes me take the lead, only because you are so excited that you're not fit to judge things right." "but don't let's waste any more precious time, thad. polly might have gotten to the place ahead of us, you know. oh! wouldn't i be sore if she got tired of waiting, and went back home." "all the same," thad remarked, confidently, "i don't think polly would ever do such a mean thing as that. she understands just how crazy you are to know, and she's right now putting herself in your place. no, polly will wait up for us, make your mind easy on that, bob. i wish i was as sure that we'd get there, safe and sound." "oh! i'm done with my capers, mind you, thad," returned bob, eagerly. "since you've taken the lead, there's no chance for us to go pitching over a precipice. when they catch a weasel asleep, and no mortal man ever did that, i've heard, they'll hear of thad brewster making a fool move." "it's nice of you to say that, anyway, bob; i only wish i deserved the compliment you pay me. but we'd better talk less, and get on a little faster." and after thad had given this gentle little hint the conversation lagged; bob realized that it was really no time to carry on any sort of talk; and that when they could not tell what dangers might be close around them in that inky darkness, they would be far wiser to keep a padlock on their lips. each time they stopped they again saw the signal lights flashing out here and there across the way, or below. they seemed like giant fireflies, striving to free themselves from some invisible bonds. but the boys knew very well what it meant, and that the moonshiners of the blue ridge were holding an animated fire talk. they met no animal on the way, which thad thought was a piece of good luck. even though he did carry his faithful little marlin, which could send a powerful charge of shot a long distance; and close in, serve all the purposes of a big bore rifle, or musket, all the same, thad was not desirous of meeting with any new and thrilling adventure. such things were all very nice after they had passed along, and one sat comfortably by a camp-fire, relating the circumstance; but while in process of action they were apt to bring a cold chill along in their train, not at all comfortable. "it must be after the time we set, isn't it, thad?" bob finally asked, in a low voice, when they rested again. the scoutmaster could not look at his little cheap but reliable watch without striking a match; and there was really no necessity for doing that. it made very little difference whether they were ahead, or somewhat behind the hour arranged for their meeting with polly. and besides, there were other ways of telling time pretty accurately, without even having a watch along. thad glanced up into the heavens. he had often studied the bright worlds and suns to be seen there, and knew considerable about the positions they occupied, changing, it might be, with the coming and going of the seasons. "it's just close on to midnight, bob," he observed, presently. of course bob was at once interested. "you're saying that because of the stars, thad," he remarked. "please tell me how you managed to tell." "it's like this," the scoutmaster replied, not averse to pointing a lesson that might be seed sown in fertile ground; "notice those three rather small stars in the northeast, all in a line and pointing downward? well, those are what they call the belt of orion, the hunter. they point nearly direct down to a mighty bright blue star that you see there, twinkling like everything." "yes, i've often noticed that, and i reckon it must be a planet near as big as venus or jupiter," remarked the other boy. thad laughed. "well," he remarked, "i guess now you'd think me crazy if i told you just how far that same star is away from us right now, ever so many times further than either of the planets you speak of. why, bob, that's sirius, the dog star, said to be the biggest sun known to astronomers. our little sun wouldn't make a spot beside that terrible monster; which may be the central sun, around which all the other tens of thousands revolve everlastingly." "oh! yes, i've heard of the dog star, but never reckoned it amounted to anything in particular," declared the southern lad, interested, in spite of the anxiety that was gnawing at his heart all the while; "but suppose you go on, suh, and explain to me how you can tell the time of night by consulting the dog star. you sure have got me to guessing." "nothing could be easier, if only you'd put your mind to it, and think, bob?" continued the patrol leader. "these stars and planets rise at a certain hour every night. it grows later all the while, and many of them are not seen only half of the year, because they are above us in the daytime the rest of the twelve months. now suppose you had watched that star, as i did last night, and knew just when it crept above that mountain ridge over yonder; you'd have a line on when it could be expected to come up to-night. now do you see?" "well, it's as simple as two and two make four," replied bob. "and so that's the way old hunters tell the time at night, do they? reading the clock in the sky, you might call it, thad. i'm sure going to remember all about that; and later on, when my mind's at rest, i'll ask you a heap more questions about these things. they get more and more interesting the deeper you dip in; ain't that so, thad?" "i've found it that way," replied the scout leader, quietly. "a fellow who keeps his eyes and ears open can almost hear the stars whispering together, they say; and as to the secrets the wind tells to the trees in passing, why that's easy to understand. but if you're rested by now, bob, we'd better be on the move once more." only too willingly did bob agree. he believed that they must by this time be very nearly up to the point where polly had agreed to meet them. she had asked bob if he remembered the place; and he in return had declared he could easily find it, even in the darkness of night; for often had he climbed the face of this ridge when he lived close by; for at the time, his father had owned the very place where old reuben sparks now had his home, the miser having purchased it from mrs. quail upon her moving north with her son. "keep on the lookout for three oak trees growing close together, thad," he said, presently. "it's always been a landmark around here, because any one can see it from the valley, you know. i reckon, now, we must be close by the same; and i'd hate to miss it in the dark. it's been some time since i was up here, and i'm apt to get mixed a bit." "well, i think you've done mighty well so far; because, unless my eyes deceive me, there's the place right ahead of us," thad declared. "you're right about that," bob added, feverishly; "that's the place of the three mountain oaks; and they stand out against the sky, now we've changed our position. oh! i'm beginning to shake all over, thad, i'm that anxious. what if polly shouldn't be on hand? perhaps she just couldn't learn anything, after all, and will only come to tell me she did her best; but they keep the still guarded too close, and she couldn't get close in. there's a dozen, yes, twenty things that might come up to upset my hopes. they don't seem so strong, thad, now that we've got to the point." "well, i wouldn't let myself get in any sort of gloom about it yet, anyway, bob. time enough to cry after the milk is spilt. here we are at the oaks, and we'll wait for polly to come, if she's late; but i'm dead certain she'll keep her word with you. when a girl like polly says she'll do a thing, you can just make up your mind she will, unless the heavens fall." "that's right peart o' you, suh," said a soft voice close by; and they heard a rustling sound, as though some one might be coming out from amidst the dense foliage just beyond the three oaks. "here's polly, be'n awaitin' this half hour fur you-uns to kim along. an' she's agettin' right sleepy, let me tell yuh." thad felt his chum quivering with eagerness as the mountain girl made her way carefully down to where they awaited her coming. what sort of news polly could be bringing neither of them could so much as guess; but it would not be long now ere bob knew the best, or the worst. chapter xxv. bob gets his reward. nearer came the rustling. they could not yet see polly, on account of the darkness, but the sound of her voice had reassured them. presently a moving figure crept close up to the waiting boys; which they knew must be the queer mountain girl. polly was far from dainty looking; she had coarse black hair that possibly seldom knew a comb; and her voice was rather harsh; but nevertheless thad believed she had a heart under this forbidding exterior, and that the spirit of gratitude was transforming her, greatly to their advantage. "i'm right glad yuh kim, even if 'twar late," she said, as she reached their side. "we started as soon as we could, polly," said bob, wondering if the girl really felt hurt because she had been kept waiting. "you see, i had to cross the valley, and talk with my cousin, bertha. it was very important that i should see her, for she had news to give me, news that we hope will end in taking her away from that cruel old miser, and giving her over to the keeping of my own dear mother." polly grunted, as though she felt that she had to exhibit some sign of displeasure; but she said no more on that subject. "i done found the still," she remarked, simply. "that's good, polly," bob said, warmly. "caus i'd be'n thar afore, but 'twas a long time ago," she went on, as if in apology for any difficulty she may have run across in finding the secret workshop of her father. "yes," bob went on, encouragingly, as she stopped. "yuh see, they don't want gals er wimen ahangin' 'round thar. an' ever since they begun ter keep a prisoner ter work ther mash, i reckons as how never one hes be'n up ter thet place." "but you hadn't forgotten just how to get there, had you, polly; you knew the old trail, even with its changes; and did they have a prisoner; or was it just a story that's been going around all this time?" bob's impatience could not hold back any longer. he felt that he must know the truth with regard to this fact, right away. if there was no prisoner after all, then hope must sink out of sight. on the other hand, should polly say that she had discovered a guard, and a patient working figure kept in restraint for long, weary months, he might still hug that fond illusion to his heart, that it might yet turn out to be his own father. "yep, i gut thar, even if they had hid the trail right smart," the girl continued, "an' sure 'nuff, thar war a prisoner!" "oh!" said bob, and thad could feel him quiver again with eagerness. the girl was slow, not because she wished to tantalize bob, but simply on account of her sluggish nature. the hook-worm has a firm grip upon most of the "poor whites" of north carolina, as well as in tennessee and georgia close at hand. it would take something out of the common to arouse polly; a sudden peril perhaps; or the anticipation of a new dress, which latter could not be an event occurring in less than yearly stages, thad had thought. "an' he war a man," polly went on, dreamily; "jest like yuh thought, bob; but his hair hed growed so long, and thar was so much beard on his face, i jest reckons his own mother wudn't never a knowed 'im." "but did you get close enough to him to say a single word, polly--just to ask him who he was?" the boy demanded, faintly. thad unconsciously let his arm glide around the figure of his chum. he seemed to fear the result, no matter what the answer of the mountain girl might be. "sure i did. thet's what i went up thar fur, ain't it?" polly went on to say. "they hed him chained ter ther rock. i reckons thar mout a be'n a guard alongside, sum o' ther time; but right then he must a be'n away. so arter peekin' around, an' not seein' any critter astandin' sentry, i jest mosied up clost ter ther man, an' touched him on ther arm." she paused again, as if to collect her thoughts, and then yawned; but it was only through habit, and not because polly felt sleepy; far from it, she was seldom more wide-awake than just then, though it was hard for thad to believe it. "he looked kinder s'prised tuh see me, 'cause like i done tole yuh, gals, they ain't never be'n 'lowed 'round thar, sense he was took. in course i tole him as how i jest kim ter fin' out who he mout be, 'case thar was somebody as 'peared mighty wantin' ter know thet same." "and did he tell you; could he speak still, and explain?" asked bob. "he shore cud, bob," she replied, a little more earnestly now, as though she realized that the critical point of her narrative had been reached. "i never'd a knowed him, wid all ther hair on his face; but when he says his name it was shore enuff--" and she paused dramatically. "my father?" gasped bob. "yep, an' no other then mistah quail, as used ter be ther marshal o' this deestrict sum years ago,--yer own dad, bob!" thad tightened his grip upon his chum, for he felt him quivering violently. it was a tremendous shock, since, for more than two years now, bob and his mother had been forced to believe the one they loved so dearly must be dead; but they say that joy never kills, and presently bob was able to command his voice again. "oh! you'll never know what that means to me, polly!" he exclaimed, as he groped around until he had found the girl's hand, which doubtless he pressed warmly in his great gratitude. "to think that my poor father has been alive all this time, and a slave up here in the wild mountains, while mother and i have been enjoying all the comforts and luxuries of our home. it just seems to cut me to the heart. but polly, you talked with him, didn't you?" "shore i did. he done tole me he mout a got free a long time ago, if he'd 'greed ter promise my dad never ter tell whar ther ole still war hid; an' never ter kim inter ther mountings agin ahuntin' moonshine stuff. but he sez as how, sense he still must be in ther employ o' ther gov'nment, he's bound ter do his duty; an' not in er thousand years wud he change his mind." "oh! that is jest like father," murmured the boy, partly in admiration, yet with a touch of genuine grief in his voice, because of the unnecessary suffering they had all endured on account of this stubborn trait on the part of the one-time marshal. "i tells him thet all ther same, he wa'n't agwine ter stay thar much longer, it didn't matter whether he guv ther promise er not, 'case thar hed be'n a change. an' then i ups an' tells him 'bout yer bein' hyar in ther mountings, bound ter larn ef he was erlive." "yes, and was he pleased when he heard that, polly?" asked bob, who was gradually coming around in fine shape, now that the stupendous disclosure had been accomplished, and his anxiety a thing of the past. "i shud say he war," replied the girl, a little aroused now. "say, he done _cry_, thet's what. reckons as how he mout a be'n sorry fur not promisin' like they wanted long ergo. he arsks as how yer looked, an' ef yer mam war still well. caus i cudn't tell him a heap, 'cause i didn't know; but i sez ter him thet yer hed kim hyar ter fotch 'im home, an' it'd be a shame ef yer hed ter go back erlone, jest 'cause he wanted ter be ugly. so he says as how he'd be'n athinkin', an' mout change his mind 'bout thet thar promise." "oh! to think of it, thad," bob breathed, gripping the arm of his staunch chum eagerly; "my father is alive after all these terrible months; and perhaps he'll even go home with me. it's worth all i've suffered ten times, yes a thousand times over." "you deserve all the happiness there can be going, bob, sure you do," declared the scoutmaster, positively. "i guess nothing could be too good for you. but we don't just understand yet how this is going to be brought about. will phin dady let him go free if he makes that promise, polly?" "shore, he's jest _got_ ter, now," the girl answered, with a little chuckle. "yer see, like i sez afore, things, have changed a heap now, an' my dad, he hain't a feelin' thet sore agin ther marshal like he used ter. an' bob quail, even ef he warn't gwine ter do hit, arter wat i larned this same night, i tells yer i'd set yer dad free on my own 'count." "what did you learn?" asked thad, curiously, seeing that apparently the girl could not of her own free will tell a story, but it had to be drawn from her piece meal, through the means of questions. "i war acomin' down ther mounting," she began, "an' 'bout harf way hyah i seen thet ther lights war a movin' down in ther valley. so i jest natchally stopped ter read what ther news was, 'spectin' thet it meant trouble fur you-uns. but the more i reads ther more i gits wise ter ther fack thet yer be'n an' done hit sum moah." "yes," said thad, encouragingly, though already he understood what was coming. "'pears like 'tain't enuff fur yer ter skeer off thet cat, an' keep me from agittin' my face clawed handsome, but yer must go an' save ther life o' my uncle cliff. i reads thet he was hurt bad by nate's gun goin' off, an' bleedin' a heap, so's they feels sure he never kin be took 'crost ter the doc's alive. then they jest happen on yer camp down thar; an' shore he gut his arm fixed up so's ter stop ther blood comin'; an' they fotched him acrost ther valley in good shape." "it was only a little thing, polly, and gave me a great deal of pleasure," said thad, thrilled despite himself by the girl's simple recital of the event. "p'raps 'twar," she replied, sturdily; "but my maw, she sots some store by uncle cliff; an' dad, he cain't nowise go agin wot she wants. so i sees right plain like it was writ, thet bob, he's bound arter this, ter git his dad free." "oh! it's like a dream to me, thad; i feel as if i must be asleep. give me a pinch or something, won't you, and let me understand that i'm alive," bob exclaimed. "you're awake, all right, old fellow," replied thad, with a nervous little laugh. "and unless i miss my guess, polly here is going to give you another pleasant little surprise; ain't you, polly?" "w'en i larns thet 'bout my uncle," continued the mountain girl, "i jest thinks as how bob hyah, he's be'n a wantin' ter larn somethin' 'bout his ole man ther longest time ever. an' so i makes up my min' ter fotch 'im right away up ter ther still in ther cave, so's ter see how the man as is chained'd feel ter git his boy in his arms onct agin!" "oh! polly, however can i thank you?" exclaimed the excited bob; "please let's start then right away. i thought i was tired, but now i'm feelin' as fresh as ever i could be. you couldn't go too quick to suit me!" chapter xxvi. the "still" in the mountain cave. "hit's sum climb," said polly, doubtfully. "but think what is at the end of it," answered the eager bob. "why, to see my father again, i'd go all night, and then some. please don't say you won't, polly, after giving me your promise." "i'm gwine tuh leave hit tuh him," said the girl simply, and both of them understood that she meant thad; for doubtless polly had guessed before now that he was the leader of the boys in uniform, and that what he said was authority. thad knew there was no such thing as trying to restrain his chum, now that the fever was in his veins; nor did he have any desire to do so. "he'll make it, all right, i think, polly," he remarked, quietly. "sure i will; so let's start," declared the other. polly, of course, was willing. she did not seem to give one thought to herself; and yet thad remembered how swollen her ankle had seemed, after such a bad twisting in the cleft of the rock that same afternoon, when the angry wildcat threatened to jump at her. but then polly had been reared among the mountains that seem to meet the sky; and she was a girl accustomed to standing all manner of pain as well as any grown man could have done. they started to climb upward. one thing favored them, for which thad was really glad. polly knew every foot of the rough country like a scholar might the printed pages of a book. she could lead them along trails that they never would have suspected existed at all, hidden as they were from the eye of a stranger, by the artful moonshiners. and while possibly the climbing might be difficult, it was never as bad as the boys had found it when ascending the mountain in the day time. bob for a wonder kept quiet. of course he needed all his wind to carry him through. then again, he was naturally turning over in his mind the amazing thing that had just come to him, and trying to realize his wonderful good fortune. the thought that he was about to see his dear father shortly was enough to fill his mind, to the exclusion of all else. and so he continued to follow close after the nimble girl, while thad brought up the rear. they paused to rest several times. no doubt it was more on account of these two boys, quite unaccustomed to such harsh labor as climbing a mountain, that compelled polly to pause; because otherwise, she could have kept straight on, without any rest. "we's gittin' thar now," she remarked, finally, as they halted for the fourth time, with bob fairly panting for breath, and thad himself secretly confessing that this mountain climbing after a surefooted girl who had shown herself as nimble as a goat, was no "cinch." "i'm glad to hear that news, polly," bob admitted candidly; but then it may have been on account of the fact that he was nearer the meeting with his long-lost father, rather than an admission that he was tired. "jest wun moah stop, an' shore we'll be thar; p'raps we cud make her right smart from hyah, ef so be yuh felt fresh enuff," polly explained. "let's try, anyhow," declared bob; "you don't know how much i can stand. why, i used to climb these same mountains as well as you ever could; and it'd be queer if i'd forgot all i ever knew." "thet sounds jest like a quail," remarked the girl, with a chuckle, as she once more took up the work. the last part of the climb was certainly the roughest of all. old phin had hidden his secret still in a quarter of the rocky uplift where no revenue man thus far had ever been able to look upon it of his own free will. but finally they heard polly say that it was close by. thad also noticed that the girl had changed her manner more or less. she climbed now without making the slightest noise; just as though some instinct, born of her life in the zone where warfare always existed between her people and the government agents, had caused her to exercise caution. thad saw that they were approaching what must be a rocky gully, leading to some sort of cave. he remembered that polly had, while speaking, happened to mention the fact that her father's famous still was located in a cave, which could never be found by the smartest agent the authorities had ever sent to look for such illegal distilleries. "look out yer don't slip!" came in a low but thrilling whisper from the guide at this juncture; and from this thad assumed that they must be passing along the edge of some dizzy precipice, that had to do with the safety of the manufactory, the existence of which had so long taunted the government. now and then polly would give a slight pause. at such times thad believed she must be looking cautiously around, to make sure that the guard had not returned to the place since she left there some time before. then he realized that he could no longer see the stars overhead. from this he judged they must have passed underground; and that this was a fact he presently learned when, by stretching out his hand, he felt the cold rock close by. all around them was pitch darkness at first, and the girl had made bob take hold of her dress, while thad in the rear kept a hand on his chum's back as they moved slowly along. presently the watchful scoutmaster made a little discovery that afforded him pleasure. there must be a light ahead somewhere, for he began to catch a faint glow, such as might come from a lantern. this illumination grew gradually stronger, until they could actually manage to see dimly around them. "wait hyah foh me, till i see ef ther coast is clar," whispered the girl. the two scouts saw her slip away. it struck thad that possibly he and his chums had much to learn ere they could pass along as noiselessly as this mountain girl. how the seconds dragged. each one must have seemed torture to poor anxious bob, knowing as he did that the one he had long mourned as dead was so near at hand. they heard nothing save a dripping sound, which might have been caused by water. evidently the secret still was not in operation just then; and words dropped by polly gave thad the impression that possibly it had ceased work for all time, because of some reason that brought about a change in the conditions. polly could not have been gone more than five minutes before she came gliding back again to where she had left the boys. "hit's all right, an' thar don't 'pear ter be any guard 'round." she plucked at bob's coat sleeve, as if to let him understand that he could come on now; as if the boy needed a second invitation. they turned a bend in the narrow passage ahead, and thad drew a long breath as he looked upon one of the most remarkable scenes it had ever been his fortune to see. the cave was a natural grotto, rock-ribbed, and as firm as the everlasting foundations of the mountains themselves. the moonshiners had fitted it up for their purpose; and there, for the first time thad saw what a still looked like. after all, it did not amount to much, the worm being the most interesting part of it. but then the fact that he was now gazing upon the very still that revenue men had for years tried in vain to discover and wreck, gave the scoutmaster a sensation akin to awe. but all this he saw with one sweeping glance. there was more. a clanking as of a chain drew his attention to a figure that had arisen from a bench, and was pushing the long hair from his eyes to watch their entrance. evidently polly during her short absence must have whispered to the prisoner that bob was close by. there was, of course, no such thing as holding bob back any longer. he saw that ragged and altogether uncouth figure, which of course bore not the least resemblance to the father he remembered so well; but he also had discovered a pair of extended arms, and toward their shelter the boy fairly leaped. another instant and bob quail was wrapped in the embrace of the parent he had not seen in more than two years, and whose fate it had been to remain here a prisoner among the moonshiners who hated him so thoroughly, while his dear ones mourned him as dead. after a few minutes thad moved closer, and gave a little cough, wishing to let his chum know that he had a comrade tried and true near by. with that bob started up, and gripped him by the arm. "this is my best friend, thad brewster, father," he said. thad shook hands with the emaciated man who had been confined in this underground retreat so long. in spite of the long beard and strange looks of the other, he realized that mr. quail was no ordinary man. but then thad had guessed that already, from what he had heard about the one-time marshal. "this is a mighty big piece of luck for bob!" thad remarked. "it seems nearly too good to be true; and he'll be the happiest boy in the states when he takes you back home with him, sir." "home!" repeated the prisoner; "how strange that word sounds, after being shut up here so long. and how queer the outside world will seem to me. but i hope the promise old phin dady made me, still holds good; for i've no longer the desire to hold out against his will. in my own mind i'm no longer on the pay-roll of the government, for he tells me every one believes me dead; so i can take the vow with a clear conscience. yes, i'm hoping to go home with my boy." thad felt that all now remaining for them to do was to get in communication with the moonshiner, and have mr. quail set at liberty. surely after what he and bob had done for the family of phin dady, the latter could not refuse to let his prisoner go; especially since he now professed his willingness to make the promise that up to this time he had absolutely declined to subscribe to. they were still talking in this strain when a sound like a cough drew their attention, and looking up, thad discovered a grim figure leaning on his gun not twenty feet away. there was no need to ask who the man was, for every one of them had already recognized the moonshiner, phin dady! chapter xxvii. bumpus calls for three cheers. the mountaineer was the first to speak. "'pears like i was interruptin' a leetle fambly reunion," he remarked, drily. at any rate, thad noticed, there did not seem to be any great show of anger in the actions or words of the man. nor was he leveling that terrible gun, which had doubtless brought consternation into the hearts of more than one invading group of revenue officers in times past. indeed, thad was rather inclined to think old phin looked remarkably docile, as though his claws had been pulled, and he no longer felt that the whole world was against him. mr. quail, however, did not see things in this way. he was not aware of the great change that had come about in the dady family, that threatened to remove from the blue ridge the most remarkable and picturesque figure the region had ever known. "i'm ready to make that promise you once put before me, phin!" he cried out, as if secretly fearing that harm might fall upon the head of his venturesome boy, because of his braving the moonshiner's wrath by searching out the secret still. "hit's too late fur thet, mistah quail!" declared the other grimly. "but surely you wouldn't think of changing your mind now?" said the prisoner. "thet's jest what i done, suh," answered phin. "polly, i'se noticin' as how yuh brung them byes up hyah tuh the old still. reckons as how yuh never'd dared do thet same on'y foh what's cum ter pass." "reckons as how i wudn't, dad," replied the girl; who, somehow, did not seem to display any particular fear of the stern parent, such as might have been expected under the circumstances. "are you going to let me go free, phin dady?" demanded the prisoner, hoarsely. for answer the moonshiner stepped forward, and with a key he produced, released the iron that had been fastened about the ankle of the one-time revenue marshal. "i give you the promise you wanted, phin, and never will i tell a living soul where the hiding-place of your still lies," mr. quail declared, trying to conceal his emotion as a brave man might. "thet's good o' ye, mistah quail," remarked the other, with one of his dry chuckles that somehow thad liked to hear. "and more than that, phin," continued the other, earnestly, "i agree never again to enter these mountains in search of the men who live here, and who believe they have a right to make this moonshine stuff as they please, whether the authorities down in washington let them or not. i've resigned as a marshal, phin. you and your friends will never have to think of me again as an enemy. and i suppose then that the curious public will never get the sight of this famous still of yours, that i boasted they would." "thet's whar yuh makes a mistake, suh," said the old man, with a wide grin. "i reckons now as it's a gwine to be ther trade mark ter be used on ther bottles. i be'n tole thet it ort ter help make sales, w'en they knows the new medicine, made outen roots an' yarbs got in ther mountings, an' wich cures all kinds o' shakes an' chills like magic, is manufactured in ther same old still as phin dady cooked moonshine stuff foh nigh on ten hull yeahs." "what's that?" exclaimed the late prisoner, while polly laughed softly, like one who sees a new life opening up before her. thad began to see glimpses of light. he remembered the strange words used by the girl from time to time. yes, there _had_ a change taken place; things were never going to be the same as they had been in the past. accident had opened the eyes of the old mountaineer, and he had discovered a way to make money, with the government for, not against him. "w'y, yuh see," he began, rather clumsily; when polly took the words from his mouth, being so full of the subject that she just could not hold in. "he used ter make up a kind o' medicine w'enever we gut ther shakes, an' it did the bizness the slickest yuh ever did see, suh," she started to say. "thar was a man as kim erlong heah, an' heerd 'bout hit. so he sez as how he'd like ter take a bottle erlong, and hev it tested. w'ich they done, an' writ as how it was sich a wonder thet p'raps dad, he cud supply ther trade. an' on'y yist'day he done gits a letter, suh, as binds ther bargain. old phin, he ain't agwine tuh make moonshine no moah. we's ameanin' tuh go tuh town, jest as soon's we heahs from ther people in washington, as these drug men hes gone ter see. yuh know hit wudn't be nice if they sot on my dad as soon as he showed up, an' locked him in prison, 'case as how he use ter make mounting dew on ther sly." crudely expressed as it was, thad understood the whole story now. it fairly took his breath away, it was so strange. to think of this gaunt old mountaineer having discovered a medicine that was going to prove as great a benefit to mankind as the stuff he had been hitherto manufacturing was a curse! it was almost too wonderful for belief. "do you mean that the gentlemen who mean to handle the product of your still in the future are trying to get the authorities to wipe all the past off the slate, and let your father start fresh?" asked mr. quail. "thems erbout hit, suh," polly replied, nodding her head. "hand we-uns 'spect ter live in town arter this, whar p'raps i kin wear a hat, an' hev sum shoes as hain't big ernuff fur a man, an' git some larnin' in school. soon's as we knows, we reckons on movin'." "and phin dady, perhaps i might be of assistance to you down at washington, once i get to a barber, and look something respectable," said the late prisoner. "d'ye mean thet ye don't hold no grudge agin me foh what i done tuh ye?" demanded the old moonshiner, evidently surprised. "that's just what i mean," replied the other, heartily. "outside of keeping me a prisoner, and even that was partly my fault, you've not been harder on me than one might expect. and i'm so happy now, with this noble lad by my side, and the knowledge that my wife still lives, that i couldn't bear you any ill feeling. i hope you'll be a big success in your new business; and here's my hand, if you care to take it." "hurrah!" cried bob, feeling like throwing up his hat when he saw the two men, enemies for so long, shaking hands in a friendly way. thad himself had never felt so light-hearted. it seemed as though all of their troubles had suddenly taken flight, and the future looked bright indeed. this hike through the blue ridge had turned out ten times more wonderful than any of them had ever dreamed, when the undertaking was first discussed, away up in cranford. it had given bob back a father whom he had believed was dead; and presently bertha, too, would be taken from the guardian who had no real legal right to her charge. the boy scouts would be able to go back to their home town with a feather in their hats, after accomplishing so many wonderful things. but how were they going to get down to the faraway camp? would mr. quail, who must be weak on account of having been kept in the cavern so long, be able to stand the rough trip? perhaps, after all, they had better stay there during the balance of the night, and wait for daylight to come. thad was perfectly willing to leave all this to the gentleman himself; and presently he became aware that they were even then discussing it. his long and bitter association with those cold walls, and that still, must have given mr. quail a dislike for the sight of them; because he expressed himself as only too willing to start down without delay. "it's true that i'm not as strong as i might be right now," he admitted; "but that weakness ought to pass away as i get the fresh air. besides, having my boy at my side will work wonders. yes, please do not let my condition keep us here one minute longer than is absolutely necessary." and so they all started down. since there was no longer any need for secrecy, polly carried the lantern along. after all, it was not such very hard work. with a light to show them what they had to avoid, and a pilot who knew every foot of the mountainside, they made very fair progress indeed. even mr. quail declared he was getting stronger all the time, as he drew in big quantities of the sweet mountain air, so different from that he had been enduring so long, tainted with the fumes of the still. once polly halted, and drew their attention to a light far down. "thet's yer fire," was what she said, simply; and both bob and thad allowed their gaze to fall upon the flicker with a sense of deep satisfaction; for they knew that they were about to prove to be messengers of good tidings to those tried and true comrades so anxiously awaiting their return. thad forgot that his feet burned, and that his muscles cried out in protest against such unusual exertion; the thing that had happened was of so wonderful a nature that every time he thought about it he told himself he ought to consider himself equal to the task of walking up and down hill all the remainder of the night, without a single groan or falter. now they were evidently drawing nearer the lower part of the mountain. glimpses they caught of the camp-fire told them this good news. besides, thad really began to recognize his surroundings. and he was not so very much surprised when polly suddenly stopped and pointing to the rock at her feet, remarked: "hit war right thar, dad, as i got cort by ther foot; an' on thet ledge yonder ther cat squatted, agrowlin' and spittin' like the ole nick, and meanin' tuh jump right on me. see, hyars a stick thet helped tuh beat him off. an' as yuh knows, 'twar this same boy, thad they calls 'im, as dun fixed uncle cliff up, so's nate an' tom, they cud fotch him acrost tuh ther doc. reckon we ort tuh do all we kin ter show 'em ther dady fambly hes gut feelins." "shore we ort, gal, an' we's agwine tuh do thet same," declared old phin. "we don't doubt it," said thad, more or less affected by these evidences of gratitude on the part of the mountaineer and his daughter. "what i did was only a little thing you know, that could hardly count." "but hit saved cliff's life, an' thet meant sumthin' foh him," the girl continued, with a shake of her tousled head. "come erlong, an' let's git down thar. reckons as how a cup o' coffee'd taste right good tuh yuh dad." "coffee!" echoed mr. quail, as though the very sound of the word touched his inmost feelings; "it'll seem like nectar for the gods just to smell it again, after--but no matter, it was the best they had, and i oughtn't to say anything." all the same thad noticed that his steps quickened a little, and he seemed to sniff the air from time to time, as if in imagination he could already catch a faint whiff of the treat in store for him. as they drew closer to the camp thad could see that some of the boys were sitting there. perhaps they had been too anxious to even try and sleep; though he believed he knew of one at least who could never have held out all this while, no matter how strong his determination. waiting until they had arrived within a certain distance, and there was no evidence that any one had noticed the descending lantern, thad gave vent to a call. it was the bark of the fox, and used by the members of the patrol as a signal in case they wished to communicate with one another. he saw the figures about the fire quicken into life. they seemed to jump to their feet, and stare about them, as if unable to understand what that call meant. a little to the surprise of thad his signal was repeated from a point close by, and immediately allan hollister showed up. undoubtedly the maine boy had been scouting around the borders of the camp, seeking to guard against any surprise. he had watched the coming of the group with the lantern, and guessed that two of them must be the missing comrades, thad and bob. when they all stalked into camp, the boys were thunderstruck to see old phin and his daughter, apparently on the best of terms with their comrades; and as for the tall man with the long hair and beard, they could easily guess who he must be by the way bob quail clung to his hand. then bumpus called for three cheers, and they were given with a vim that made the valley echo from side to side. possibly some of those moonshiner videttes must have started up, wondering what on earth could be occurring in the camp of the boy scouts. there was little chance that any of the boys would get a wink of sleep during the remainder of that eventful night. long did they sit there by the revived fire, watching mr. quail drink his coffee, cup after cup, and listening to the strangest story they had ever heard. even when finally, along about three in the morning, they were induced to lie down upon their various beds of leaves and grass, sleep must have utterly refused to visit their eyes, save in the case of bumpus himself; and he could drop into slumber in almost "any old position, even if he were hanging by his heels," as giraffe used to say. and so the night passed away, and another morning found them, red-eyed but joyful beyond compare; for they felt that their great hike among the mountains had turned out to be the finest thing possible, both for their comrade, bob, and themselves. chapter xxviii. home again--conclusion. the mountain hike had come to an end. one and all, the boy scouts declared that they had seen about enough of this wild country of the blue ridge, and would be glad to turn their steps toward dear old cranford. they believed they could find other ways to enjoy themselves that offered better inducements than climbing the sides of mountains, with suspicious moonshiners watching their every move. of course, now that old phin dady had taken them under his protection, they had no reason to fear any bodily harm. and what thad had done for cliff dorie must go pretty far toward making them friends among the ignorant mountain people. but because old phin meant to desert his former calling for one that would have the sanction of the law, did not mean that moonshine stuff would not continue to be made up in the dells back of the trail in the smoky range. there were many others who knew no other means for making a slim livelihood, than by cheating the government of the heavy tax it placed on strong drink. so the scouts decided, by a unanimous vote, that they had seen enough of these parts; and would hail with delight an order to turn their backs on it all. besides, did they not know that both bob and his father would be fairly wild to hasten to the waiting mother and wife in that northern home? they made the start as soon as they could get in marching order. polly and her father accompanied them through the mountains. this was considered best, lest some suspicious moonshiner think it his duty to take a pot shot or two at those figures far down the valley, wearing the khaki uniform he hated. at every cabin they passed, the natives swarmed out to see the strange sight of old phin walking amiably by the side of the boy soldiers, as they supposed the scouts to be. once or twice there was an ugly demonstration, some of the natives fancying that the mountaineer must have surrendered, and was being carried off to jail. it took considerable explaining to get these people to understand the truth about things, and that phin was on the best of terms with the boys. finally he dared go no further, because as yet he did not know what success his agents, the drug men, had in washington; and there was danger of revenue men sighting him at any moment, when trouble must break out, since there had been war between them for so long. when the little party of scouts turned up again in asheville, they found plenty to do there to keep them over until another day. first of all, mr. quail underwent a complete transformation at the hands of a barber; for he declared he believed the sight of him, in his present condition, with such long hair and beard, would be enough to send his poor wife into a fit, or else have her drive him from the door as a pretender. and when he appeared before the scouts, decently dressed in a new suit, which bob's money paid for, as he had none himself just then, bumpus voiced the sentiments of the entire patrol when he declared that mr. quail was as fine looking a gentleman as he knew. of course a message had been sent to cranford, to apprise bob's mother of the glorious result of his hike down in the blue ridge country, which they had once upon a time called home. it had to be very carefully worded, lest the shock to her nerves prove too great. and in another day, father and son hoped to be once more with the one who would not sleep a wink until her own eyes beheld the loved form which she believed had gone from her forever. then there was that affair concerning little bertha to be considered. great had been the indignation of mr. quail when, on examining the paper which bob had secured through the help of the girl, he realized all the rascality that reuben sparks had been guilty of. they held an interview with a well-known lawyer, who, on hearing the facts, and seeing the legal document, advised them to leave it all in his charge. "i promise you that this party will be summoned to appear forthwith, bringing his ward with him," this legal gentleman had declared; "and once within the jurisdiction of the court, it will be an easy matter to dispossess him. indeed, should he show fight, we can have him sent up for a term of years." with such a pleasant prospect before them, did the scouts leave the old tar-heel state. they had come down here for an outing, and to see what bob had once called his home; but the tour had turned out to be a more serious affair than any of them could ever have anticipated. and now they were on the way home again, filled with memories of the many events that had seasoned their brief stay in the land of the sky; home to familiar scenes and to look upon faces that were dear to them. a jolly party they were on the train that bore them away toward the north. bob and his father sat by themselves, for they had a thousand things to talk about, that concerned only their private interests. but the rest clustered at one end of the sleeper, and eagerly reviewed the stories they would have to tell. "oh! we'll have the greatest time ever, just showing the fellers how we did it," declared bumpus. "first of all, we'll get giraffe to wade into a creek, and explain how he was bein' pulled down by that sucking quicksand, when the prompt arrival of the rest of the bunch saved his precious life. i always heard that when one's just born to be hanged there ain't no use tryin' to get rid of him by any other means; which i guess stands for quicksand too." "that sounds mighty fine, bumpus," remarked giraffe, unmoved by the laughter greeting the proposition; "but just think what a great stunt it'll be when we get davy jones here showing 'em what he c'n do dropping down head-first into a bully old camp-fire, and swimmin' in red coals. that ought to bring down the house; if only we c'n coax him to do it over again." "not much you will," declared the said davy, looking ruefully at sundry red marks on both his wrists, that served to remind him of the accident. "once is enough for me; and i tell you right now, fellows, if ever i _do_ climb a tree again, to exercise, i'm going to be mighty careful i don't hang down over a blaze. there's such a thing as takin' too many chances." "a burnt child dreads the fire," sang out step hen. "hello! are you there, old sobersides?" remarked giraffe, pretending to be surprised; "now, we all of us thought you might be busy writin' out in your mind a treatise on how to be happy watching a tumble-bug try to roll his big ball uphill; or else what lessons can be gained by watching the humble beetle in his never-say-die act as a gymnast. but i see you've got your badge right-side up to-day, all to the good, step hen; what wonderful stunt have you been pulling off now?" "oh! it didn't amount to much, i guess, fellows; but then even a little speck of kindness counts, they say," remonstrated step hen. "i happen to know," remarked thad, breaking into the conversation; "for i was just coming into that other ordinary car, when i saw our comrade doing himself proud. perhaps it _is_ only a little thing for a boy to notice that a poor woman with three kids clinging to her skirts, and a baby in her arms, wants to get a bottle of milk warmed, and don't know just how to manage it; and to offer to do it for her; but let me tell you, that poor tired mother said 'thank you, my boy' just as if it meant a _heap_ to her! yes, step hen, you had a right to turn your badge; and i only hope you find as good a chance to do it every single day, as you did on this one." and giraffe became suddenly silent. perhaps something within told him that he too had passed that same weary mother; and if he thought anything at all at the time it was only to wonder why a woman could be so silly as to travel with so many children. "well, you see," remarked step hen, feeling that some sort of explanation was expected from him, after the scoutmaster had given him the "spot light" on the stage. "i got to talkin' with her afterwards, and she told me that the children's paw had just died down south, and she was on her way home to her mother's. after hearin' that, fellers, i wanted to do anything more i could for the poor thing; and i did jump off at the last station, and buy the kids some sandwiches, 'cause, you see, they didn't have a great lot to munch on. but it was worth while to watch 'em gobble the snack of chicken i got along with 'em, like they hadn't had a bite to eat this livelong day." thad walked away, satisfied that step hen was proving his worth as a scout. that little lesson of the humble bug had opened his eyes, and through those touched his heart. perhaps he might not change all at once, for he was inclined to stumble, and fall down, when he had made good resolutions; but the chances were he would see more in life than ever before. and that is what a scout wants to do, keep his eyes open all the while, in order to notice many of the strange things that are happening every minute of the day all around him; until he learns to do that which will give him the greatest treat that could possibly happen to any one. time was when step hen might have passed that poor mother, and never have given her a second thought; but it was different now. and the strange thing about it, in thad's mind, was that an obscure little tumble-bug, one of the lowliest of all created things, could have succeeded in showing step hen that he had a heart; and that even a boy can find chances to do kindly acts, if he looks for them. "well," said bumpus, as they huddled together in a bunch, exchanging views and watching the mountains and valleys as they were whirled past, "if we could have the say right now where the silver fox patrol would spend next vacation, where d'ye reckon it would be?" "let's take a vote!" suggested step hen. "that's the ticket, mr. secretary, get eight ballots ready, and let's write first choice and second, majority rules," and the patrol leader nodded in the direction of his chum allan, just as much as to say it was easy to guess what one vote would be. "count as i call out, bob white. here goes now: maine first choice, rocky mountains second." "hurrah!" cried bumpus. "another for maine, with the saskatchewan country of canada second," thad went on; "but this comrade forgot that as american boy scouts we do not want to spend our money and vacations in a foreign land." when the eight ballots had been counted, strange to say maine was first choice with every one, and the rockies well in the lead as second. "move we make it unanimous," laughed giraffe, which was duly done according to statute. "much good that will do, with a whole year to wait, because it wouldn't pay to go up into maine for only christmas week," grumbled step hen. but strange to say it was decreed in a most remarkable way that the wish expressed by the scouts should be made an actual fact, and just how this came about the reader will find duly set forth in the third volume of this series entitled, "the boy scouts on the trail, or scouting through the big game country." in due time the scouts arrived at cranford station, where their coming had been anticipated; for the story of how the boys had found the missing husband of mrs. quail had somehow gotten around, since cranford had its gossips. one of these happened to be calling on the lady at the time bob's telegram arrived. of course its nature was such as to give mrs. quail a shock, though she quickly recovered; but there had been ample time for the visitor to glance at the message, between dabs at the face of the fainting lady with a handkerchief wet with cologne. and that was how the news got out. "look at the crowd, would you?" gasped bumpus, as he poked his head out of the door, and saw what seemed to his excited imagination about the whole of cranford filling the home station, and craning necks in the endeavor to be the first to glimpse the resurrected father of bob quail. "hurrah for the boy scouts!" some one called out. they were given with a rush and a roar that brought other passengers hurrying to the windows of the cars, to see what popular hero it could be arriving home, to excite such a tremendous demonstration. "hurrah for thad brewster!" called a second school-boy, as the young scoutmaster stepped off the train, bearing certain bundles, that might be a haversack and a take-down shotgun. another wave of applause went sweeping up from the crowd. "three cheers for bob quail, and his dad!" shrilled yet another enthusiast; upon which the echoes were fairly awakened by the racket. the scouts fell into line, and two and two marched along the station platform; for mr. quail had already taken his wife into his arms, and they had retired to the interior of the little building, in order to be less conspicuous while they talked it all over. bumpus sounded his bugle, and the boys kept step as they walked along, with heads up, and feeling that they had gained the right to feel a bit proud, after what they had gone through. the crowd pushed after them, still shouting, and making a great clamor. and from one of the car windows looked a bevy of childish faces, back of which was the wan one of the tired mother; step hen disobeyed the rules for one second only, when he turned, and waved his hand to his little friends of the train. seeing which thad brewster said softly to himself: "i warrant you that little woman believes all this noise is meant for just one boy, and he the fellow who was so kind to her; because, in her sight step hen is a real hero, and this racket is meant especially for his home-coming." the end. the boy scouts series by herbert carter [illustration] for boys 12 to 16 years all cloth bound copyright titles price, 65 cents each new stories of camp life the boy scouts' first campfire; or, scouting with the silver fox patrol. the boy scouts in the blue ridge; or, marooned among the moonshiners. the boy scouts on the trail; or, scouting through the big game country. the boy scouts in the maine woods; or, the new test for the silver fox patrol. the boy scouts through the big timber; or, the search for the lost tenderfoot. the boy scouts in the rockies; or, the secret of the hidden silver mine. the boy scouts on sturgeon island; or, marooned among the game-fish poachers. the boy scouts down in dixie; or, the strange secret of alligator swamp. the boy scouts at the battle of saratoga; a story of burgoyne's defeat in 1777. the boy scouts along the susquehanna; or, the silver fox patrol caught in a flood. the boy scouts on war trails in belgium; or, caught between hostile armies. the boy scouts afoot in france; or, with the red cross corps at the marne. * * * * * for sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the publishers a. l. burt company 114-120 east 23rd street new york the golden boys series [illustration] by l. p. wyman, ph.d. dean of pennsylvania military college. a new series of instructive copyright stories for boys of high school age. handsome cloth binding. price, 65 cents each. the golden boys and their new electric cell the golden boys at the fortress the golden boys in the maine woods the golden boys with the lumber jacks the golden boys on the river drive * * * * * for sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the publishers. a. l. burt company 114-120 east 23rd street, new york * * * * * transcriber's note: obvious punctuation errors were corrected. page 4, "granford" changed to "cranford" (home town of cranford) page 4, "allen" changed to "allan" (command, was allan) page 5, "allen" changed to "allan" (looked to allan) page 24, "in" changed to "it" (is it, right here) page 54, "knicked" changed to "kicked" (beast kicked up his) page 60, "pome" changed to "poem" (that stirring poem) page 62, "neen't" changed to "needn't" (needn't be afraid) page 87, "moat" changed to "mote" (mote out of your) page 90, "at" changed to "apt" (are apt to interest) page 94, "happennings" changed to "happenings" (of the queer happenings) page 142, "supose" changed to "suppose" (i suppose we've) page 147, "putties" changed to "puttees" (their puttees protected) page 181, "tournaquet" changed to "tourniquet" (making a tourniquet) page 190, "too" changed to "to" (going to tell you) page 193, "allen" changed to "allan" (direction, too," added allan) heart of the blue ridge the illustrations shown in this edition are reproductions of scenes from the photo-play of "heart of the blue ridge," with clara kimball young as the heroine, under the direction of lewis j. selznick, to whom the publishers desire to express their thanks and appreciation for permission to use the pictures. [illustration: _clara kimball young under the direction of lewis j. selznick._ plutina.] heart of the blue ridge by waldron baily illustrated with scenes from the photoplay, with clara kimball young as the heroine, under the direction of lewis j. selznick [illustration] new york grosset & dunlap publishers copyright, 1915, by w. j. watt & company to irving bacheller with the appreciation of the author heart of the blue ridge heart of the blue ridge chapter i where the trail bent over a knoll, zeke halted, and put down from his shoulder the hickory cudgel with its dangling valise of black oilcloth--total of baggage with which he was faring forth into the world. then, he straightened himself, and looked back over the way he had come. there, to the east, the dusk of night still lay somberly, hardly touched by the coming dawn. through the shadows, the mountain masses loomed formidable and mysterious, vaguely outlined against the deeper gloom of valleys. the melancholy of the scene seemed a fit setting for the cottage that rested invisible within the forest, a half-mile distant from him. in imagination, he saw the withered old woman, his mother, still standing on the threshold, looking toward him, even as he looked toward her, her heart warm with love, her every thought a prayer for his happiness. it was borne in on zeke once again that she would be very lonely in her desolate home, where death had spared to her only this son.... and, now, he was gone from her! a poignant sorrow welled in him. zeke thrust the emotion away, lest it unman him. he faced about, drearily enough, and stood with downcast, unseeing eyes, in anxious pondering. and then, presently, assuagement was granted him. he lifted his gaze, and behold! here was another world, all of soft splendors, of throbbing radiance. the eager beams of the unrisen sun shimmered above the mountain ranges of the horizon, and streamed toward the zenith in a panoply of harmonious hues, colorful promise of the may morning's joyous mood. of a sudden, under the soothing influence, the watcher became listener as well. his ears noted with delight the glad singing of the birds in the wood around about. his glance caught the white gleam of the tiny belled blossoms that clustered on a crooked sour-wood by the path, and the penetrant perfume of them stirred to life a new and subtler emotion. a flame of tenderness burned in the clear hazel of his eyes, as he stared out over the trail before him. under the increasing light his gaze could distinguish the line of the valley a mile further on, in which the siddon cottage lay hidden. his firmly-set lips relaxed abruptly into a smile of wistful softness. he swung stick and bag across his shoulder once again, and set off briskly down the slope of the knoll. his thoughts were no longer gray over the mother who mourned his going: they were roseate with anticipations of beholding the girl he loved. now, the mood of the morning danced in his blood. the palpitant desire of all nature in the spring thrilled through his heart. his mind was filled with a vision of her gracious young loveliness, so soon to be present before him at their meeting.... their meeting--their parting! at thought of that corollary, a cold despair clutched the lad, a despair that was nothing like the sedate sorrow over leaving his mother, a despair that was physical sickness, wrenching, nauseating, but passed beyond the physical to rack the deeps of being. for the first time, jealousy surged hideous in him, born of the realization that she must be left exposed to the wooing of other men--she, the utterly desirable! in a fierce impulse of mingled fear and rage, he stopped short, and cried out: "i'll be damned if they kin steal her! she's mine. she done told me so, and plutiny wouldn't lie!" from an ambush of laurel bushes close beside the path, a tall, slender form stood forth, the lissome figure of a girl in the budding charm of womanhood. there was a lithe, curving beauty in the lines that the scant homespun gown outlined so clearly. the swift movement by which she revealed herself was instinct with grace. as she rested motionless, with arms extended in a gesture of appeal, there was a singular dignity in the pose, a distinction of personality that was in no wise marred by bare feet and shapeless gown; not even by the uncouthness of dialect, when she spoke. and winsomeness of form and bearing was crowned by the beauty of her face, in which the insipidity of regular features was redeemed by exquisite coloring of rose and white, and by the dusk brilliance of the eyes. the tender lips were wreathed to playful reproach, as she addressed the lover for whom she thus waited at the dawn: "zekie--oh, zekie! ye hain't a-cussin' o' me, be ye?" the young man, surprised, started, and regarded the girl in confusion. the red that had suffused his tanned cheeks deepened to a burning blush of embarrassment, as he realized that his outburst had been overheard by her who had been the cause of it. but his eyes met her quizzical glance with candid directness. after a moment, he spoke. all the harshness was gone from his voice; its soft drawl was vibrant with tenderness. "no, honey, i hain't a'cussin' o' you-all. i was jest a-mentionin' some folks. but i hain't a-feared. nobody hain't a-goin' to steal yer love from me." "nobody--never, zeke!" the girl answered, simply. there was an infinite honesty, an unalterable loyalty, in the curt words. as he listened, the flush died from the lover's face; contentment shone in his expression. "i knowed hit, honey--i knowed hit all the time. i know when i come back i'll find ye waitin'." "ye'll come back, i reckon, with fool idees 'bout what yer women-folks ought to wear, like them furriners down below." her face relaxed into a genial smile, which brought a dimple to shadow the pink bloom of her cheek. but there was a trace of pensiveness; the vague hint of jealousy in the slow tones: "yes, i'll be a-waitin' till ye come, zekie. an' if the wearin' o' shoes an' stockin's 'll make ye any happier, why, i guess i kin stand 'em--an' them ladies' straighteners, too. yep, i'd wear 'em, if they did squeeze me fit to bust." since plutina had thus come to meet him, there was no need that he should follow further the trail toward the siddon cabin, which lay out of his course. at the girl's suggestion that she should accompany him a little way on the first stage of his journey out into the world, the two turned back toward the broader path, which led to the southwest until it met the north wilkesboro' road. the two walked side by side, along this lovers' lane of nature's kindly devising. they went sedately, in all seeming, for the mountain folk are chary in demonstrations of affection. yet, beneath the austere mask imposed by convention, their hearts were thrilling with the rapture each found in the near presence of the other. the glamour of romance was like a golden mist over all the scene, irradiating each leaf and flower, softening the bird-calls to fairy flutings, draping the nakedness of distant rugged peaks, bearing gently the purling of the limpid brook along which the path ran in devious complacence. often, indeed, the lovers' way led them into the shallows, through which their bare feet splashed unconcerned. the occasional prismatic flash of a leaping trout in the deeper pools caught their eyes. so, presently, the girl was moved to speak--with visible effort, very shyly, for the expression of her love in words was a thing unfamiliar, difficult. "i sha'n't have nobody to make flies fer now," she said dully. "i jest hain't a-goin' arter the trout fer fun no more till ye comes back." zeke would have answered, but he checked the words at his lips, lest the trembling of his voice might betray a feeling deemed inconsistent with manliness. they went forward in silence, a-quiver with desire each of the other, yet mute with the forced repression of custom. now, too, the sorrow of the parting so close at hand, colored their mood more and more, so that the golden glamour first dimmed and then changed into a sinister pall which overhung all the loveliness of the morning. at a turn in the path, where it topped a rise, before descending a long slope to the highway, zeke came to a standstill. the girl paused obediently beside him. he fumbled in a pocket awkwardly, and drew forth a tiny square of coffee-colored stone, roughly lined, which he held out toward his companion. the tracery of the crystal formed a maltese cross. the girl expressed no surprise. she accepted the token with a grave nod as he dropped it into her palm, and she remained gazing down at it with eyes hidden under the heavy white lids and long, curving lashes of shadowy brown. zeke spoke, very earnestly: "hit's fer good luck, tiny--fer good luck to he'p ye while we're apart. mebby, hit 'll git in hits work by softenin' the hardness o' yer gran'pap's heart agin me." in truth, the concentration of his thought on the fragment of stone had been enough of itself to give a talisman occult potence. that concentration of desire for the girl's well-being was not merely of this moment. it had been with him constantly during long hours of tedious clambering yesterday, when he followed the channel of garden creek through its tortuous course among the ravines of the blue ridge, through the narrow defile of the devil's garden, sunless, strewn with rubble of boulders, with a chaos of shattered rock masses--débris, superstition said, of cataclysm--of the crucifixion, when the mountain crests tore themselves asunder, and cast their pinnacles into the abyss for rage and grief. the searcher had climbed on and on, until he reached the nook sacred to the crystals. for concerning these, also, the superstition had its say, and told that the little pieces of stone, with the cross marked on each, were, in fact, the miraculously preserved tears shed by the fairies of these fastnesses in the dread hour of the saviour's anguish. the lover had sought long for a crystal that should be perfect. now that it lay within the girl's hand, he was content of his toil. surely, whatever the truth concerning its origin, it was a holy thing, for the emblem it bore. it would serve to shield her against aught evil that might threaten--even the grandfather's enmity against him, which set a barrier between them and happiness. the crystal would abide with her in sign of his love's endurance, strong to save her and to cherish her against any ill. he sighed with relief, when she raised the crystal, and dropped it within her bosom. still, as always, fearful of showing emotion too openly, zeke hastened to introduce a new topic. he took from a pocket a book of twelve two-cent postage stamps, to secure which he had trudged the four miles from his mother's cabin to the cherry lane post-office. the book, in its turn, was proffered to plutina, who accepted it in mild bewilderment. the lover explained: "honey," he said, without any embarrassment over the fact, "ye knows my ole mammy hain't edicated, an' i want ye to write for her once a month, arter i write to tell ye whar i'll be." the girl nodded tacit acceptance of the trust, and consigned the stamps to a resting place alongside the crystal. and then, after a little, she spoke heavily: "i reckon as how you-all better be a-joggin', zeke." for answer, the lad caught the girl in his arms, and gave her a kiss on either cheek--the hearty, noisy smacks of the mountaineer's courting. but, in the next instant, he drew her close in an embrace that crushed the two warm bodies to rapture. his lips met hers, and clung, till their beings mingled. afterward, he went from her voicelessly. voicelessly, she let him go.... there could be no words to comfort the bitterness of such parting. chapter ii when he was come within view of joines' mill and store on roaring river, zeke halted again for a final look back toward the wild home land, which he was now leaving for the first time. the blackness of his mood after parting with the girl had passed, though melancholy still made him its own. the resilience of youth was turning his spirits again toward the hopes that had inspired this going forth from his own familiar little wilderness into the vast and unknown wilderness of the world beyond. as he stared out at the scattered peaks, reared like conning towers over the sprawling medley of ridge and valley, a throb of fondness shook his heart. it was not sprung from esthetic appreciation of the wild and romantic landscape, though this had been sufficient to justify the stir of feeling. his sensibility was aroused by the dear friendliness of all the scene, where hollows and heights had been his constant haunts through all the days of childhood and adolescence until this hour. of a sudden, he realized as never before a profound tenderness for this country of beetling crags and crystal rivers, of serene spaces and balsamic airs. hitherto, he had esteemed the neighborhood in some dull, matter-of-course fashion, such as folk ordinarily give to their native territory. but, in this instant of illumination, on the eve of separating himself from the place, love of it surged within him. this was his home, the dwelling of his dear ones. he felt toward it a quick reverence as for something strangely sacred. his eyes went to the great bulk of stone mountain, which jutted just before him to the east, its league of naked rock lying like some monstrous guardian of the place. somehow, the dignity of the massive curving cliffs soothed him, heartened him anew. the immutability of the huge mound of stone was a prophecy. through the ages, it had maintained its ward steadfastly. so it would remain. a gush of confidence washed away the last of the watcher's depression. he could go on his way undismayed. these things here that were so dear to him would abide his return. the old mother and plutina would rest secure against his homecoming. the time, after all, would not be long. meantime, there was the great adventure. zeke whirled, and trudged blithely onward. opportunity had come to zeke higgins, and he had not hesitated to seize it. his desire for a larger life than that of the tiny, scrabbly mountain farm had been early excited; it had persisted; it had increased steadily, though the possibility of its realization had seemed remote. stark poverty demanded that he remain to coax a scant living from the soil for his mother. yet, his determination was fixed. he got some smattering of education, along with plutina, from a kindly quaker who came among the "boomers" of the blue ridge as a missionary school-teacher. thus, zeke learned surprisingly much. his thirsty brain took up knowledge as a sponge takes up water. so great was his gratitude to this instructor that, when the stranger was revealed as a revenue officer questing illicit stills, zeke, despite inherited prejudice, guided the hunted man by secret trails over the mountains into virginia, and thereby undoubtedly saved a life. indeed, the disappearance of the officer was so well contrived that the mountaineers themselves for a time did not suspect the fact of the escape. there is a great basin in the rock on the north side of stone mountain. it has been hollowed out through centuries by the little stream that comes leaping madly down the ledges. the cauldron has a sinister repute. it is deemed the sepulchre of more than one spy, cast down into the abyss from the mountain's brim. it was generally believed that the false school-teacher was of the number. somehow, long afterward, report had it that the man was alive. rumor implicated zeke as having had a share in the fellow's escape. old dick siddon, plutina's grandfather, heard. he had hated the "revenuers" always. since the death of his only son at their hands, his hatred had become a mania. he was a strong man, fierce in anger. when he bade his grandchild dismiss her favored suitor, she feigned obedience. she, and zeke as well, knew the futility of fighting the old man's prejudices. but, with the optimism of youth, the lovers hoped for happiness. a little older, they might at least defy the hostile guardian. in the meantime, zeke was determined to attain material prosperity during the period of waiting. then, richard sutton came into the mountains of the blue ridge. he chanced on zeke, made use of the lad as a guide. soon mutual liking and respect developed. sutton was a manufacturer of tree-nails--the wooden pins used in ships' timbers. here in the ranges was an abundance of locust timber, the best for his need. and there was much talk of a branch railway to come. his alert business imagination saw that a factory located at the source of supply would be advantageous. he saw, too, the capacity for development in his young friend. zeke's familiarity with the region might be valuable--more valuable still his popularity and the respect accorded him in the community. sutton suggested to the young man that he should come to new york presently, there to learn the details of manufacture, with the prospect of return, later on, to manage the business in the mountains. naturally, the project was splendid to zeke's ambition. his only fear had been lest his departure be delayed by lack of money, for pride would not let him confess his extremity to sutton. there must be some cash in hand for his mother's support, until he should be able to send her more. then, as he fretted, opportunity favored him anew, for a surveying party came to run a railroad branch north to stone mountain. he was employed as ax-man and assistant cook. his wages solved the difficulty, so far as his mother's need was concerned. for the rest, he took only a small sum to his own use, since he was minded to work his way north on shipboard from norfolk. it was in accord with such high hopes that this may morning found him tramping, barefooted, into joines' store, with the black oilcloth valise slung from his shoulder. the halt here was a necessary feature in zeke's itinerary. on a previous visit to the store, he had purchased a pair of serviceable, if rather ungainly, shoes. since he would have no occasion for their use at home, he had saved himself the trouble of carrying them to and fro. "i reckon i'll take them-thar shoes o' mine," he said to the grizzled proprietor, after an exchange of friendly greetings with the few loungers present. these were well aware of his planned departure, though ignorant of his definite aims. "ye hain't a-goin' to put 'em on yit, be ye?" the storekeeper inquired, solicitously. "not till i git to north wilkesboro'," zeke answered, to the obvious relief of the assembly, as he opened the bag. while he was busy stowing the shoes, the onlookers commented cynically on the follies of fashion. "an' i've hearn tell," one concluded, "that durn-nigh everybody done war shoes in the city, all year roun'." perhaps the young man felt a pleasant glow of superiority in reflecting on the fact that such following of city fashion would soon distinguish him. but his innocent vanity was not to be unduly flattered. "ca'late to stay away till ye've made yer fortin, in course, sonny?" one of the older men suggested. he enjoyed some local reputation as a wag, the maintenance of which so absorbed his energies that his wife, who had lost whatever sense of humor she might once have had, toiled both indoors and out. "why, yes, o' course," zeke replied unsuspectingly. "better kiss we-uns good-by, sonny," was the retort. "you-all 'll be gone quite some time." the sally was welcomed with titters and guffaws. zeke was red to the ears with mortification and anger, as he shut the valise, shouldered it, and strode to the door. but even in the time of that passing, he mastered his mood in a measure. he had no wish to make his farewell to these neighbors in bitterness of spirit. so, at the door, he turned and grinned amiably on the group. "i want pleasant things to remember hyarabouts, all thet-thar long time i got to be away," he said, with a quizzical drawl; "so i kain't be a-kissin' o' ye none. my stomick hain't none so strong nohow," he added, with the coarseness that usually flavored the humor of the countryside. then, abruptly, the smile left his lips; the lines of his face hardened; the hazel eyes brightened and widened a little. his low, slow voice came firmly, with a note of tense earnestness. it was as if he spoke to himself, rather than to the slouching men, who regarded him curiously. "i hain't leavin' all this-hyar 'cause i don't love hit," he declared. "i do love hit, an' i aim to come back by-an-bye--i shore do!" forthwith, embarrassed anew by this unmeditated outburst, he hurried off, amid an astonished silence which was broken at last by the storekeeper. "thet-thar zeke higgins," he ventured, somewhat indistinctly through his matting of whiskers, "i swow if he hain't got right feelin's, fer all he's so durn peart." and his cronies nodded assent. as he pressed onward, the adventurer quickly regained his poise. the novelty of the situation thrilled him agreeably. his thoughts were crowded with imaginings of the strange things to come. ambitious vision of himself successful among the city's throngs made his pulses beat faster. he felt that he had within him the power to achieve something worth while in the world. certainly, he would not fail for lack of striving. but no triumph elsewhere could ever wean him from his love for the blue ridge--for his home country. yes, it was as he had said there in the store: he would come back. he would come back to the cabin in the "cove" under the shadows of stone mountain--back to the old mother, back to plutina. a warmth of exquisite tenderness vibrated through him, as his hope leaped to that homecoming, to the time when once again the girl should rest clinging on his bosom. and a great peace lay under all his joy of anticipation. his love knew no doubt. she had given her heart to him. through his every wandering, whatever might betide, her love would be with him, to comfort him in sorrow, to crown him in happiness. a bird's song recalled the lilt of her laughter. he saw again the tremulous curving of her mouth, red against the fine warm pallor of her face at parting. passion welled in him. he halted yet once again, and stood with face suffused, gazing back. it was as if he were swayed by a sudden secret sense that warned him of her misery in this hour of his exaltation--her misery where she lay prone under the tangle of laurel by garden creek, sobbing out that anguish which is the penalty woman must pay for love. zeke's eyes fastened anew on the rounded bulk of stone mountain's cliffs. the immutability of them, and the majesty, relieved the tenseness of his mood. he resumed his way serenely.... but plutina wept on, unassuaged. when he drew near to north wilkesboro', where he proposed to make a first essay in railway journeying, zeke seated himself under the shade of a grove of persimmon-trees by the wayside, there painfully to encumber his feet with the new shoes. as he laced these, he indulged in soliloquy, after a fashion bred of his lonely life, on a subject born of his immediate surroundings. "i hain't noways superstitious," he mused complacently, "but this grove ain't no nice place, bein' as it must be a nigger cemetery. uncle dick siddon says they's always niggers buried whar they's persimmon-trees, an' he says the niggers come first. an' uncle dick, he ought to know, bein' he's eighty-odd-year old. anyhow, it seems reasonable, 'cause niggers do swaller the stuns when they eats persimmons, an' so, o' course, jest nacher'ly the trees 'll spring up where the niggers git planted. so they'd be ha'nts like's not. but i hain't superstitious--not a mite. mr. sutton, he said such things as ha'nts an' witch-doctors an' such was all plumb foolishness. still, my mammy has seen--" he fell silent, recalling old wives' tales of fearsome things seen and heard of nights. the shoes adjusted, he took from the black bag a holster, which sheltered a formidable-appearing colt's revolver. having made sure that the weapon was loaded and in perfect order, zeke returned it to the holster, which he put on snugly under the left arm-pit. these final preparations complete, he got up, and hastened into the town. one bit more of his musings he spoke aloud, just before he entered the main street: "no, i hain't superstitious. but, by crickey! i'm plumb tickled i giv plutiny thet fairy cross. they say them stones is shore lucky." at the railway station, zeke asked for a ticket to norfolk. "want a return-trip ticket?" the friendly station-agent suggested. he supposed the young mountaineer was taking a pleasure excursion to the city. but zeke shook his head defiantly, and spoke with utter forgetfulness of his experience in joines' store. "no," he declared stoutly, "i hain't a-comin' back till i've made my fortin." "you'll be a long time gone from this-here state o' wilkes," the agent vouchsafed dryly. he would have said more, but his shrewd eyes saw in this young man's expression something that bade him pause, less sceptical. the handsome and wholesome face showed a strength of its own in the resolute curving nose and the firmly-set lips and the grave, yet kindly, eyes, with a light of purposeful intelligence glowing within their clear deeps. the tall form, broad of shoulder, deep of chest, narrow of hip, though not yet come to the fulness of maturity, was of the evident strength fitted to toil hugely at the beck of its owner's will. the agent, conscious of a puny frame that had served him ill in life's struggle, experienced a half-resentment against this youth's physical excellence. he wondered, if, after all, the boast might be justified by the event. "train in ten minutes," he said curtly, as he pushed out the ticket. so, presently, zeke, found himself seated for the first time on the red plush seat of a railway carriage. the initial stage of his journey was ended; the second was begun. chapter iii the right of way from north wilkesboro' to greensboro' runs through a region where every vista delights the eye with wild and romantic scenes. the rails follow the course of the upper reaches of the yadkin river, with swift succession of vicious curves and heavy grades. the twistings of the road-bed, so advantageous for presenting the varied loveliness of the wilds, were by way of being a real torture to the young adventurer, who sat in seeming stolidity near the rear door of the smoking-car, with the black bag between his feet. even experienced travelers found the lunges of the train trying to their nerves as it shot at speed around "hairpin" bends, or hurled itself to the fall of a steeper descent. to zeke, who for the first time knew the roar and jolt of such travel, this trip was a fearsome thing. to sit movelessly there, while the car reeled recklessly on the edge of abysses, was a supreme trial of self-control. the racking peril fairly sickened him. a mad impulse of flight surged in him. yet, not for worlds would he have let anyone guess his miserable alarm. nevertheless, one there was who apprehended in some measure the ordeal through which the mountaineer was passing--happily, a kindly observer. an elderly man, across the aisle from zeke, regarded his fellow passenger with particular intentness. it seemed to him that, in some vague way, the clean-cut face was familiar. his curiosity thus aroused, he perceived the tenseness of expression and attitude, and shrewdly suspected the truth. it was with benevolent intent, rather than for the gratification of inquisitiveness, that he finally got up and seated himself in the vacant place alongside the younger man. zeke's perturbation caused him to start nervously at this advent of a stranger, but a single glance into the wrinkled, yet hale, face of the man reassured him. the visitor's amiable character showed plainly in his dim blue eyes, which twinkled merrily. moreover, there was a sure witness of worth in the empty sleeve, pinned to his left breast, on which showed the cross of honor. the humor lurking in the eyes was grotesquely manifested in his first address: "this-hyar railroad hain't no fitten one fer beginners," he announced, with a chuckle. "hit's plumb likely to make a squirrel into a nut." zeke smiled, somewhat ruefully. he understood the play on words since "boomer," the mountaineers' own name for the red squirrel, is often applied to themselves. but the distraction afforded by the garrulous veteran was a relief. a new spur was given to their mutual interest when, after telling his name, it was discovered that his father had been a company-mate with seth jones, the veteran, in the twelfth north carolina volunteers. the old man's curiosity was highly gratified by this explanation of the inherited likeness that had puzzled him, and he waxed reminiscent and confidential. the diversion was welcome to his listener, where doubtless many another might have found the narrative of by-gone campaigns tedious in this prolix retelling. ultimately, indeed, the youth's sympathies were aroused by jones' tale of misfortune in love, wherein his failure to write the girl he left behind him had caused her first to mourn him as dead, and eventually to marry her second choice. "but i've jest got scrumptious news," he exclaimed, his rheumy eyes suddenly clear and sparkling. "seems as how fanny's a widder. so, i'm a-goin' to try my luck, an' no shelly-shallyin', now i've got her located arter a mighty lot o' huntin'. yes, sir, sonny," he concluded, with a guffaw, "old as i be, i'm a-goin' a-courtin'. if i ever see ye ag'in, i'll tell ye how it comes out. i s'pose i seem plumb old fer sech foolishness to a boy like you be, but some hearts keep young till they stop. i'm pretty spry fer my age, too, if i do say so as shouldn't." zeke was not so surprised by the old man's hopes as he might have been, were it not for the example of plutina's grandfather, who, somewhat beyond four-score, was still scandalously lively, to the delectation of local gossip. but, though after the departure of jones at a junction, zeke reflected half-amusedly on the rather sere romances of these two ancient romeos, he was far from surmising that, at the last, their amorous paths would cross. there was still further harrowing experience for zeke after reaching the southern railway's terminal on the pier at pinner's point, in virginia, for here he was hurried aboard the ferry-boat, and was immediately appalled by the warning blast of the whistle. few bear that strident din undismayed. this adventurer had never heard the like--only the lesser warning of locomotives and the siren of a tannery across twenty miles of distance. now, the infernal belching clamor broke in his very ears, stunning him. he quivered under the impact, stricken to the soul for seconds of shock. but the few careless eyes that chanced to scan the mountaineer noted no faltering in face or form. he stood to all appearance serenely, easily poised, his attitude replete with the grace of physical power, his mouth firmly closed, his widely-set eyes unwavering. even the cudgel, and the black bag still dangling from it, could not offset a certain aloof dignity that masked distress by stern effort of will. nothing further occurred for a little to afflict the traveler's unaccustomed nerves, and he soon found himself pleasurably absorbed in contemplation of the novel surroundings. the boat was nearing the norfolk landing when his eyes fell on a dog, held in leash by a young woman. both the beast and its mistress commanded his instant attention, in which wonder was the chief emotion. the dog itself was a boston bull-terrier, which was a canine species wholly strange to the mountaineer's experience, limited as it had been to hounds and mongrels of unanalyzable genealogy. the brute's face had an uncanny likeness to a snub-nosed, heavy-jowled "boomer" whom zeke detested, and he eyed the creature askance by reason of the resemblance. "hit's plumb man-faced," was his verdict. "i shore prefer 'em jest plain dawg." his eyes went then from the leash to the girl holding it, and he hardly restrained a gasp, in which admiration was mingled with amazement. the ordinary observer would have seen only a pretty girl, of the fluffy blond type, smartly tailored in blue serge, with the skirt decorously slit. but zeke saw a vision from another world than that of the slatternly mountain women, whose toil left them neither opportunity nor ambition for nicety in dress, which, indeed, was finally prohibited by ignorance as well as poverty. this girl stood out in startling relief, marvelous revelation from the new world he was entering. slowly, with concentration, the young man scrutinized the vision, noting every detail, from the natty turban with its swaying feather wand to the daintily pointed ties, above which were to be glimpsed trim silk-clad ankles. yet, the novel charm of her failed utterly to disturb the loyalty of his heart. his hungry soul found exquisite satisfaction in the spectacle of feminine refinement thus presented for the first time, but his devotion to the roughly garbed mountain girl was in no wise imperiled. on the contrary, his imagination busied itself with an effort to picture plutina thus splendidly arrayed. "i 'low she's plumb handsome," he meditated. "but, shucks! tiny beats her holler. in them duds, she'd have her skun a mile.... but thet-thar man-faced dawg! i'd shore hate like pizen to be found daid along with thet ornery pup." as he mused, no hint came out of the future as to the time when, in very truth, he would be close to death, and that same dog an actor in the drama, one to be deeply esteemed, not contemned. but that time was not yet. in fact, the immediate future was not destined to remove his prejudice against the bull-terrier. on the contrary! the fixity of zeke's staring penetrated the girl's consciousness. she turned abruptly, and her blue eyes met his in a cool glance that seemed to pass through him and on, as if he were something quite invisible, altogether beneath notice. zeke felt the rebuke keenly, though innocent of intentional offense. the instincts of gentlemanly blood from which he was somewhere distantly descended made him realize his fault in manners, though he had had no guidance from experience. the ready blush burned hot on brow and cheeks; he dropped his gaze confusedly to the dog. even the beast, he perceived, reprobated his conduct. it was staring up at him fiercely from red eyes, and the hackles stood erect, though it did not growl. evidently, it resented undue attention to its mistress. there was a movement forward of the passengers, as the ferry-boat drew into its slip. zeke advanced with the others, following close behind the girl and the dog, which strained at the leash in order still to stare menacingly at the young man. then, without warning, the action became swift and violent. the ferry-boat crashed against the yielding walls of the slip. zeke, unprepared for the shock, was thrown from his balance. one of the heavy new shoes smashed down on a paw. the dog sprang and snapped. the jaws missed, because the girl tugged at the leash in the same second. zeke instinctively kicked at the brute in self-defense. his foot took the animal fairly in the jaw, and lifted it from the floor, just as the girl turned. she cried out in shrill anger at this rough stranger's wanton attack on her pet, for so she interpreted the event. she maintained her hold on the leash bravely, lest worse follow. but her strength was insufficient to restrain the creature of fighting breed. it lunged forward with such suddenness that both its mistress and its enemy were taken unawares. the girl was dragged in tow. zeke would have leaped aside, but he was too late to escape the encounter, though he mitigated it. the iron jaws clanged shut, but in the slack of the victim's sturdy jeans, instead of in the flesh. the massive mouth was locked vise-like. because of the cloth's sturdiness, the dog swung clear of the floor. the girl still strove frantically, though vainly, at the leash, shrieking commands which were unheeded. zeke, confused, chagrined, ashamed, wrathful, shook himself violently to be free, without avail. the other passengers scurried forth, with a panic cry of "mad dog!" zeke's wrath mounted. he had had little training in self-restraint, and his passions were of the primitive sort. now, abruptly, the lesser emotions were overwhelmed by the might of his rage. he was conscious only of the humiliating fact that this hideous man-faced dog had fastened itself on him, and there hung. zeke bent and twisted, his two hands on the creature's jaws. then he set himself to wrench them apart. his strength, great as it was availed nothing against that remorseless grip. the resistance goaded him to fury. he gave over the effort to prise the teeth apart, and put all his might into a frenzied pull. there were instants of resistance, then the hissing noise of rending cloth. a huge fragment of the stout jeans was torn out bodily. zeke hurled the animal violently from him. the leash was snapped from the girl's hands. the dog's body shot across the cabin, hurtled against the wall. the indomitable brute tumbled to the floor, and lay there stunned. but even in defeat, he carried down with him between rigid jaws the blue-jeans banner of victory. with a bound, the girl crossed the space, and fell on her knees beside the inert form, crooning over it pitifully. in the same moment, the gust of anger in zeke ended. he stood motionless, except for his quickened breathing, with eyes fast on the girl. remorse stabbed him as he realized her distress, for which he was responsible. he went toward her hesitatingly, forgetful of bag and stick, which had fallen at the outset of the mêlée. he ventured to address her, stammering confusedly. "i 'low he hain't daid, nor nothin' like thet," he said; "jest takin' a nap-like." his wrath gave a final flicker, as he looked down at the ugly face cushioned within the girl's hands. "an ornery critter like thet-thar pup ought to be kept shet-up," he concluded spitefully. the girl lifted a face in which blue eyes were flaming. "it's you ought to be shut up, you horrible man!" she cried. "and you will be. i'll see to that." "now, don't be plumb foolish," zeke expostulated. "the varmint hain't hurt none--not a mite, ma'am." "beast!" the girl ejaculated, concisely. zeke retorted with high indignation. "i jest nacher'ly hain't a-goin' to stand still an' say 'thank ye!' while i'm bein' et up piecemeal by no dawg--specially one with a face like his'n." he would have said more, but paused with mouth agape, eyes widening, his expression horror-stricken. for, just then, the bull-terrier snorted loudly, and unclosed its red eyes. the clenched jaws, too, relaxed. thus released, the broad strip of jeans fluttered to the floor. its movement caught zeke's gaze. he recognized the cloth. the ghastly truth burst in his brain. in an agony of embarrassment, he clasped his hands to that portion of his person so fearfully despoiled. moved by his sudden silence, impressed perhaps by some subtle impact of this new and dreadful emotion on his part, the girl looked up. she, too, had noted subconsciously the fall of the cloth from the dog's jaws. now as she saw the young man's face of fire and observed his peculiar posture, she understood. her own crimson cheeks rivaled those of the afflicted one. she turned and bent low over her reviving pet. her shoulders were shaking, zeke was shuddering. chapter iv the conventions of dress are sometimes pestilential. if any doubt this truth let him remember the nightmares wherein his nudity made torment. and, while remembering the anguish such lack of clothing has occasioned in dreams, let him think with pity on the suffering of zeke whose plight was real. it was in sooth, a predicament to strain the _savoir faire_ of the most polished courtier. perhaps, the behavior of the mountaineer was as discreet as any permitted by the unfortunate circumstances, and could hardly have been improved on by the admirable crichton himself. he simply retained an immobile pose, facing the girl, with his whole soul concentrated in desire that the earth should split asunder to engulf him. the tide of his misery was at its flood, so that it grew no worse when some deck-hands thrust the forward doors open, and a policeman bounded into the cabin, drawn revolver in hand. but the bull-terrier was to escape the fate unjustly inflicted on so many of its fellows. the girl, crouching over the dog, barred the policeman's purpose. "get away from him, miss," the officer directed. "he ain't safe, even if he's quiet. i know mad dogs. a bullet's the only medicine." "chub isn't mad in the least," the girl snapped; "though he's been through enough to make him crazy--and so have i. if you're so anxious to do your duty, officer," she added, bitterly, "why don't you arrest that horrid, hulking man over there?" she pointed a neatly gloved, accusing finger at the motionless zeke, who was staring fixedly at the point where he hoped the abyss might yawn. "what's he done?" the policeman inquired gruffly. he was miffed over this lost opportunity. the slayer of a mad dog is always mentioned as a hero in the newspapers. the girl stood up. the dog, at the end of the leash, also stood up, and shook itself. it had, to all seeming, recovered fully. it regarded zeke intently from its red eyes. but it did not growl. it was plain that the bull-terrier was thinking deeply, and that zeke was the center around which thought revolved. but, if the dog did not growl, its mistress showed no lessening of hostility. she explained succinctly to the representative of the law: "he assaulted my dog--with his feet and his hands." "and maybe he bit him, too!" the policeman suggested, with heavy sarcasm. he could not forgive this pretty girl for foiling his heroism. the girl did not heed. her white brow was wrinkled in a frown. she was recalling, with an effort, her somewhat meager knowledge of legal terms. "i shall charge him with homicidal assault," she announced firmly. "i hope you'll tell that to the sarge," the officer chuckled, his pique forgotten in appreciation of the girl's naïve announcement. "i'll take this chap to the station-house. you'll appear against him, miss?" the girl nodded emphatically. he turned on zeke, frowning. "come on quiet, young feller, if you know what's good for ye." his practiced eye studied the young mountaineer's physique respectfully. zeke made no movement, nor answered nor lifted his eyes. the policeman attributed this demeanor to recalcitrancy. he put the revolver in his pocket, drew his club and took a step forward. yet, he sensed something unfamiliar in the situation; the stiff posture of the arms and hands of the culprit attracted his attention. he felt vaguely that something of a painful nature was toward. he stopped short, puzzled, and spoke: "what's the matter with ye, anyhow?" he demanded fiercely. "hain't ye got any tongue?" then, at last, zeke raised his eyes. they went first to the forward door, to make sure that the girl had vanished. there were only two mildly interested deck-hands in the cabin, beside the policeman, though soon the place would be filled with newly arriving passengers. he looked at the officer squarely, with despair in his expression: "hit ain't my tongue--hit's my pants!" he said huskily. "hit's the seat of my pants. hit's--hit's thar!" he nodded toward the strip of jeans left on the floor by the dog. the policeman stared at the fragment of cloth, then his gaze returned appreciatively to the victim's hands. he threw his head back and bellowed with laughter, echoed raucously by the deck-hands. zeke waited grimly until the merriment lessened a little. "i hain't a-stirrin' nary a step to no jail-house," was his morose announcement, "unless somebody gits me some pants with a seat to 'em." the policeman liked his ease too well to fight needlessly, and he had an idea that the thews and sinews of the boomer might make a good account of themselves. moreover, he was by way of being a kindly soul, and he apprehended in a measure the young man's misery. "can you dig up a pair of jumpers?" he asked the deck-hands. "you can have 'em back by calling at the station to-morrow." in this manner, the difficulty was bridged. clad in the dingy and dirty borrowed garment, the burning shame fell from zeke, and he was once again his own man. nevertheless, he avoided looking toward the piece of torn cloth lying on the floor, as he went out with the policeman. he only wished that he might with equal ease leave behind all memory of the lamentable episode. zeke's tractability increased the favorable impression already made on the officer by the mountaineer's wholesome face and modest, manly bearing. it was evident that this was no ordinary rake-helly boomer come to town. there was, too, the black bag to witness that the prisoner was an honest voyager. on the way to the station, the constable listened with unusual patience to zeke's curt account of the misadventure, and the narrative was accepted as truth--the more readily by reason of some slight prejudice against the dog, which had failed as an exploiter of heroism. in consequence, the policeman grew friendly, and promised intercession in his captive's behalf. this was the more effective when, on arrival at the station-house, it was learned that the girl with the dog had not appeared. nor was there sign of her after a period of waiting. the sergeant at the desk decided that there could be no occasion to hold the prisoner. but he frowned on the deadly weapon, which the usual search had revealed. "'twon't do for you to go totin' that cannon promiscuous," he declared. "you shore don't need a gun--you shore do need breeches. what's the answer?... hock the gun, and buy some pants." thus simply did an alert mind solve all difficulties of the situation. so in the end, zeke issued safely from his first bout with mischance and found himself well content, for his dress now was more like that of the men about him. the new trousers were full length, which the jeans had not been, and the creases down the legs were in the latest style. the salesman had so stated, and zeke observed with huge satisfaction that the stiffness of the creases seemed to mark the quality of the various suits visible in the streets. and his own creases were of the most rigid! zeke for the first time in his life, felt that warm thrill which characterizes any human integer, whether high or low, when conscious of being especially well dressed. followed an interval of loitering. the sights of the town formed an endless panorama of wonder to the lad's eager vision. though he was a year past the age of man's estate, this was his first opportunity of beholding a town of any size, of seeing face to face things of which he had heard a little, had read more. his fresh, receptive mind scanned every detail with fierce concentration of interest, and registered a multitude of vivid impressions to be tenaciously retained in memory. and ever with him, as he roamed the streets, went a tall slender girl, barefooted, garbed in homespun, with great dark brown eyes that looked tenderly on him from beneath the tumbled bronze masses of her hair. no passer-by saw her, but the mountaineer knew her constant presence, and with her held voiceless communion concerning all things that he beheld. his heart exulted proudly over the bewildering revelations of many women, both beautiful and marvelously clad in fine raiment--for this girl that walked with him was more radiantly fair than any other. it was late afternoon when, finally, zeke aroused himself to think of the necessities of his position. then, after a hasty and economical meal at a lunch counter near the water-front, he made haste to the pier, where his attention was at once riveted on an old dominion liner, which was just backing out into the river. he watched the great bulk, fascinated, while it turned, and moved away down the harbor, to vanish beyond sewall's point, on its way toward hampton roads. immediately afterward, his attention was attracted to a much smaller steamer, which drew in on the opposite side of the wharf. there chanced to be no one else near, and, as the boat slid into the slip, a man in the bow hurled a coil of rope toward zeke, with an aim so accurate that it fell across zeke's shoulder. "don't dodge it, you lubber!" the man roared, in answer to the mountaineer's instinctive movement. "haul it in, an' make fast to the punchin'." zeke obeyed readily enough, hauled in the hawser, and made the loop fast over the piling. at the same moment, he saw two negroes, blacker from soot and grime than nature had made them, who leaped down from the deck, and scampered out of sight. he heard the captain in the pilot-house shouting down the tube. "there go your----nigger stokers on the run." zeke could both see and hear the man in the engine-room, who vowed profanely that he would ship a pair of white men, to sail before ten that night. it seemed to the listener that the situation might develop to his advantage. when, presently, the captain descended to the dock, zeke made bold to accost that red-faced and truculent-appearing person. much to his surprise, his request for work met with an amiable reply. the captain verified what zeke already knew, that the engineer had need of men, and bade the inquirer get aboard and offer himself. in the engine-room, the harried chief scowled on the intruder. "what the devil do you want?" he cried harshly. but zeke's purpose was too earnest to be put down by mere ungraciousness. "work," he replied with a smile. something in the applicant's aspect mitigated the engineer's asperity. "ever fire a boiler?" he questioned, more affably. "yes, an' no," zeke answered; "not any real steam b'iler. but, when hit comes to keepin' a hick'ry fire under a copper kittle, an' not scorchin' the likker, wall, i 'lows as how i kin do hit. an' when it comes to makin' o' sorghum m'lasses, i hain't never tuk off my hat to nobody yit. fer the keepin' o' proper temp'rature folks says, i'm 'bout's good's anybody in wilkes." "humph!--boomer," the engineer grunted, and there was silence for a moment. when next he spoke, his manner was kindly. "those niggers of mine skedaddled 'cause they're lazy and worthless. but the stoke-hole is hell, all right. it ain't no place for a youngster like you. i'll hustle round to the gin-mills an' get hold of a pair of tough guys. but there's something else," he went on, as zeke's face fell. "if you can make sorghum molasses and moonshine without scorchin' 'em, you'll fill the bill, i reckon. we cruise off the coast for menhaddin--fat backs--for the oil in 'em. we carry steam-jacket kettles. i've got a green man now who's no good. i'll fire him and take you on. thirty a month and your board--more by-and-by, if you suit." zeke, elated at this opportunity, felt, nevertheless, that honesty required of him some further explanation. but the engineer dismissed consideration of the future. "a month will give you enough for your fare to new york. if you ain't pressed for time, a voyage will do you good. but don't let the captain get a sight of that black bag, or it'll go overboard. sailors are afeared of 'em," he chuckled. "_the neuse_, my old ship, ran into _the blanche_ off creek beacon, in a fog, and sunk her. we rescued officers and crew, but the captain--smith, his name was--couldn't stop cussin' 'cause he'd allowed a nigger mammy to go aboard as a passenger along with her old black bag, which was the why of the wreck, 'cording to his way of thinking. took his friends nigh onto a year, to convince him that _the neuse_ was to blame for the collision. i suspect he'll always have it on his conscience that he did finally collect damages off our owners." the engineer chuckled again. "stow your bag under your bunk in the fore peak before the captain comes aboard." _the bonita_ was a stanchly built and seaworthy craft with a draft of less than twelve feet under full cargo, which made possible her use of the shorter and smoother inland water-way from norfolk to beaufort, north carolina, where was the factory. zeke, who would remain idle until the first catch of fish, went early to his bunk the first evening aboard, wearied by the long and exciting day. he had, indeed, scarce time to contemplate a guardian vision of plutina ere his senses were locked in slumber, and his next consciousness was of a dim morning light struggling into the gloom of the stuffy peak, and the jolting rhythm of the engine, which announced that the voyage was begun. when he hurried on deck, he was at first disappointed to learn that the boat was still some distance from the open sea, for which he longed with all an inlander's curiosity over the mystery of endless waters. _the bonita_ was now working forward slowly through the old dismal swamp canal, to reach the pasquotank river and albemarle sound. zeke's astonished eyes perceived in every direction only the level, melancholy expanse of the swamp. his sensitive soul found, nevertheless, a strange charm and beauty in the scene. there was space here, even as in the mountains. yet this calm was not of strength, he felt vaguely, like that he had known, but the tranquillity of nature in another, a weaker, less-wholesome mood, apathetic, futile. the thickly dotting cypresses and junipers, bedecked with streaming draperies of spanish moss, touched the vistas with a funereal aspect. the languid movement of the festoons under the breeze was like the sighings of desolation made visible. the dense tangle of the undergrowth stretched everywhere, repellent, unrelieved by the vivid color flashes of the mountain blossoms. stagnant wastes of amber-hued water emphasized the dreariness. zeke's spirits were too exultant to suffer more than a fleeting depression from this first survey of the waste. he realized how unjust his impressions might be when he learned that this seemingly filthy water was highly esteemed. the deck-hand, filling the water barrel from a pail let over the ship's side, explained the swamp water's virtues. "all the capens fill their barrels with it. juniper water cures chills an' fever, an' keeps 'em off if ye hain't got 'em. some says it's better 'n gin for the kidneys." but the deck-hand looked doubtful. zeke, still suspicious because of the unlikeness of this liquid to the crystal-clear element of the mountains, essayed an experimental swallow, then spat disgustedly. "hit may be all right fer med'cine, or yarb tea," was his verdict, "but it needs real water to wash it down." the progress was tediously slow, for a strong southwest wind had come on, which lowered the water in the canal, so that _the bonita_ often went scraping along the bottom, and betimes stuck fast in the mud. when they were come to the lake drummond region, captain lee decided to tie up until a change or falling of the wind, with its consequent rise of water in the channel. at the point where they finally made fast to the bank, there was an old trail, a woods road long abandoned, running off into the jungle. zeke promptly set off to explore this, and almost at once espied a wild turkey; a plump gobbler, feeding in the path before him. there could be no doubt as to the acceptability of such food aboard and zeke hastened back to _the bonita_, where the captain gladly loaned him a rifle. thus equipped, zeke returned to the wilderness trail. he was not surprised to find that the turkey had vanished, nor disheartened, for he was sure that a little patience would bring him in sight of game, and there was leisure a plenty since an interval must elapse after a change in the wind before the deepening of the water. within a half-hour, he shot a turkey from its perch in a cypress. with much satisfaction, zeke swung the gobbler, which was big and fat, over his shoulder, and set out to return. almost at once, however, his steps were arrested by the faint baying of a hound. as he listened, the sound grew louder, as if the dog drove its quarry toward him. the instinct of the chase dominated the mountaineer. he cast down the turkey, and waited, hopeful that a deer or bear might cross the path within range. soon, he heard a noisy crackling of underbrush a little to his right, but near at hand. with the rifle in readiness zeke peered from the concealment of a cypress trunk. but it was neither the lithe leaping form of a deer, nor the uncouth shambling bulk of swamp bear that broke from the cover a moment later. instead, there lurched into view a huge negro. the fugitive's clothing hung in shreds, witness of the cat's-briar claws; his face, from the same cause, was torn and bleeding. the breath wheezed loudly through the open mouth; the sweat ran in streams from the face; the eyes rolled whitely. there was terror in his expression. he carried a thick club. now, as he came to a halt, it was plain to the watcher that the runner's fear had at last driven him to make a stand, when he could flee no further. zeke had no difficulty in understanding the situation sufficiently well. the negro was undoubtedly a criminal who had fled in the hope of refuge from the law in the swamp's secret lurking places. now trailed by the dog, he was brought to bay. zeke determined, as a measure of prudence, to remain inactive until the issue between man and dog should be adjusted. otherwise, he might find himself engaged against both man and beast with only a single bullet to his aid. the querulous cries of the dog here and there showed that the scent had been lost where the negro had splashed through some pool. then, abruptly, a sharp volley announced recovery of the track. a minute later a huge black-and-tan body catapulted from the thicket into the open space of the trail. from his cover, zeke watched excitedly. the negro, who had stood with club swung back ready for the blow, was caught at disadvantage by the pursuer's emergence at an unexpected point. the branches of the thicket projected to prevent a blow. the dog, silent now, hurled itself straight at the man's throat. but the negro, alert to the peril, avoided the charge by a swift spring to the side. zeke heard the great jaws of the beast click shut as it shot harmlessly past its foe; he heard the savage growl with which it whirled to renew the attack. as it leaped a second time the negro's club fell true in a mighty stroke--caught the creature fair on the skull, stopped it in midair, dropped it dead to the ground. zeke's turn in the action was come, at last. even as the negro stood gloating over his victory, the mountaineer, with leveled rifle, stepped from the concealment of the cypress, and cried a sharp command: "drop thet-thar club, an' stand still whar ye be, if ye don't want to be kilt!" the effect on the exultant negro was almost pitiful. where had been the assurance of final escape was now the certainty of capture. the shock of contrasting emotions was too much for the fellow's strength, coarse-fibered and hardened as he was. he stared at zeke with protruding eyes, his face grown gray. his thrilling joy in the slaying of the dog was lost in the black despair of defeat. the club fell from the trembling fingers, and in the next moment the man himself sagged to the ground and crouched whimpering, whining, in a child-like abandon to fatigue and grief. then, presently, while the captor watched in some perplexity, the moaning ceased. in its stead came a raucous rhythm--the sleep of utter exhaustion. a sound of footsteps on the path caught zeke's ear. he turned, and saw close at hand a short, stockily built, swarthy-complexioned man of middle age, who came swinging forward at a lope. the newcomer halted at sight of the mountaineer. "seen anything of a big nigger or a hound passing this way?" he demanded. zeke nodded, gravely. "ye'll find the two of 'em right thar." he raised the rifle, which the other man now observed for the first time, and with it pointed to where, beyond the cypress-tree, the negro huddled, breathing stertorously, beside the dead body of the dog. chapter v dun clouds of tragedy, crimson-streaked with sinister romance, shadow the chronicles of the forty-mile square that makes the dismal swamp. thither, aforetime, even as to-day, men fled into the labyrinthine recesses to escape the justice--or the injustice--of their fellows. runaway slaves sought asylum within its impenetrable and uncharted mazes of thicket and quaking earth, of fetid pool and slithering quicksands. such fugitives came no more after the emancipation. instead of slaves, there were black men who had outraged the law, who fled into the steaming, noxious waste in order to evade the penalty for crime. for a time, these evil-doers were hunted through the tortuous trails in the canebrakes with blood-hounds, even as their predecessors had been. but the kennels of the man-hunting dogs were ravaged by the black tongue, soon after the ending of the civil war. poisoners, too, took toll of the too intelligent brutes. the strain rapidly grew less--became extinct. whereat, the criminals of dismal swamp rejoiced in unholy glee. their numbers waxed. soon, they came to be a serious menace to the peace and safety of the communities that bordered on the infested region. one sufferer from these conditions so resented the depredations of marauders that he bought in england two splendid stag-hounds, keen of scent, intelligent, faithful to their task, strong enough to throttle their quarry, be it deer or man. by the aid of these creatures, many criminals were captured. their owner, by the intrepidity of his pursuit, was given a nickname, "cyclone" brant. the speed and force and resistlessness of him justified the designation. together with his dogs, jack and bruno, he won local fame for daring and successful exploits against the lurking swamp devils. it was this man who now, canvas-clad, with rifle in hand, looked in the direction indicated by zeke. he was dripping wet, plastered with slime of the bogs. for a few seconds, he stood staring in silence. then a little, gasping cry broke from his lips. he strode forward, and fell to his knees beside the body of the dog. he lifted the face of the hound gently in his two hands, and looked down at it for a long time. there was a film of tears in brant's eyes when, at last, he put the head of the dog softly back on the earth, and stood up, and turned toward the mountaineer. he made explanation with simple directness. the negro was a notorious outlaw, for whose capture the authorities of elizabeth city offered a reward of five hundred dollars. half of this sum would be duly paid to zeke. this news stirred the young man to the deeps. to his poverty-stricken experience, the amount was princely. the mere mention of it made privations to vanish away, luxuries to flourish. he had roseate visions of lavish expenditures: a warm coat for the old mother, furbelows for plutina, "straighteners" even, if she would have them. the dreamer blushed at the intimacy of his thought. it did not occur to his frugal soul that now he need not continue on _the bonita_, but might instead go easily to new york by train. he was naïvely happy in this influx of good fortune, and showed his emotion in the deepened color under the tan of his cheeks and in the dancing lights of the steady eyes. "i'm shore plumb glad i kotched him," he said eagerly, "if thar's a right smart o' money in hit. if he's as right-down bad as ye says he is, i'm powerfully sorry i didn't wing 'im 'fore he got yer dawg." brant shook his head regretfully. "it's my fault," he confessed. "i oughtn't to have taken the chance with bruno alone. i should have had jack along, too. with more than one dog, a man won't stand against 'em. he'll take to a tree." he shook off the depression that descended as he glanced down at the stiffening body of the beast. there was a forced cheerfulness in his tones when he continued: "but how did you get into the swamp? i take you to be from the mountains." zeke's manner suddenly indicated no small pride. "i'm a sailor, suh," he explained, with great dignity. "i'm the cookin' chief on the fishin' steamer, _bonita_." brant surveyed the mountaineer with quizzically appraising eyes. "been a sailor long?" he questioned, innocently. "wall, no, i hain't," zeke conceded. his voice was reluctant. "i was only tuk on las' night. i hain't rightly begun sailorin' yit. thet's how i c'd come arter thet gobbler." he pointed to the bird lying at the foot of the cypress. abruptly, his thoughts veered again to the reward. "oh, cracky! jest think of all thet money earned in two minutes! hit's what i come down out o' the mountains fer, an' hit 'pears like i done right. i'd shore be tickled to see all thet-thar money in dimes an' nickels, n' mebby a few quarters thrown in!" "you're tied up near here?" brant inquired. "'bout a mile over," was the answer. "will ye take yer nigger thar first?" "yes, i know captain lee. he'll give me a chance at your gobbler, and then passage to elizabeth city." that same afternoon, _the bonita_ continued her voyage. the captain obligingly made a landing at elizabeth city, where brant lodged his prisoner, and where the gratified zeke stowed in his wallet ten times as much money as he had ever before possessed at one time. naturally, he was in a mood of much self-complacency, for, in addition to the money gain, his adventure had notably increased his prestige aboard ship, where brant's praise for his prompt and efficient action was respectfully accepted. yet, despite his contentment, the mountaineer found himself strangely troubled as he lay in his bunk, after the ship had got under way. it may be that his perturbation had a physical cause, at least in part, for there was more movement now as the vessel slid through the waves of pamlico sound. it was while he tossed restlessly, troubled over this unaccustomed inability to sleep, that there came a memory of the black bag: "i plumb fergot the dum hoodoo!" zeke muttered, in huge disgust. "an' the chief said i must git another the first chance." then he grinned vaingloriously into the darkness of the fore-peak. "but i reckon hit hain't put no cuss on me yit--seein' as how i got a job an' a peck o' money right smack off." presently, however, his nervous mood suggested a sinister possibility. "p'rhaps, it don't work on land--only jest on the sea, or mebby jest whar it happens to be at. hit wa'n't 'long with me when i ketched the nigger. i 'low i ought to 'a' got rid o' the pesky thing like the chief said." zeke realized that sleep was not for him. if he had had any hope otherwise, it was ended when the fog-horn of _the bonita_ wound its melancholy blasts, and other trumpetings began to sound over the waste from near and far. already, by dint of many inquiries, zeke had acquired enough information to know that the mournful noise was the accompaniment of a fog. curious to see, he rose, and felt his way to the small port-hole, through which he sought to peer out into the night. his vision compassed no more than a few fathom's distance; beyond, all was blackness. the port was open, and the cold mist stealing in chilled him. zeke shivered, but an inexplicable disturbance of spirit kept him from the warmth of the blankets. he chose rather to slip on his trousers, and then again to gaze blindly out into the mysterious dark of this new world. he found himself hearkening intently for the varied calls of warning that went wailing hither and yon. the mellow, softly booming, yet penetrant notes of the conch-shells blown by the skippers of smaller craft, came almost soothingly to his ears. all the others, harsher, seemed tocsins of terror. [illustration: _clara kimball young under the direction of lewis j. selznick._ the lovers on stone mountain.] standing there at the port, with the floating drops of mist drenching his face, zeke fell into a waking dream. he was again clambering over the scarped cliffs of stone mountain; beside him plutina. his arm was about her waist, and their hands were clasped, as they crept with cautious, feeling steps amid the perils of the path. for over the lofty, barren summit, the mist had shut down in impenetrable veils. yet, through that murk of vapor, the two, though they moved so carefully, went in pulsing gladness, their hearts singing the old, old, new, new mating song. a mist not born of the sea nor of the mountain, but of the heart, was in the lad's eyes while he remembered and lived again those golden moments in the mountain gloom. it seemed to him for a blessed minute that plutina was actually there beside him in the tiny, rocking space of the fore-peak; that the warmth of her hand-clasp thrilled into the beating of his pulses. though the illusion vanished swiftly, the radiance of it remained, for he knew that then, and always, the spirit of the girl dwelt with him. the mountaineer's interval of peace was rudely ended. a wild volley of blasts from _the bonita's_ whistle made alarum. bells clanged frantically in the engine-room close at hand. a raucous fog-horn clamored out of the dark. to zeke, still dazedly held to thought of the mountains, the next sound was like the crashing down of a giant tree, which falls with the tearing, splitting din of branches beating through underbrush. an evil tremor shook the boat. of a sudden, _the bonita_ heeled over to starboard, almost on her beams' ends. zeke saved himself from falling only by a quick clutch on the open port. from the deck above came a contusion of fierce voices, a strident uproar of shouts and curses. then, _the bonita_ righted herself, tremulously, languidly, as one sore-stricken might sit up, very feebly. the sailors in the fore-peak, with a chorus of startled oaths, leaped from the bunks, and fled to the deck. zeke followed. clinging to a stanchion, the mountaineer could distinguish vaguely, in the faint lights of the lanterns, the bows of a three-masted schooner, which had sheared through the port-side of _the bonita_. the bowsprit hung far over the smaller ship, a wand of doom. the beating of the waves against the boat's side came gently under the rasping, crunching complaint of timber against timber in combat. the schooner's sails flapped softly in the light breeze. zeke, watching and listening alertly, despite bewilderment, heard the roaring commands of a man invisible, somewhere above him, and guessed that this must be the captain of the schooner. he saw the crew of _the bonita_ clambering one after another at speed, up the anchor chain at the bow of the destroyer. he realized that flight was the only road to safety. but, even as he was tensed to dart forward, he remembered his treasure of money under the bunk pillow. on the instant, he rushed to the fore-peak, seized the wallet and the black bag, and fled again to the deck. at the moment when he reappeared, a gust of quickening breeze filled the schooner's sails. the canvas bellied taut. the grinding, clashing clamor of the timbers swelled suddenly. the schooner wrenched herself free, and slipped, abruptly silent, away into the night and the mist. ere zeke reached the rail in his leap, the schooner had vanished. for a minute, he heard a medley of voices. then, while he stood straining his eyes in despair, these sounds lessened--died. the mountaineer stood solitary and forsaken on the deck of a sinking ship. finally, zeke spoke aloud in self-communion. the words rang a little tremulous, for he realized that he was at grips with death. "hit's what i gits fer fergittin'," was his regretful comment. "i reckon, if so be i'd ever got onto thet-thar schooner with this-hyar damn' bag, she'd 'a' sunk, too. or, leastways, they'd have chucked me overboard like jonah, fer causin' the hull cussed trouble with this pesky black bag o' mine." zeke perceived that the doomed vessel was settling by the head. he surmised that time was short. nevertheless, he took leisure for one duty he deemed of prime importance. with all his strength in a vicious heave, he cast the black bag from him into the sea. "i hain't superstitious," he remarked, sullenly; "thet is, not exzackly. an' i reckon i'm gittin' rid o' that conjure satchel a mite late. i guess hit's done hit's damnedest a'ready." inquiries during the leisurely voyaging through the canal had given zeke knowledge concerning the life-belts. now, he buckled one of them about his body hastily, for even his ignorance could not fail to interpret the steady settling of the vessel into the water. the strain of fighting forebears in the lad set him courageous in the face of death. but his blood was red and all a-tingle with the joy of life, and he was very loath to die. his heart yearned for the girl who loved him. his desire for her was a stabbing agony. the thought of his mother's destitution, deprived of him in her old age, was grievous. but his anguish was over the girl--anguish for himself; yet more for her. the drizzle of the fog on his cheeks brought again a poignant memory of the mist that had enwrapped them on the stark rocks of the mountain. a savage revolt welled in him against the monstrous decree of fate. he cried out roughly a challenge to the elements. then, in the next instant, he checked the futile outburst, and bethought him how best to meet the catastrophe. the instinct of flight from the rising waters led zeke to mount the pilot-house. the lanterns shed a flickering light here, and the youth uttered a cry of joy as his eyes fell on the life-raft. the shout was lost in the hissing of steam as the sea rushed in on the boilers. all the lights were extinguished now, save the running lamps with their containers of oil. quickly, the noise from the boiler-room died out, and again there was silence, save for the occasional bourdoning of the horns or the mocking caress of the waves that lapped the vessel's sides--like a colossal serpent licking the prey it would devour betimes. in the stillness, zeke wrought swiftly. he wasted no time over the fastenings. the blade of his knife slashed through the hemp lashings, and the raft lay clear. he made sure that it was free from the possibility of entanglement. then, as the boat lurched sickeningly, like a drunken man to a fall, zeke stretched himself face downward lengthwise of the tiny structure, and clenched his hands on the tubes. there was a period of dragging seconds, while _the bonita_ swayed sluggishly, in a shuddering rhythm. came the death spasm. the stern was tossed high; the bow plunged for the depths. down and down--to the oyster rocks of teach's hole, in pamlico sound. as the vessel sank, the raft floated clear for a moment, then the suction drew it under, buffeted it--spewed it forth. it rode easily on the swirling waters, at last. as the commotion from the ship's sinking ceased, the raft moved smoothly on the surface, rocking gently with the pulse of the sea. zeke, half-strangled, almost torn from his place by the grip of the water in the plunge, clung to his refuge with all the strength that was in him. and that strength prevailed. soon, he could breathe fully once again, and the jaws of the sea gave over their gnawing. after the mortal peril through which he had won, zeke found his case not so evil. the life was still in him, and he voiced a crude phrase of gratefulness to him who is lord of the deep waters, even as of the everlasting hills. near teach's hole, ocracoke inlet offers a shallow channel between the dunes from pamlico sound to the open sea. here the varying tides rush angrily, lashed by the bulk of waves behind. to-night, the ebb bore with it a cockle-shell on which a lad clung, shivering. but the soul was still strong in him for all his plight. he dared believe that he would yet return safe to the mountains, to the love that awaited him there. once the castaway smiled wryly: "i hain't superstitious none--leastways, i dunno's i be," he muttered, doubtfully. "but hit's plumb lucky i got rid o' thet-thar dum black bag jest as i did, or i'd 'a' been a goner, shore!" chapter vi the days dragged heavily for plutina, after the departure of her lover. she endured the period of tense waiting as best she might, since endure she must, but this passive loneliness, without a word from the man of her heart, was well-nigh intolerable. she did not weep--after that single passionate outburst while yet her lips were warm from his kiss. she was not of the weak fiber to find assuagement in many tears, nor had she nerves that needed the chemical soothing of flooded eyes. she had, indeed, strength sufficient for the trial. she bore her sorrow bravely enough, but it pierced her through and through. she knew her lover, and she knew herself. because of that knowledge she was spared the shameful suffering of a woman who fears, with deadly fear, lest her lover be untrue. plutina had never a doubt as to the faith of the absent one. a natural jealousy sometimes leaped in her bosom, at thought of him exposed to the wiles of women whom she suspected of all wantonness. but she had no cowardly thought that the fairest and most cunning of them could oust her from the shrine of zeke's heart. her great grief lay in the failure of any word from the traveler. the days became weeks; almost a month had gone since he held her in his arms, and still no message came. this was, in truth, strange enough to justify alarm. it was with difficulty that she drove back a temptation to imagine evil happenings. she went oftener the six miles to the cherry lane post-office. when she descended the trail toward thunder branch this morning, she saw zeke's mother standing in the doorway of the cabin on the far side of the stream. the bent figure of the old woman rested motionless, with one hand lifted to shade her eyes from the vivid sunlight, as she watched the girl's approach. "mornin', tiny," she said tenderly, as the girl crossed the clearing. "on yer way to the lane, i reckon?" "mornin', mis' higgins," came the cheery answer. "yes, i 'lowed as how ye'd love to hear, an' i c'd git away. the corn's laid by; the sorghum cane's done hoed. alviry's gone to he'p gran'pap with a bee-tree. hit's a big yaller poplar, up 'twixt ted hutchins' claim an' the ole mine-hole. gran'pap 'lows as how hit 'll have to be cut an' split, an' wuth hit--over a hundred pounds, all sour-wood honey, 'cept 'bout ten pounds early poplar. gran'pap's right-smart tickled. i told alviry to watch out he don't go an' tote half of it up to thet-thar widder brown. you-all must come over an' git what ye kin use o' the honey, mis' higgins, afore the widder gits her fingers in the jar." "ye don't opine thet-thar gran'pap o' your'n aims to git hitched ag'in at his age, do ye, tiny? hit'd be plumb scand'lous--an' him eighty past. at thet age, he's bound to have one foot in the grave, fer all he's so tarnation spry an' peart in his carryin's on." "lord knows what he'll do," the girl replied, carelessly. "he's allers been given credit fer havin' fotchin' ways with women. i hope he won't, though. they say, folks what marry upwards o' eighty is mighty short-lived." the topic led zeke's mother to broach apprehension of her own: "tiny, ye don't have no idee thet our zeke's gone daffy on some o' them evish-lookin' critters down below, like ye showed me their picters in the city paper oncet?" "naw, no danger o' thet," was the stout assurance. "zeke's got too much sense. besides, he hain't had no time to git rich yit. the paper done said as how them kind's arter the coin." as she went her way, the girl's mind reveled in thoughts of the days to come, when zeke should be rich in sooth, and his riches for her. she swung her sun-bonnet in vigorous slaps against her bare legs, to scatter the ravenous mosquitoes and yellow flies, swarming from the thickets, and she smiled contentedly. "p'r'aps, them women's got more edication 'n me," she mused aloud, complacently, "but i kin fill them silk stockin's plumb up." her face grew brooding with a wistful regret in the sudden droop of the tender red lips. "i 'low i jest orter 'a' swung onto thet-thar neck o' his'n an' hollered fer parson, and got spliced 'fore he went." she shook her head disconsolately. "why, if he don't come back, i'll be worse nor the widders. humph, i knows 'em--cats. they'll say: 'tiny siddon didn't never have no chance to git married--her disperzition an' her looks wa'n't compellin' 'nough to ketch a man.'" the great dark eyes were clouded a little with bitter disappointment, when, two hours later, the girl came swiftly down the steep slopes from cherry lane, for once again there had been no letter for her. despite her courage, plutina felt a chill of dismay before the mystery of this silence. though faith was unshaken, bewilderment oppressed her spirit. she could not understand, and because she could not understand, her grief was heavy to bear. then, presently, she chanced upon a new mystery for her distraction--though this was the easier to her solving. as she descended into a hollow by luffman's branch, which joins thunder branch a little way above the higgins' clearing, plutina's alert ears caught a sound that was not of the tumbling waters. through all the noises of the stream where it leaped and sprayed in miniature falls over cluttering bowlders and fallen pines, she could distinguish the splashing of quick footsteps in the shallows. some instinct of caution checked the girl's advance. instead of going forward openly, she turned aside and approached the bank where crowding alders and ivy formed a screen. here, she parted the vines stealthily, and peered up the water-course. a man was descending the run with hurried strides, wading with bare feet, or springing from rock to rock where were the deeper pools. a winchester nestled in the crook of his left arm; two huge bear-traps, the jaws wickedly fanged, were swung from a rope over his right shoulder; a short-helved ax was thrust within his belt. he wore only a cotton shirt open at the neck, dirty throughout, patched jeans trousers, and a soft hat, green from long use. beneath the shading brim showed a loutish face, the coarse features swollen from dissipation, the small black eyes bleared, yet alert and penetrating in their darting, furtive glances. it was dan hodges, a man of unsavory repute. the girl, though unafraid, blessed the instinct that had guided her to avoid a meeting. there were two prime factors in plutina's detestation of hodges. the first was due to his insolence, as she deemed it, in aspiring for her favor. with little training in conventional ideas of delicacy, the girl had, nevertheless, a native refinement not always characteristic of her more-cultured sister women. there was to her something unspeakably repugnant in the fact that this bestial person should dare to think of her intimately. it was as if she were polluted by his dreaming of her kisses, of her yielding to his caresses. that he had so aspired she knew, for he had told her of his desire with the coarse candor of his kind. her spurning of the uncouth advances had excited his wrath; it had not destroyed his hopes. he had even ventured to renew his suit, after the news of an engagement between plutina and zeke had gone abroad. he had winced under the scourge of the girl' scorn, but he had shown neither penitence nor remorse. plutina had forborne any account of this trouble to her lover, lest, by bad blood between the two men, a worse thing befall. the second cause of the girl's feeling was less direct, though of longer standing, and had to do with the death of her father. that siddon, while yet in his prime, had been slain in a raid on a still by the revenue officers, and that despite the fact that he was not concerned in the affair, save by the unfortunate chance of being present. plutina, though only a child at the time, could still remember the horror of that event. there was a singular personal guiltiness, too, in her feeling, for, on the occasion of the raid, her grandfather had been looking out from a balcony, and had seen the revenue men urging their horses up the trail, the sunlight glinting on their carbines. he had seized the great horn, to blow a warning to those at the secret still on the mountain above. plutina could remember yet the grotesque bewilderment on his face, as no sound issued--then the wrath and despair. the children, in all innocence, had stuffed the horn with rags. the prank had thus, in a way, cost two lives--one, that of "young" dick siddon. the owner of the raided still had been dan hodges, and him plutina despised and hated with a virulence not at all christian, but very human. she had all the old-time mountaineer's antipathy for the extortion, as it was esteemed, of the federal government, and her father's death had naturally inflamed her against those responsible for it. yet, her loathing of hodges caused her to regret that the man himself had escaped capture thus far, though twice his still had been destroyed, once within the year. [illustration: _claudia kimball young under the direction of louis j. selznick._ a mountain "still."] a high, jutting wall of rock hid the stream where it bent sharply a little way from plutina's shelter. presently, she became aware that hodges had paused thus beyond the range of her vision, and was busy there. she heard the blows of the ax. general distrust of the man stirred up in her a brisk curiosity concerning the nature of his action in this place. on a previous day, she had observed that the limpid waters of the brook had been sullied by the milky refuse from a still somewhere in the reaches above. now, the presence of dan hodges was sufficient to prove the hidden still his. but the fact did not explain his business here. that it was something evil, she could not doubt, for the man and his gang were almost outlaws among their own people. they were known, though unpunished, thieves, as well as "moonshiners," and there were whispers of more dreadful things--of slain men vanished into the unsounded depths of the devil's cauldron. the gorge of the community--careless as it had been of some laws in the past, and too ready to administer justice according to its own code--had risen against the vicious living of the gang that accepted hodges as chief. it seemed to plutina that duty conspired with curiosity to set her spying on the man. the espionage, though toilsome enough, was not otherwise difficult. toward the bend, the banks rose sharply on both sides of the stream, forming a tiny cañon for the channel. the steep slope on the east side, where the girl now ascended, was closely overgrown with laurel and little thickets of ground pine, through which she was hard beset to force her way--the more since she must move with what noiselessness she might. but her strength and skill compassed the affair with surprising quickness. presently, she came to the brim of the little cliff, and lying outstretched, cautiously looked down. already, a hideous idea had entered her mind, but she had rejected it with horror. what she now saw confirmed the thought she had not dared to harbor. within this bend of the brook, the lessening volume of the channel had left a patch of rich soil, heavily overgrown with lush grasses and clusters of flowering weeds. a faint trace of passing steps ran across the bit of dry ground, the path of those that followed the stream's course. fair in this dim trail, near the center of the plot, a stake had been driven deep. at the moment, hodges was driving into the ground a similar stake, a yard further down. it was evident that the stakes had been previously left here in readiness, since he had not carried them in his descent, and the iron rings bound to them must have been attached in a forge. the two massive traps were lying half-hidden in the luxuriant growth close by. as plutina watched with affrighted intentness, the man finished driving the second stake. he lifted one of the traps, and carried it to the upper stake. with the aid of a stone for anvil, he succeeded in clumsily riveting the trap's length of chain to the ring on the stake. the like was done with the other trap at the lower stake. then, the man undertook the setting of the traps. the task was accomplished very quickly for both, though the strength of the jaws taxed his muscles to their utmost. finally, he strewed leaves, and bent grass, until no least gleam of metal betrayed the masked peril of the trail. plutina, sick with the treacherous deviltry of the device, heard the grunt of satisfaction with which hodges contemplated his finished work. forthwith, he picked up his rifle, thrust the ax-helve within his belt, and set off up the gulch. chapter vii there could be no doubt. those massive traps, with their cruel teeth of steel, meant by the makers for the holding of beasts, had been set here by hodges for the snaring of men. the contrivance was fiendishly efficient. from her coign of vantage on the cliff top, plutina could see, on a height above, the brush-covered distillery. a thin, blue column of smoke rose straight in the calm air, witness that the kettle was boiling over hickory logs, that a "run" of the liquor was being made. plutina recalled that, in a recent raid against hodges, the still had been captured and destroyed though the gang had escaped. such loss was disastrous, for the new copper and worm and fermenters meant a cost of a hundred dollars, a sum hard to come on in the mountain coves. usually, the outfit is packed on the men's backs to hiding in the laurel, afterward shifted to another obscure nook by running water. it was plain that hodges had grown more than ever venomous over the destruction of his still, and had no scruples as to the means he would employ to prevent a repetition of such catastrophe. no need now to fear lest sentinels be not alert. the natural path to the still was along the course of the stream. the unwary passer over the tiny stretch of greensward on which the girl looked down, would follow the dim trail of footsteps, and so inevitably come within the clutch of the great jaws, which would hurl themselves together, rending and crunching the flesh between. the victim's shrieks of anguish under the assault would be a warning to the lawless men above. they would make ready and flee with their possessions, and be lost in the laurel once again. yes, the device was simple, diabolically simple, and adequate. it required only that its executant should be without bowels of compassion. plutina, strong-nerved as she was, found herself shuddering as she realized the heinousness of this thing. the soft bloom of the roses in her cheeks faded to white; the dark radiance of the eyes was dimmed with horror; the exquisite lips were compressed harshly against their own quivering weakness. for plutina, despite strength of body and sane poise of soul, was a gentle and tender woman, and the brutal project spread before her eyes was an offense to every sensibility. then, very soon, the mood of passive distress yielded to another emotion: a lust for vengeance on the man who would insure his own safety thus, reckless of another's cost. a new idea came to the girl. at its first advent, she shrank from it, conscience-stricken, for it outraged the traditions of her people. but the idea returned, once and again. it seemed to her that the evil of the man justified her in any measure for his punishment. she had been bred to hate and despise a spy, but it was borne in on her now that duty required of her to turn informer against dan hodges. there was more even than the inflicting of punishment on the outlaw; there was the necessity of safeguarding the innocent from the menace of those hidden man-traps. any "furriner" from down below might wander here, whipping the stream; or any one of the neighborhood might chance on the spot. the widow higgins' heifers sometimes strayed; the old woman might come hither, seeking them. plutina shuddered again, before the terrible vision of the one who was like a mother to her, caught and mangled by the pointed fangs waiting amid the grasses below. the question as to her right conduct in the affair remained with the girl, as she descended from the cliff, and made her way slowly homeward. she temporized by a precautionary measure. at the widow's cabin, she secured the old woman's promise not to go beyond the clearing in quest of the cattle. but the difficulty as to her course was not abated. inclination urged her to advise the authorities concerning the locations of still and traps, and inclination was reinforced by justice. yet, over against this, there were the powerful influence of her upbringing, the circumstances of her environment, the tragedy of her father's death, the savage resentment of her grandfather, already virulent against her lover--all forces to inspire enmity against the representatives of a law regarded as the violation of inalienable rights. true, there was growing an insidious change in the sentiment of the community. where all had once been of accord, the better element were now becoming convinced that the illicit liquor-making cursed the mountains, rather than blessed. undoubtedly, some effect of this had touched the girl herself, without her knowledge, else she had never thought to betray even such a miscreant as hodges. there was, however, an abiding hate of the informer here, as always among decent folk, though along with it went reprobation of the traffic in moonshine. plutina felt that she could never justify her action in the sight of her people, should she bring the revenue men into the mountain. her own grandfather would curse her, and drive her forth. his feeling had been shown clearly in the case of zeke. so, in her period of uncertainty and stress, there was none of whom the girl could take counsel. but, in the end, she decided that she must give warning to the united states marshal. the task demanded care. on absolute secrecy depended, in all likelihood, her very life. the trove of honey had come opportunely, since the sale of a portion afforded plutina plausible excuse for her trip to joines' store. there, a telephone had been recently installed, and it was the girl's intention to use this means of communication with the marshal. that the danger of detection was great, she was unhappily aware, but, she could devise no plan that seemed less perilous. so, early in the morning of the day following her discovery, she made her way along the north wilkesboro' road, carrying twenty pounds of the sour-wood honey. at the store, she did her trading, and afterward remained loitering, as is the custom of shoppers in the region. the interval of waiting seemed to her interminable, for trade was brisk. there was always someone near enough the telephone to overhear, for it was unprotected by a booth. but, finally, the customers lessened. the few remaining were in the front of the store, at a safe distance from the instrument which was on a shelf at the back. plutina believed that her opportunity was come. she knew the amount of the toll, and had the necessary silver in her hand to slip into the box. then, just as she was about to take down the receiver, her apprehensive glance, roving the room, fell on ben york, who entered briskly, notwithstanding his seventy years, and came straight toward her. plutina's lifted hand fell to her side, and dread was heavy on her. for ben york was the distiller in hodges' gang. the old man had a reputation almost as notorious as that of hodges himself. the girl felt a wave of disgust, mingled with alarm, as she caught sight of the face, almost hidden behind a hoary thicket of whiskers. the fellow was dirty, as always, and his ragged clothes only emphasized the emaciation of his dwarfed form. but the rheumy eyes had a searching quality that disturbed the girl greatly. she knew that the man was distinguished for his intelligence as well as for his general worthlessness. in the experience of years, he had always escaped the raiders, nor had they been able ever to secure any evidence against him. he was, in fact, as adroit of mind as he was tough of body. he had lived hard all his days, either in drunken carouse or lying out in the laurel to escape the summons of the courts. where, alas! a holier man might have been broken long ago, the aged reprobate thrived, and threatened to infest the land for years to come. now, he greeted the girl casually enough, made a purchase, and took his departure. he seemed quite unsuspicious, but plutina felt that his coming on her thus was an evil omen, and, for a moment, she faltered in her purpose. a hand went to her bosom, and touched the tiny leather bag that hung from a cord about her neck inside the gown. within it was the fairy crystal. the touch of it strengthened her in some subtle fashion. it was as if to her weakness there came miraculously something vital, something occultly helpful in her need, from the distant lover. the superstition, begotten and nourished always in the fastnesses of the heights, stirred deeply within her, and comforted her. of a sudden, courage flowed back into her. she took down the receiver. after all, nothing was accomplished. the marshal was not in his office, but absent somewhere in the mountains. plutina would not risk giving information to any other than the officer himself, whom she knew, and respected. disconsolate, she abandoned the attempt for the time being, and set out to get a bag of wheat flour from the mill close by, on the other side of roaring river. as plutina, with the bag of flour on shoulder, was making her way back from the mill, across the big sycamore trunk that serves as a foot bridge, a horse splashed into the ford alongside. the girl looked up, to see the very man she sought. marshal stone called a cheery greeting, the while his horse dropped its head to drink. "howdy, plutina?" "howdy, mr. stone," she answered. her free hand went again to the talisman in her bosom. surely, its charm was potent! "all's well as common, at home?" stone continued. his critical eyes delighted in the unconscious grace of the girl, as she stood poised above the brawling stream, serene in her physical perfection; and above the delicately modeled symmetry of form was the loveliness of the face, beautiful as a flower, yet strong, with the shining eyes and the red lips, now parted in eagerness. the marshal wondered a little at that eagerness. he wondered still more at her hurried speech after one quick glance to make sure that none could overhear: "i mustn't be seed talkin' to ye, but i got somethin' to say 'll he'p ye arn yer pay. kin ye meet me in an hour by the sun, at the ole gate on the east end o' wolf rock?" the marshal's answer wasted no words: "go on, gal--i'll be there." wolf rock, a huge, jutting mass of barren cliff, though tiny beside the bulk of stone mountain, which overshadows it, lies between garden creek and thunder branch, a little to the north of where these streams flow into roaring river. its situation, nearly midway between the mill and the siddon cabin, made it a convenient point for the meeting between plutina and the officer. its loneliness lessened the element of danger. both were prompt to the rendezvous. well under the hour, man and girl were standing together within a bower of newly blossoming rhododendrons. above them, the naked rock bent sharply, its granite surface glistening in the hot noonday sun. they had withdrawn some score of yards from the old wooden gate that barred the lane here, lest a chance passer-by see them together. plutina opened her mind without hesitation. the decision once made, she had no thought of drawing back. "i 'low i kin trust ye, mister stone," she said simply, and the sincerity of the lustrous eyes as they met his confirmed her words. "afore you-all's time in the revenue service, raiders done kilt my daddy. i kain't never fergive them men, but they's out o' the service now, er i wouldn't have come to ye. gran'pap says they's a better lot o' revenuers now 'n what used to be an' he says as how marshal stone don't do no dirt. thet's why i'm a-trusting ye, so's ye kin kotch the pizen-meanest white man a-makin' likker in the hull stone mountain country--him an' his gang an' his still." the marshal's eyes sparkled. "i reckon you're talking about dan hodges," he interjected. plutina nodded her head in somber acquiescence. [illustration: _clara kimball young under the direction of lewis j. selznick._ joines' mill.] "then you needn't have any scruples about giving information," stone continued, urgently. "he and his gang are a menace to the peace of the settlement. i'll keep you out of it, of course, to save you embarrassment." "ye'd better," plutina retorted, "to save my life. i don't know's i mind bein' embarrassed so much, but i don't feel called to die yit." "no, no; there won't be anything like that," the marshal exclaimed, much disconcerted. "i'll see no trouble comes to you. nobody'll know your part." "'cept me!" was the bitter objection. "if 'twas anybody but that ornery galoot, i wouldn't say a word. ye know that." "i know," stone admitted, placatingly. in his desire to change her mood, he blundered on: "and there's the reward for getting the 'copper'--twenty dollars for you plutina. if we get hodges, i'll give you another fifty out of my own pocket. that'll buy you a nice new dress or two, and a hat, and some silk stockings for those pretty legs of yours." plutina flared. the red glowed hot in her cheeks, and the big eyes flashed. the mellow voice deepened to a note of new dignity, despite her anger. "i hain't come hyar to gas 'bout rewards, an' money outten yer pocket, mister stone, or 'bout my clothes an' sech. i'm an engaged woman. when i wants to cover my legs with stockin's zeke higgins' money'll do the payin', an' he won't need no he'p from no damned revenuer." stone, realizing too late the error in his diplomacy, made what haste he could to retrieve it. his smile was genial as he spoke. he seemed quite unabashed, just heartily sympathetic, and his manner calmed the girl's irritation almost at once. "oh, you little mountain hornet! well, you are telling me news now. and it's the kind to make any old bachelor like me weep for envy. lucky boy, zeke! i guess he knows it, too, for he's got eyes in his head. about the money--why, you've a right to it. if dan hodges and his gang ain't rounded up quick, they'll be killing some good citizen--like me, perhaps." plutina had recovered her poise, but she spoke no less firmly: "no, suh, i won't tech the money. i kin show ye how to kotch the hull gang, but not fer pay, an not fer love o' no revenuer, neither. hit's jest fer the good o' this country hyarbout. dan hodges has done sot b'ar-traps to kotch you-all. an' anybody might walk plumb into 'em, but not if i kin he'p hit." forthwith, she made the situation clear to her eager listener. "kin you-all meet me, an hour by the sun in the mornin', on the trail to cherry lane post-office jest beyond the widder higgins' clearin'? i'll take ye to the place, whar ye kin see the still, an' the traps." "i'll have to move lively," the marshal answered, with a somewhat rueful laugh. "twenty miles' ride to north wilkesboro', and back. but i'll do it, of course. i wouldn't miss it for a good deal. i'll have my men waiting at trap hill. if things shape right, i'll make the raid to-morrow night." chapter viii marshal john stone was a mountaineer of the better sort, who had the respect and admiration of the law-abiding citizens in his district, and the hate of the evil-doers. he stood full six feet in his socks, and he was broad and muscled in proportion. his gray eyes were of the sort to harden to steel against an enemy, to soften wonderfully for a friend. the mouth, half-hidden by the thick mustache, was very firm, yet prone to smiles. to an excellent intelligence had been added a fair amount of education. since he respected both himself and his work, and had developed a veritable passion for the capture of malefactors, he was more than usually successful. his zeal, tempered with discretion, had won the appreciative attention of official superiors. there could be no doubt that promotion would shortly remove him to a higher plane of service. the fact would have been most agreeable to stone, but for two things. he desired beyond all else, before going from the mountains, to capture dan hodges, who had so persistently flouted the law, and himself, its representative; the second unsatisfied ambition was to come on the long-lost burns' still. the scottish poet's poverty was almost equal to his genius. on that account, robert burns was glad to secure the stipend of fifty pounds a year to which he became entitled on his appointment as exciseman in 1788. it may be that his convivial habits made his official position particularly acceptable, since doubtless his perquisites included the keeping of his own jug filled. and there were moonshiners among the scottish hills in those days, as perhaps there are to-day. on occasion, the poet made a gift of a captured still to some discreet friend. one recipient emigrated to america, and bore into the wilderness that has become north carolina the kettle and cap of copper on which burns had graven his name, and the date, 1790. afterward, as the years passed, the still knew many owners, mostly unlawful. it won fame, and this saved it from the junk-heap of its fellows, when seized by the federal officers. three times, it was even placed on public exhibition. as many, it was stolen by moonshiners. for years now, it had remained in secret. marshal stone yearned to recapture the burns still. there was no reason whatsoever for believing it to be in the possession of hodges, yet it might as easily be with that desperado as with another. there was at least the possibility. the marshal, as he rode north before the dawn next morning, felt a new kindling of hope. it seemed to him almost certain that the opportunity was at hand to satisfy one ambition at least by putting hodges behind the bars. for the other, it was on the lap of the gods. the officer was at pains to use every precaution to avoid being observed while in company with the girl, whom he duly met at the appointed place while the sun was yet low on the eastern horizon. the two made their way with what quiet they could through devious paths to luffman's branch. the dew lay heavy on the laurel leaves of the thickets, and the breeze was perfumed with the penetrant fragrance of many blossoms. the day was thrilling with the matins of the birds. the balsamic air was a wine of life. the rugged mountain peaks seemed to stand as an impregnable barrier against the confusions and evils of the larger world. but the man and the girl recked nought of these things as they went forward, with cautious steps and watchful eyes. they knew that the tranquil scene masked wickedness close by them, which would not hesitate to destroy. the discovery of the marshal in that vicinity would mean for him the bullet of an assassin from out the screen of leaves, and the same fate--or worse--for his companion. the corpses would be lost in the devil's cauldron. men would whisper grim surmises, and whisper low lest the like come upon them. and that would be all. they reached the cliff top overlooking the little cañon, and plutina pointed out the location of the traps on the strip of dry ground below, and the huddles of brush that disguised the buildings of the still. then, the girl went her way. she had done her part. the man remained to study the scene above for hours through his glasses, and to map out the night's campaign into the enemy's country. a delicate moonlight fell over the mountains, when, in the evening, stone led his men from the rendezvous at trap hill. the six were heavily armed and well mounted. their course at the outset led them along the elkin road to joines' store, where they swung into the trail over which zeke and plutina had walked the day of their parting. the cavalcade rode swiftly. there was no conversation; only the pounding of hoofs and the jangling of accoutrements. when, at last, they reached the edge of the widow higgins' clearing, they turned sharply to the eastward, following the path toward the cherry lane post-office. presently, at a low word of command from the leader, they halted and dismounted. the horses were left to the care of one man in a near-by thicket, and the remainder of the party continued the advance on foot. the marshal, during his watch on the still that day, had planned his attack in every detail. he hoped to make his capture of the gang without unnecessary casualties, for in this particular he had achieved an enviable record, on which he prided himself. at first, he had thought of ascending along the course of luffman's branch, after springing the traps, but had given over the plan as one offering more chance of the raiders being discovered prematurely. instead, he had decided on taking his men up the mountainside by a round-about route, likely to be free from watchers. his men were already instructed in every point, so now they followed him rapidly and almost noiselessly, as he forced his way through the thick growths of the wooded slopes. the darkness added to the difficulties of the progress, but the posse were inured to hardships, and went onward and upward resolutely. despite the necessities of the detour, they came surprisingly soon to a height from which they looked across a small ravine to the level space where the still perched by the stream. a few whispered words from the leader, and the company crept with increased care across the ravine. from the ridge beyond, three of the men passed forward to make ambush--one above, and one below, and one on the far side of the still. stone and a single companion remained, hiding behind the clumps of rhododendrons. it was with huge satisfaction that the marshal recognized hodges himself, plainly revealed by the firelight. the "kettle" was running at full blast. the seasoned hickory logs, in the rough stone furnace beneath the kettle, were burning fiercely, and the blue and gold of their flames lighted all the scene into vivid relief against the background of shadows. stone, even at his distance, could see distinctly the tiny stream of colorless mountain-corn whiskey, as it flowed out from the worm into the keg placed to receive it. the leader of the gang was seated at ease on a stool just outside the brush enclosure that masked the buildings. the villain was evidently in a mood of contentment, untainted by remorse over the havoc his traps might wreak on any passing through the gorge below. rather, doubtless, the memory of those sinister sentinels gave him a sense of safety, on which his serenity was founded. in his lap was a banjo which he thrummed vigorously, with rhythmic precision, if no greater musical art, and head and body and feet, all gave emphasis to the movement. at intervals, his raucous voice rumbled a snatch of song. it was evident that the moonshiner was mellow from draughts of his own potent product. others of the gang were busied here and there, bulking grotesquely as they moved about the fire, seeming disheveled demons of the pit. like some master imp torturing a pigmy over the flames, old ben york was kneeling close beside the blaze, holding to the coals a hickory stick, which served as spit for the roasting of a squirrel. the brilliance shone full on the frowsy gray whiskers, and, above them, the blinking, rheumy eyes, so intent on the proper browning of the game. none of the outlaws had a weapon in his grasp--a fact noted with satisfaction by the chief of the raiders, who knew that these men would not scruple against bloodshed to escape arrest. there were arms at hand, of course; hodges' rifle was visible, leaning against a ground pine within his reach. but stone hoped that the surprise would be such that the gang could not avail themselves of their weapons. hodges had just completed a strident rendering of "cripple crick," and had thumped out the opening bars of "short'nin' bread," when the marshal gave the signal for attack--a single flash of his electric torch. in the same second, the raiders' rifles crashed out. the big bullets struck true to aim in the ground of the open place before the fire. a shower of dirt and pebbles spat back viciously. some of the flying fragments struck the men, terrifying them with the thought of bullet wounds. hodges, as the reports sounded, felt the bruise of stones on his bare legs, and shrieked in panic fear. his instinctive recoil carried him over backward, from the stool to the ground. the banjo jangled discordant triumph over his fall. when, dazed by the suddenness of it all, he would have struggled up, he found himself fast in the clutches of two raiders, who locked manacles on his wrists. stone grunted joyously as he surveyed the captive. the others of the gang, except ben york, had contrived to slip away into the laurel, whither it would avail nothing to follow them, save useless risk of being killed from ambush. but the marshal cared little for the escape of the lesser malefactors. he had succeeded in taking prisoner the most notorious criminal of the mountains. ben york had failed to effect his usual flight, because of being at a disadvantage on his knees. before he could scramble up for a plunge into the thickets the enemy was upon him. yet, even in this moment of shock, the old scoundrel's cunning sought and found a ruse. he stood swaying for seconds, and then tumbled limply headlong to the ground, in a drunkard's fall, familiar to his muscles by experience through three-score years. so he lay inert, seemingly sodden from the kettle's brew. his captors, if resolved to hold him prisoner, would be forced to the arduous task of carrying him through the dark, down the rough slopes. it would be strange, he mused complacently, if in the course of the journey, their vigilance did not relax a little. and a very little would suffice him! then, though to all appearance in a drunken stupor, he sighed. he was unhappily aware that the revenue men would not be gentle in their efforts to arouse him to consciousness. whether they believed him shamming or not, they would use no doubtful measures. but, whatever might come, he must endure it for the sake of escape. [illustration: _clara kimball young under the direction of lewis j. selznick._ after the raid.] the raiders realized the need of haste, for they must be done with their work here, and down the steeps of the mountain into the open road, ere the fugitives should have time to arm themselves, and waylay the posse from the thickets. so, with due watchfulness of the two prisoners, the men set about that task of destruction which their duty required. the fermenters, huge tubs holding the mixture of meal, malt and water making ready for the still, received first attention. since york had fallen before these, the men rolled him roughly to one side, without arousing him to any sign of consciousness. stone knew the man to be shamming, since there had been no show of even incipient drunkenness before the moment of the raid. he resolved to try a test at least, for he was alert to the hindrance the limp form would prove in the descent of the mountain. he thrust the body forward with his foot, close to one of the great "stands" of the mixture, and bade an appreciative assistant apply the ax to the slippery-elm hoops that bound the staves. as the bands fell and the great volume of liquid gushed forth, the raiders leaped aside from the flood. but york never stirred. the down-rushing tide fell fairly on him, engulfed him. he made no movement, no outcry. even stone himself was led to a half-remorseful wonder whether he had been deceived concerning the fellow's state. then, after a few seconds, the bald head rose, glistening from the pool of the "beer." the thin wisps of gray hair hung in dank strings; the jungle of beard seemed strangely thin; there was something curiously unlike ben york in the lineaments. the marshal guessed that the metamorphosis was wrought by the swirling mess, which had scrubbed the weazened face almost clean for the first time in the memory of living man. as the dilapidated head emerged, it showed the grotesque caricature of a neptune, whose element was not the waters of ocean, but the shattered hogsheads of "beer." even now, however, ben clung to his rôle. once his face was clear, he continued to sit placidly, though the surface of the viscous pool was at his neck. for better effect, he blinked vacuously, and gurgled. perhaps, memory of a bath in infancy inspired him. he had had none since. he beat his scrawny hands in the "beer," and cackled. it was admirable art, but wasted. the eight fermenters were broken and emptied, the whiskey stores, both "singlin's" and "doublin's," were poured out on the ground, which drank them as thirstily as did ever law-scorning "boomer." then, the raiders turned to the chief spoils, kettle, cap and worm. stone and his men took the copper worm from the cooling barrel, removed the cap, drew the fire from the furnace, and finally pulled down the kettle. in the varied excitement of the night, the marshal had almost forgotten his second great ambition, in the accomplishment of his first. almost, not quite. now, the memory of it jumped within him. he thrust the cap where the glow of the fire would light it clearly, dropped to his knees, and peered closely. his stern face relaxed abruptly to joyousness. "by the lord, boys," he shouted, "it's the bobbie burns' still!" nevertheless, stone wasted no time in exultation. he merely ordered his men to carry the copper utensils along, instead of destroying them on the spot. then, he addressed ben york, who grinned idiotically from toothless gums, where he crouched in the diminishing puddle. the marshal's voice rasped. "you're going with us, ben. it's for you to say how. if we have to, we'll carry you all the way. we'll snake you down the mountains without being too almighty careful of that rum-tanned hide of yours, and then we'll sling you across the roughest-gaited horse we've got--face down across the saddle and roped snug. that's the way you'll do twenty-odd miles, ben, if we have to tote you down a single rod. make up your mind--now! it'll be too late to change it, in a minute. you're plumb sober, and i know it. get up, you old fox!" and ben york, shivering in his sticky, drenched rags, recognized the inevitable, and scrambled to his feet, snarling curses. "hit was thet-thar damned gal!" he mumbled venomously. but none heard. chapter ix it is a far cry from the savagery of the illicit mountain still to that consummate luxury of civilization, an ocean-going steam yacht. yet, in actual space, the distance between these two extremes was not great. _the josephine_, all in snowy white, save for the gleam of polished brass-work, and flying the pennant of the new york yacht club, glided forth from norfolk harbor in serene magnificence on the same day that _the bonita_ chugged fussily over the same course. the yacht was setting out on the second stage of her leisurely pleasure voyage to bermuda. the skipper had been instructed to follow the coast southward as far as frying pan shoals, for the sake of rounding hatteras. afterward, since the weather grew menacing, the craft continued down the coast to cape lookout, where anchor was dropped in the harbor of refuge. the island that lies there is a long, narrow, barren strip of sand, dotted thickly with dunes. only a coarse marsh grass grows, with dwarfed pines and cedars. in this bleak spot live and thrive droves of wild ponies, of uncertain ancestry. it was these creatures that just now held the attention of two persons on the yacht. under the awning in the stern, two girls were chatting as they dawdled over their morning chocolate. the younger and prettier of these was josephine blaise, the motherless daughter of the yacht-owner; the other was florence marlow, her most intimate friend. "dad told me i could have the runabout ashore," josephine was saying, with a sudden access of animation. "we'll go along the beach, as long as the going's good, or till we scare up the ponies." "i do hope we'll see them digging holes in the sand, so as to get fresh water," florence exclaimed. but josephine was quick to dissent: "they don't dig for water," she explained, with a superior air. "they dig the holes in the beach when the tides out, and then the tide comes in and fills the holes, of course. when it ebbs, the ponies go around and pick out the fish, and eat them." florence stared disbelievingly. "oh, what a whopper!" she cried. "captain hawks told me himself," josephine asserted, with confidence. "he knows all about them--he's seen them wild on the island and tame on the mainland." "same ones, probably!" was the tart retort. "i thought the doctor lied ably, but he's truth itself compared with that hairy skipper of yours." josephine tossed her head. "we'll run 'em down and observe their habits, scientifically, and convince you." a glance shoreward showed the car awaiting them. as they descended the ladder to the launch, a yelp sounded from the deck, and a bull-terrier came charging after. florence regarded the dog without any evidence of pleasure. "does the pest go, too?" she asked, resignedly. josephine pulled the terrier's ears fondly, as it cuddled close against her skirt. "chubbie deserves an outing after the bump he got from that horrid man yesterday," she said. the girls exchanged glances, and laughed over some secret joke. when, presently, they were seated together in the runaabout, with josephine at the wheel, the bull-terrier squatted in dignity on the small back seat. the level sand formed a perfect roadway, and the car darted smoothly and swiftly between the twin barren spaces of land and sea. as they swept forward, the girls watched alertly for a glimpse of the ponies among the dunes, but there was nowhere any sign of a living thing, save the few hurrying gulls. they had gone perhaps twenty miles, and were beginning to fear disappointment, when, without warning, a drove of the horses came galloping over the crest of a little rise, a half-mile beyond. as the car ran forward, along the ribbon of sand below the higher ground, the ponies suddenly perceived it, and halted with the precision of a troop of cavalry. near at hand, now, the girls could note details, and both observed with interest the leader, which stood a little in advance of his troop, at the end near the approaching machine. he was a handsome creature, with lines as suavely strong as an arabian's. he stood with head held high, tail streaming, a fore-hoof pawing challengingly at the sand. only the thick, shaggy bay coat showed the barbarian, rather than the thoroughbred. the mares, a score of them in one orderly rank behind him, were crowding and lashing out nervously, as they watched the strange monster racing so fast on the ocean's edge. some of them nickered curiously. but the stallion rested silent, until the automobile halted, hardly fifty yards away. then he tossed his head proudly, and blared a great trumpet-note of defiance. josephine instinctively answered with the horn. the mechanical cry broke harshly, swelled and wailed. the eerie response terrified the mares; it perplexed and alarmed their lord. but he showed no dismay. for a moment still, he remained motionless. his noisy challenge rang forth once again. since the invader on the sands below kept silence, nor made any movement toward attack, the leader seemed to feel that his prestige was safe enough; that prudence were now the better part. he sounded a low call, and set off at a gallop along the ridge top. the rank of mares pounded obediently at his heels. "oh, after them, josie!" florence cried. in a moment, the car shot forward. the horn clamored again. the fleeing horses looked back, then leaped to new speed before the monster that threatened them with unknown terrors. as the car increased its pace, the ponies strove the harder. their strides lengthened, quickened. the stunted marsh grass beat on the low bellies. despite their desperate striving, the runabout drew closer and closer, reached abreast of them. the excitement of the chase was in the sparkling eyes of the girls. the dog, scrambling up and falling in its seat, yelped madly. here, the beach broadened to a sharper ascent of the ridge. josephine shifted the wheel. the car swung in a wide curve and drove straight toward the panic-stricken troop, as if it would soar up to them. fear took pride's place in the leader's heart. he sounded a command. the flying drove veered, vanished from the ridge top. the muffled thudding of hoofs came faintly for a minute against the sea wind. then, as the car came to a standstill, the girls listened, but heard no sound. "it was bully fun!" josephine said. "i'm sorry it's over." "after that run, they may be thirsty enough to dig for water," florence suggested, with a laugh. "let's climb up, and take a look round from the ridge." but a glance from this point of advantage made it clear that the peculiarities of the ponies in drinking or fishing were not to be explained to-day. they were visible still, to be sure, but a mile off, and the rapidity with which the moving mass diminished to the eye was proof that they were still in panic. "we might as well get back to the yacht," was josephine's rueful comment. "there's not another single thing to see, now they're gone." she ran her keen gaze over the dreary waste of the island with a little shiver of distaste. then her glance roved the undulant expanse of sea. she uttered a sharp ejaculation of surprise. "there is something, after all," she called out, excitedly. "see--over there!" florence looked in the direction marked by the pointing finger. "it's a canoe," she hazarded, as her eyes fell on the object that bobbed lightly in the surf, two hundred yards from the shore. "i can see the man in it. he's lying down. funny!" but josephine, wiser from much experience on shipboard, now saw clearly, and the sight thrilled. "it's a life-raft," she declared, with a tremor in her voice; "and there's a man on it. it's a--real--castaway. come!" with that, she set off running down the steep slope of the ridge toward the sea. behind her came florence, startled and alarmed. the dog barked exultantly once, then leaped ahead, only to return and circle the slower playfellows joyfully. they came to the water's edge, and halted, perforce. josephine saw the raft, as it rode on a breaking wave. it was perceptibly nearer. she dared hope it might be brought within reach. with deft motions, the flannel skirt was tucked within her belt, leaving her legs free. florence, somewhat reluctantly, made the like adjustment. the bull-terrier, disheartened by this immobility, sat on its haunches, and regarded the two doubtfully, perhaps prudishly disapproving. from time to time the raft showed for a few seconds; only to vanish again behind the screen of spume. but it advanced shoreward, steadily. the body of the man was distinct--prone, motionless. the girls watched and waited in palpitant eagerness. the dog, sensing the tension of the moment, began to hasten to and fro, snuffing and whining. suddenly, the two cried out in the same moment. they saw the raft floating fast and smoothly toward them on the crest of a breaker. they dashed forward, knee-deep, to meet the charge. the huge mass of the wave pounded upon them, almost swept them from their feet. the angry waters boiled about them. it was up to their waists now. the flying spray lashed their faces and blinded them. when, at last, their vision cleared, the raft had vanished. they caught sight of it again, presently. it was floating from them, already fifty yards distant. nevertheless, the girls, though discouraged, did not give over their hope of rescue. not even when another wave thrust the raft fairly upon them, so that their hands clutched the tubes, then tore it ruthlessly from their puny grasp, and flung it afar. the dog, accustomed to sporting in the surf with its mistress, rushed to seize this flotsam, but the powerful jaws could find no hold. as the dog approached, swimming, josephine put her hand to its collar, and so supported it while they waited anxiously for the raft's return. it came more quickly than before. it was, indeed, as if fate finally relented, for the raft was borne this time on a smaller wave, almost with gentleness, as it seemed. yet, the gentleness of appearance was only mockery. when the two girls laid hands on it with all their strength it swerved violently, wrested itself from their clutch. josephine cried out in despair. she saw the dog, released by her effort, plunging forward. a rope dragged in the raft's wake, a remnant of the lashings. the dog lunged viciously, and its jaws locked on the rope. immediately, then, the bull-terrier began swimming toward the shore. there was no progress. but the going of the raft was momentarily stayed. josephine saw the opportunity and shrieked to florence. the two sprang, and caught the raft again. it rested passively in the grasp of the three. the dog continued swimming, its face set resolutely shoreward. the girls, up to their breasts in water, stepped forward, tugging lustily. the three advanced slowly. the raft moved with them. it was a struggle that taxed the strength of each to the uttermost. those three puny creatures fighting against the might of the ocean for the body of a dead man! dead the man seemed, at least, to the girls, who, after one glance into the drawn and ghastly face of their burden, dared not look again. the undertow writhed about their legs, jerked at them wrathfully. waves crashed upon them with shattering force. once, florence was hurled from her footing, but her hands held their grip on the raft. the wrenching shock was sustained by josephine and the dog. they gave a little, but with fierce, stubborn resistance. florence regained her feet. the rout was stayed. the pitiful combat between pigmies and titans was on again. there was good blood in the three. a fighting ancestry had dowered them with the courage that does not know defeat when it is met. their strength was exhausted. yet, they battled on. a great comber smashed against them. it snatched the raft from the weakened hold of the girls, threw it far up on the sand. the dog shot in a wide arc through the air. they could hear its grunt as it fell. but the jaws were still locked. in the same instant, the beast was firmly set, hauling at the rope. the raft was held for a little by the dog alone, against the waters as they sucked back. then, the girls tottered to aid. they fell to their knees in the shallows, and clung frantically. the waves hissed away from them. they feared the coming of a larger breaker to undo their work. josephine perceived to her astonishment that the man was not fastened to the raft, except by the vise-like gripping of his big hands. and, too, she saw now that he was living. she guessed that he was stupefied by exhaustion, yet not swooning. she shrieked to him to unclench his fingers. it may be that his dulled brain understood in a measure; it may be that he was come to the very end of his strength. anyhow, as she put her fingers to his, there was no resistance. the grasp that had withstood the sea's fury, yielded at once to the soft pressure of her touch. the two girls summoned new energy to the task. the dog let go the rope, and, whining curiously, caught a trouser leg between its teeth, and aided. somehow, the three contrived to roll and push and pull the inert form to a point of safety. then, they sank down, panting. josephine stirred first. with a gasping sigh, she struggled to a sitting position. the dog at once stood up, and shook itself with great violence. the drops splashed over the face of florence, and she, in turn, opened her eyes, groaned deeply, and sat up, with a wry smile of discomfort. "what'll we do with the corpse?" she inquired, in an undertaker's best manner. the funereal suggestion, so sincerely offered, provoked josephine to a weak peal of laughter. "better wait to worry over that till he's dead," she answered briskly, if somewhat incoherently. "and he will be, if we don't watch out. there should be a flask in the motor. run and get it, flo. i'll chafe his hands." "run!" the other exclaimed. "if i can crawl it, i'll be proud." nevertheless, she got to her feet, stiffly, but readily enough. "and sprinkle water on his face," she called over her shoulder. "it might cheer him anyhow, after having had it all over him by the ton." both girls in the first reaction from the stress of their war against death were brimming with joyousness, notwithstanding fatigue. while josephine rubbed the rough hands as strongly as she could between her own tender ones, the dog drew near. when the girl looked up, she saw that her pet was licking the man's face. she called out in sharp rebuke. at the same moment, the castaway's eyes unclosed. for long seconds, he stared, unblinking. then, abruptly, his voice sounded in a low drawl of wonder: "hit's thet-thar damned man-faced dawg!" chapter x the castaway's gaze went to the girl kneeling beside him. "an' the furrin woman!" he muttered. florence came running with the flask, which was full of brandy. "quick!" josephine urged. "he's better, but he's raving crazy. thinks i'm a foreigner." but, as florence could have filled the cup of the flask, zeke interposed, with more animation than he had hitherto shown. "if so be that's likker, an' ye 'lows to give hit to me, if hit don't make no p'tic'lar diff'rence to you-all, i'd like to drink hit right smack outen thet-thar new-fangled bottle, jest as we be a-used to doin' in the state o' wilkes." "as you wish, of course," florence replied, soothingly. "it will make a new man of you." zeke promptly sat up and put his lips to the mouth of the flask, and held them there while the rhythmic movement of his adam's apple visibly witnessed thirstiness. the girls regarded him with astonishment, which quickly merged in dismay, for they could not guess the boomer's capacity for fiery drink. as a matter of fact, zeke, while he drank, lamented the insipidity of the draught, and sighed for a swig of moonshine to rout the chill in his veins with its fluid flames. he, in turn, was presently to learn, with astonishment, that a beverage so mild to the taste had all the potency of his mountain dram, and more. chilled as he had been by the long hours of exposure to the night air of the sea, while drifting the fifteen miles from ocracoke inlet, and worn in body and mind by the peril of his situation, zeke found himself almost at once strengthened and cheered by the generous spirit. he was, in fact, another man than the exhausted castaway, as the girl had promised; he was himself again. he was still weak and shaken; but his splendid vitality was asserting itself. the gray, drawn face was colored to golden tan; the clear eyes were shining with new appreciation of the joy of life. he had not thought much after the very first, during those long, racking hours of tossing on the sea. his brain had become numb. his fancies had run to tender memories of moments spent with plutina. often, he had felt her presence there with him, in the dark spaces of the sea. but the idea that most dominated his mind had sprung from the lusty instinct of self-preservation; he must cling to the raft. it had been the one thing that he could do toward safety. his whole will had centered in the clutch of his hands on the tubes. seeing the man thus recovered, the girls withdrew toward the runabout to adjust their clothing, and to find some garment for the man, since he wore only shirt and trousers. but the bull-terrier, for a wonder, did not follow its mistress. instead, it sat on its haunches close to the mountaineer, and muzzled his hand. zeke pulled the dog's ears gently. "that thump i gin ye must 'a' struck plumb down to yer heart, an' made a right-smart change in yer affections. ye wa'n't so dummed friendly when ye tuck thet-thar hunk out o' my pants." the dog whined an answer, and crept fawningly into the mountaineer's lap, where it nestled contentedly. it was thus that the girls, returning with a rain-coat, found the two, and they stared in surprise, for the bull-terrier was none too amiable with strangers. "i never knew chubbie make friends like that before," josephine exclaimed. she looked in fresh curiosity upon the wholesome face with the regular features, rather stern in repose, but now softened by a smile. "it must be because he helped us pull you out. we couldn't have done it without him. that makes you belong to him, in a way." zeke stared at the dog, with new respect. "the darned son of a gun!" he ejaculated, gravely. "i reckon," he continued after a meditative pause, "the little cuss felt like he owed me somethin' fer sp'ilin' my jeans. that crack i gin him put the fear o' god into his bosom, so to speak. 'the more ye beat 'em, the better they be.'" josephine started at his words. without a hat, the dark curls had given a look so different to the face that, until now, she had not recognized the man of the ferry-boat. "why," she cried, "you are the one!" she turned to the bewildered florence. her blue eyes were flashing; her voice was hard. "he's the creature that almost killed chubbie. and to think we troubled to save him!" "that hell-fired pup o' your'n took a holt on me first," zeke protested wrathfully, forgetful of his reconciliation with the dog. then, a plaintive whine recalled him. he smiled whimsically, as he patted the bull-terrier's head, which was lifted toward him fondly. the anger died out of his face, and he smiled. "i've hearn these-hyar dumb critters git things 'bout right by instinct, somehow. yer dawg's done fergive me. won't you-all, mum?" josephine hesitated. the ingenuous appeal touched her. only pride held her from yielding. "an', besides," zeke went on, "ye was a-sayin' as how the dawg kind o' felt i belonged to him like, bein' he he'ped pull me out o' the ocean, an' so he had to like me. thet-thar argyment goes fer you-all, too, mum. so, i 'low ye gotter fergive me--specially kase yer dawg begun hit." josephine relaxed with a ripple of laughter. the mountaineer both interested and pleased her. to her inevitable interest in one whom she had helped to save from death, there was now added a personal attraction. she perceived, with astonishment, that this was by no means the hulking brute she had deemed him when her pet had suffered at his hands. the dog's attitude toward him impressed her deeply. moreover, she saw that he was intelligent, as well as naïve. she perceived that he had humor and quickness of feeling. his responsiveness to the dog's advances pleased her. she was greedy of experience and knowledge, easily bored by familiar things, likely to be vastly interested, for a brief season, in the new and strange. she realized that here, ready to her hand, was a type wholly novel. she felt that it was her prerogative to understand something of the nature of this singular being thus cast at her feet by fate. certainly, it would be absurd to cherish any rancor. as he had said, the dog's action sufficed. besides, she must be friendly if she would learn concerning this personality. every reason justified inclination. she rebelled no longer. her blue eyes gleamed with genuine kindliness, as she spoke: "i'll take chubbie's word for it." her voice became authoritative. "now, if you feel equal to standing up, we'll have this rain-coat on you, and then run you down to the yacht. we'll attend to landing you somewhere after you've rested and had something to eat." already josephine's brain was busy, scheming to her own ends, but of this she gave no hint. zeke pushed away the reluctant dog, and rose up stiffly. the stimulation of the brandy stood him in good stead. "i 'low i'm havin' a right-smart lot of experience," he remarked, chuckling. "what with steam-cars, an' boats, an' wrecks, an' now one o' them ornery devil-wagons. i hain't a-feared none," he added, musingly, "but i hain't a-pinin' neither. i reckon i kin stand anythin' what gals an' a dog kin. i'm plumb nervous or hungry--i don't know which. both, like's not!" he rejected the offer of support, and walked firmly enough to the machine, which he eyed distrustfully. florence took the rear seat, and zeke established himself beside josephine, the dog between his feet. after the first few minutes, he found himself delighting in this smooth, silent rush over the white sands. in answer to josephine's question, he gave a bare outline of his adventures in the three days of his absence from the mountains. "i was a-hankerin' arter experience," he concluded, "an' aimin' to make my everlastin' fortin. i been doin' pretty peart, so fer." "you've certainly had more than your share of experience in the time," josephine agreed; "though i don't know about the fortune." "started right-smack off at the rate of more'n seventy-five thousand dollars a year," zeke rejoined, complacently. he laughed joyously at the bewildered face the girl turned to him. "i done figured hit out las' night, not havin' much of anythin' to do on thet-thar raft, 'cept to stick." he gave an account of the capture of the negro outlaw, for which he had received a reward. "i'm only a-jokin', of course," he went on with new seriousness. "i hain't pinin' fer no foolishness. all i want is enough so's not to be hog-pore. an' i got a chance to learn somethin', an' to make somethin', an', arter all, go right on livin' in my own country. an' that's what plutiny wants, too. an' i'll have enough to buy her straighteners, if she wants 'em, by cracky!" "oh--straighteners?" josephine repeated, mystified. vague memories of a visit to a hospital suggested an explanation. "then, this person you speak of, plutina, is deformed?" "deformed!" for an instant, zeke could only repeat the word, helplessly. "a curvature of the spine, i suppose," josephine continued, without interest. she had her eyes on the ribbon of sand now, and guessed nothing as to her companion's disturbance, until his voice came in a burst of protest that made her jump. "plutiny--deformed!" he exclaimed, harshly. then, his voice softened wonderfully, though it shook with the tensity of his feeling. "why, plutiny's better'n anybody else in all the world--she is, an' she looks hit. plutiny--deformed! why, my plutiny's straight as thet-thar young pine tree atop bull head mounting. an' she's as easy an' graceful to bend an' move as the alders along thunder branch. there hain't nary other woman in all the world to ekal my plutiny. plutiny--deformed! why, mum, you-all talk plumb foolish." the girl was too astonished before this outburst to take offense. "but you spoke about straighteners for her," she protested. zeke stared for a moment, then grinned understandingly. "thet's what we-uns call 'em," he said. "you-all call 'em corsets." yet, the effect of this conversation reached beyond the humorous. in some subtle fashion, it provoked the girl to keener interest in the young man. she was perhaps, though she would have denied the suggestion hotly, a little piqued by the exaltation with which he praised his rustic sweetheart. josephine was an exceedingly attractive young woman, and she was accustomed to having men show their appreciation of the fact. it was new to her thus essentially to be ignored, and not quite agreeable. there could be no tender interest between herself and this handsome barbarian. the idea even of flirtation was quite inconceivable. nevertheless, it was strange that he should be so imperceptive of her charms. doubtless, his eyes were blind to the refinements of beauty. they should be opened. it would be dreadful if the fellow should grow away from the girl who was waiting for him. and yet--josephine checked her thoughts, and blushed a little. but a plan matured. that plan was followed diplomatically when she secured a private interview with her father, after the return on board the yacht. "daddy, dear," she said, with a manner as casual as she could contrive, "let's keep this mister higgins on board. he's bound for new york, but in no particular hurry. we'll get him there in about ten days." mr. blaise, who was a plethoric, fussy little man, adamant to all the world save his only child, regarded her now in perplexity, his shrewd eyes a bit mischievous. "i don't imagine it's to be the stereotyped romance, just because you dragged him out of the sea," he said. "the chap has the makings of considerable of a man in him, and he's good-looking enough to catch a girl's fancy; but he's not your sort. so, why?" "besides," josephine retorted, smiling, "florence has the same right in him as treasure trove. that would make the romance too complicated." "why?" mr. blaise repeated. "i've never met anyone like him," the girl explained, with truth, if not all the truth. "he's unique. i want to study him. such knowledge is broadening--better than books." "bosh!" was the comment. "you mean, he's just a freak to you, and you'd like to look him over a little longer. there's no harm in that, if it amuses you. but don't be silly about broadening yourself." he regarded his daughter critically. "and leave out the deserts. they're too broadening, if you like. you're getting plump." josephine accepted this meekly, in her satisfaction over having her way as to the new guest. "i'll go and invite him, right away," she exclaimed. "he'll liven us up." but her father wrinkled his brows in doubt. "what about the effect on the young fellow, himself?" he demanded. "it can't do him any good, josie. that sort of thing's unsettling, you know." josephine attempted no reply, as she went on her way. her father could not see the flush that touched her cheeks. through such devious ways did it come to pass that the mountaineer entered a world of which he had never even dreamed. his own complete ignorance of social conditions prevented him from appreciating the marvel wrought by fate in his behalf. in the simplicity of his character, he accepted the change as a perfectly natural event in the world that he had set out to explore. it was this simplicity, which kept him from undue self-consciousness, that carried him safely through what must otherwise have been an ordeal. he accepted what had befallen thankfully, and sought to learn what he best might from the novel environment. his interest was conspicuously in others, not in himself. he was greedy of information, lavish in liking. by a benign miracle, there were no snobs in the yachting party, which included also two young men, and two of the owner's age, besides josephine's aunt. this chaperon was a motherly soul, and, in sheer kindliness of heart did much to make the situation easy. the informality of the party, too, was a tremendous advantage to the young man, though he never guessed it. on the contrary, he accepted things as they were enthusiastically, with never a thought of dismay. in flannels loaned him by the largest guest, which fitted too snugly, he presented an appearance so excellent that mr. blaise was moved to pinch his daughter's ear, while reminding her of the stereotyped romance. such was the cause of plutina's wearisome waiting for the letter that did not come. zeke found, to his distress, too late that an interval of a week or more must elapse before a letter posted in bermuda could possibly reach the mountains. but, beyond that, there was nothing to disturb the girl who loved him. the heart of the lad amid the luxuries of life on the yacht was unchanged in its devotion. it was, indeed, as if he saw all things as a frame for her. he was forever thinking how plutina would look here or there, in connection with this or the other. the gowns of the three women, were viewed critically in relation to the mountain girl. he would imagine her loveliness enhanced by the sheen of silk, by the films of lace, by the lusters of jewels. josephine thought once when she appeared in a dainty evening frock, not too daring, that she had penetrated his armor of aloofness, for he blushed hotly as his eyes went to her neck, and his gaze fell. she was deceived. he remembered in that moment, how he had once kissed the soft whiteness of plutina's throat, where the homespun gown lay open. now, memory of the warm bliss of that kiss sent the blood racing and tingling. that self-deception was as near as josephine ever came to triumph. florence understood, to some extent, at least, the mood that influenced her friend. a feminine intuition inspired in her a like ambition to pierce this young savage's reserve. through her own feeling, she readily divined that of josephine. thus, the two became unconfessed allies in the employment of their wiles against an unsuspecting victim. it was, indeed, the lack of suspicion on his part that irritated them to the point of exasperation. he was so utterly innocent of their manoeuvers against his peace! both of the girls were attractive beyond the average. josephine, a plump blonde, ingenuous of manner, sophisticated, capricious, yet not spoiled, egotistic, but winsome, full of electric vitality; florence, taller and darker, with an air more sedate, yet doubtless capable of deeper and more enduring emotions. each possessed excellent features, and the fascinations of radiant health, sufficient culture, and the most exquisite refinements of personal detail. they deserved the humble admiration of any man. they expected tender adulation from most, and from most they received it. at the outset a certain impassivity on the part of this wild mountaineer excited their astonishment, then, quickly, their dissatisfaction. they were moved to a caprice against his calm, against this indifference that was an affront. they had no wish to work him serious harm, but his disregard was intolerable. since the heart of neither was engaged, there was no jealousy between them in the affair. since each was secretly ashamed of her motives, there was no confidence between them. their failure, in the lazy days and evenings of voyaging and of rambling in the bermudan islands, was undeniable. it was the more aggravating since the young man patently admired them. even, his admiration was excessive, almost reverential, at times. yet, it was altogether impersonal. they came eventually to know that this mountaineer regarded them with warm friendliness, with a lively gratitude, with a devoted respect, with a certain veneration. but that was all. no dart from their quiver of charms touched to the passionate heart of him--nor ever could. from whichever side the shafts were thrown, always they were shattered against a white shield, and fell harmless. that shield was plutina. one night, as the yacht neared new york, josephine and zeke sat together, watching the scud of clouds across the moon. the mountaineer spoke softly, after an interval of silence. "the clouds is runnin' thar jest as i've seen 'em lookin' out across the valley from stone mounting--with plutiny." there was a caress in his voice. josephine checked an ejaculation of impatience. the savage was incorrigible--quite! him, and his everlasting plutina! perverse curiosity overcame discretion. perhaps, too, after all, he only needed guidance. she tried to believe, though vainly, that only shyness prevented him from improving an opportunity any other man would have coveted. "tell me," she said softly, with a sympathetic lure in her tones, "is plutina so very beautiful?" the lure was effective. zeke turned to her with the hazel eyes darkly luminous in the moonlight. "tiny's beautiful," he answered tenderly; and there was music now in the slow drawl. "i 'low she's the most beautiful woman in the world." "i'm afraid you're prejudiced," josephine objected, with a disarming laugh. "of course, you ought to think so, but, really you know, you haven't quite seen all the beautiful women in the world. now, have you?" "all i need to," was the confident assurance. "why," he continued with an apologetic smile for his boldness. "i done seen you-all, miss blaise, an' i reckon you-all are about as beautiful as a woman kin be--'ceptin' plutina." the tribute was potent from its very unexpectedness. it eased the chagrin from which vanity had suffered. evidently, her charms were not disregarded. it was simply that this lover had given his heart, and that he was loyal. the girl sighed a little enviously at the realization. she knew too well that many, perhaps most, in her world were not loyal, even when their hearts were given. she wondered if, in truth, there awaited her the boon of a like faithfulness. yet she persevered in her probing. "out in the world," she said musingly, "where things are so different from up in your mountains, you may change. it may be you won't want to go back, to the hills--to plutina." a flush of wrath burned in zeke's cheeks, visible in the gloom. "hit ain't fittin' fer you-all to say no such thing, miss blaise. but i kin fergive ye, kase ye hain't seen our mountings. they hain't no other place more beautiful. mister sutton done told me so, an' he's been all over the hull world. an', besides, hit's home. a man what don't love his home country better'n any other--why, mum, he's jest a plain skunk.... an' plutiny, she's the best part o' home. there hain't no land so beautiful, nor no woman. no, mum, i sha'n't change--never! i kain't!" and josephine knew that it was so, and once again she sighed. chapter xi uncle dick, as he was universally known in the mountains, had celebrated his eightieth birthday before his granddaughters, plutina and alvira, by leaping high in the air, and knocking his heels together three times before returning to the ground. there was, in fact, no evidence of decrepitude anywhere about him. the thatch of coal-black hair was only moderately streaked with gray, and it streamed in profuse ringlets to his shoulders. his black eyes were still keen; the leathery face, with its imperious features, was ruddy. he carried his six-foot-three of bone and muscle lightly. as of the body, so of the heart. the springs of feeling in him showed no signs of drying up. on the contrary, they threatened to gush forth in a new flood over the widow brown, on whose plump prettiness, hardly dimmed by her three-score years, he looked with appreciative and ardent eyes. indeed, his conduct justified the womenfolk of his household in apprehensions, for witness to the seriousness of the affair was afforded the morning after the raid on dan hodges' still. he demanded of alvira that she burn the grease from an old skillet with great care. "if they's a mite of hit, hit makes a scum, an' floats off the gold on hit," he explained. the sisters regarded each other in consternation, but forebore questioning. when he had mounted his mare, and ridden away, plutina spoke with bitterness: "i reckon mis' higgins done hit the nail on the haid 'bout gran'pap an' the widder brown." alvira nodded. "yep. hit means business, shore, if he's a-gallavantin' over to pleasant valley to pan gold. hit means he's aimin' to marry her." she waxed scornful, with the intolerance of her sixteen years. "hit's plumb ridic'lous--at his age." "seems like he was 'most ole enough to git sense," plutina agreed. "mebby we're mistook 'bout his intentions," alvira suggested, hopefully. "o' course, he git's a heap of enjoyment settin' to widder brown. but he hain't got to be plumb foolish, an' marry her. i guess as how hit's fer you-all he's arter the gold kase zeke'll be comin' home by-'n'-bye." plutina shook her head dubiously. it was the custom of the lover himself to seek, in the gold-bearing sands of the tiny mountain stream to the west, for the grains from which to fashion a ring for his sweetheart. many a wife of the neighborhood wore such proudly on forefinger or thumb. the old man was not fond enough of toil to undertake the slow washing out of gold there unless for a selfish sentimental reason. and her fears were confirmed that afternoon by zeke's mother whom she visited. "they hain't nary chance to save him no more," the old woman averred, lugubriously. "hit's allus been said hyarbouts as how a feller allus gits his gal shore, if he pans her a ring in pleasant valley." "huh--girl!" quoth plutina. yet this amorous affair was of small moment just now to the granddaughter, though she voluntarily occupied her thoughts with it. she hoped thus to keep in the background of her mind the many fears that threatened peace, by reason of her part in the night's work. she knew that she could trust the secrecy of marshal stone, but there was the possibility of discovery in some manner unforeseen. there was even the chance that suspicion against her had been aroused in ben york. she could not bear to contemplate what must follow should her betrayal of the still become known. it was a relief to be certain that the two men she chiefly dreaded would be in jail, and unable personally to wreak vengeance. it was improbable, she thought, that persons so notorious and so detested could secure bail. but, even with them out of the way, the case would be disastrous on account of her grandfather's hatred of the revenue officers, and more especially, of those among his own people guilty of the baseness of informing. should her deed come to his knowledge, it would mean tragedy. she dreaded the hour when he should hear of the raid, and was glad that he had gone away, for in all likelihood he would have the news before his return and the first shock of it would have passed.... so it fell out. uncle dick rode briskly toward the little stream that tumbles down the mountain west of air bellows gap, where long ago men washed for gold in feverish desire of wealth. now, none sought a fortune in the branch grit, where a day's labor at best could yield no more than a dollar or two in gold. only devoted swains, like himself, hied them there to win wherewithal for a bauble with which to speed their wooing. uncle dick chose a favorable spot, and washed steadily until the blackened old copper skillet itself shone like the flecks of gold he sought. when he ceased he had a generous pinch of the precious dust carefully disposed in a vial. he hid the skillet to serve another day, and set out on his return. before he crossed garden greek, a neighbor, whom he met on the trail, told him of the raid. eager for all particulars, uncle dick turned his mount into the high road, and hurried to joines' store. the single-footing mare carried him quickly to this place of assembly for neighborhood gossip, where he found more than the usual number gathered, drawn by excitement over the raid. the company was in a mixed mood, in which traditional enmity against the "revenuers" warred against personal rejoicing over the fate fallen on dan hodges, whom they hated and feared. from the garrulous circle of his acquaintance, uncle dick speedily learned the history of the night. the account was interrupted by the coming of a clerk to the store door. he waved his hand toward the group on the steps to command attention. "you, uncle dick!" he called. "no'th wilkesboro' wants ye on the telephone." wondering mightily at the unexpected summons, the old man hurried to the instrument. "hello! hello!" he roared, in a voice to be heard across the miles. "be that you-all, uncle dick?" the question came thinly. "yep. who be you?" "hit's dan hodges. i reckon you-all done hearn 'bout last night." "yep. i shore have hearn a heap," uncle dick acquiesced, sourly. "i tole ye to quit, the officers air gittin' so a'mightly peart. they hain't no more chance fer a good set o' men to make a run--to say nothin' of a wuthless gang like your'n.... what ye want o' me?" the reply was explicit enough. "the hearin' 's to-morrer 'fore the united states commissioner. marshal stone says the bail'll be two thousand dollars, cash or land. they hain't nobody kin put hit up, 'cept you-all, uncle dick. an', if ye don't, ben an' me'll have to lay in jail till fall. if ye'll he'p me, uncle dick, ye know dan hodges won't never fail ye." "that's what i'm afeared on," uncle dick retorted, glumly. "i 'most know 'twas you-all an' yer gang kilt thet-thar heifer o' mine in cold blood. now, the ole man ye've treated dirt is yer las' chance. wall, cuss ye! i'll come down t'-morrer an' bail ye out--not kase i love ye any, but kase i'm again the revenuers. an' listen 'ere! i'm some old, but i'm some spry yit, ye bet! you-all stop round these parts whar i kin keep an eye on ye till fall cote. if ye don't, damn ye!--wall, my ole rifle's bright an' 'iled, an' i'll git ye! jest remember thet, dan hodges: i'll git ye!" and with this grim warning, uncle dick slammed the receiver on its hook, and stalked out of the store. on the following day, he journeyed duly to north wilkesboro', where, despite the protest of his lawyer, he put up his land as security for the appearance of the two malefactors. uncle dick was a consistent conservative. had the accident of birth made him an english squire, he would have been a stanch tory, would have held the king's commission on the bench of justices, and would have administered the penalties of the law with exceeding severity against poachers. having been born in the blue ridge mountains, he staked his property in behalf of two scoundrels, for the sake of an inherited feud against the federal authority. nevertheless, his personal distrust of the men he had thus relieved was made manifest when, immediately after the commitment of the two before the commissioner, he betook himself to a hardware store, where he bought a forty-one caliber colt's revolver, with a holster and a box of cartridges. he had given up the habitual carrying of weapons on his seventy-fifth birthday, as unseemly and unnecessary for one of his patriarchal years. now, he reverted to the use as a measure of prudence. "the damned dawg's done me dirt, an' he hain't above doin' hit ag'in," he muttered, as he strapped the holster beneath his left arm. to his womankind, uncle dick spoke of the affair casually, concealing his apprehensions. neither of the granddaughters ventured remonstrance, though alvira's pretty face was mutinous, and plutina felt a sickening sense of calamity rushing upon her. it seemed to her the irony of fate that her own relation should thus interfere to render abortive the effect she had risked so much to secure. she realized, with a shrinking misery, that the sufferers from her act were now at liberty to inflict vengeance upon her, should suspicion be born in them. for the first time in her life, plutina experienced a feminine cowardice, bewailing her helplessness. there was none to whom she might turn for counsel; none, even, in whom she might confide. it was no mere chimera of fear that beset her. she was far too sensible and too strong for hysterical imaginings. but she knew that her peril was real and grave. in the face of it, she felt suddenly a new longing for the absent lover. hitherto, her fondness had been tender and passionate, touched with the maternal protectiveness that is instinctive in every woman. now, a new desire of him leaped in her. she yearned for rest on his bosom, secure within the shelter of his arms, there to pour forth all the story of her trouble, there to hear his voice of consolation, there to be at peace. she touched the fairy crystal that lay between her breasts, and she smiled, very sadly, and very wistfully. "zeke will shorely come," she whispered, "if i need him--bad enough." there was a tremor in her voice, but it was not of doubt. chapter xii early in the morning following his trip to north wilkesboro' uncle dick siddon rode off to pleasant valley, there to prosecute his sentimental labors for the pleasuring of the widow brown. alvira fared abroad on some errand to a neighboring cabin. plutina, her usual richness of coloring dimmed by a troubled night, was left alone. in the mid-forenoon she was sitting on the porch, busy over a pan of beans, which she was stringing for dinner. as she chanced to raise her eyes, she saw dan hodges coming up the path. at sight of the evil lowering face, repulsion flared hot in the girl. the instinct of flight was strong, but her good sense forbade it. she felt a stirring of unfamiliar terror in the presence of the man. she scorned herself for the weakness, but it persisted. her very fear dictated the counsels of prudence. she believed that in dissimulation lay her only possibility of safety. the thought of any intercourse with the moonshiner was unspeakably repugnant, yet she dared not risk needless offense. nevertheless, the first effect of her resolve was a self-contempt that moved her to wrath, and made her opening speech more venomous even than it had been otherwise. "howdy, my little honey?" hodges called out as he shambled to a halt before her. his coarse features writhed in a simper that intensified their ugliness. his coveting of this woman was suddenly magnified by sight of her loveliness, flawless in the brilliant light. the blood-shot eyes darted luxuriously over the curving graces beneath the scant homespun garment. the girl sensed the insult of the man's regard. it, rather than the insolent familiarity of address, provoked her outburst. "shet yer mouth, dan hodges," she snapped. "i've done told ye afore, ye kain't 'honey' me. if ye wants to pass the time o' day, jest don't fergit as how hit's miss plutiny fer you-all." hodges gaped bewilderedly under the rebuke. then he growled defiantly. [illustration: _clara kimball young under the direction of lewis j. selznick._ bad blood between rivals.] "wall, i'll be dogged! quite some spit-fire, hain't ye? reckon i know what's a-bitin on ye. ye're mad kase uncle dick tuk the mounting land ye gals look to heir to, to bail me and ben." he stared at the girl ominously, with drawn brows. his voice was guttural with threatening. "so be ye mout hev to eat them words o' your'n. mebby, when i've done tole ye a thing er two, ye'll be a-askin' of me to call ye 'honey.' mebby, ye'll want to hover yer ole 'hon,' arter i let's ye know a thing or two 'bout the doin's o' you-all an' thet damned little runt, thet reportin' dawg sweetheart o' your'n--zeke higgins." the girl was stricken. she understood the outlaw's reference. somehow he had gained certain knowledge of zeke's part in saving the quaker-school-teacher spy. she realized that the criminal gang would not hesitate at the murder of one who had thus foiled them. for the moment, she gave no heed to the danger that menaced herself as well. her whole concern was for her lover. the single comfort came from the fact of his absence. much as she had been longing for his coming, her prayer now was that he should not return until these men were imprisoned. with a fierce effort toward bravery in the face of catastrophe, plutina stood up, and drew herself proudly erect. her dark eyes flashed wrathfully. she spoke with disdain: "ye wouldn't dast say that to zeke higgins' teeth. mebby, he hain't so thick through as you-all, and he hain't so thick-headed, nuther. an' he hain't no runt, as ye'd find quick 'nuf, if so be's ye dast stand up to him, man to man, 'stid o' with a gun from the laurel. he's a man--what you-all hain't. he hain't the kind to layway from the bushes, ner to be a-stealin' his neighbor's cattle an' hawgs. an' what's more dan hodges, ef ye say as how zeke ever reported ary still, ye're a hell-bustin' liar!" her jibes were powerless against the coarse-fibered brute. he grinned malevolently as he jeered at her. "thar, now! hain't it a pity to have a sweetheart what hain't brave 'nuf to stand 'is ground, an' runs off, an' leaves 'is gal to fit fer 'im." then, abruptly, the moonshiner's expression changed to one meant to be ingratiating. "wall, now, miss plutiny, i shore likes the way ye stan's up fer the pore cuss. but, arter all, hes' done up and left ye. an' he hain't comin' back. hit wouldn't be healthy fer him to come back," he added, savagely. "an' what's more, ye hain't a-gwine to jine 'im whar he's at. the hodges' crowd won't stan' fer no sech! he's been writ, zeke higgins has, with the sign o' the skull an' the cross--the hull thing. ye know what thet means, i reckon." plutina blenched, and seated herself again, weakly. it was true, she knew the fantastic rigmarole, which made absurd the secret dictates of these illiterate desperadoes. but that absurdity meant death, none the less--death for the one she loved. in her misery, she listened almost apathetically as hodges went on talking in his heavy, grating voice. "zeke higgins knows as how the allens give us the word 'bout 'is crossin' bull head with the spy. he knows thet, if 'e shows up in this-hyar kentry ag'in, the devil's pot'll have 'im fer a b'ilin'. an' thet's 'nuf fer zeke's case. now, we'll jest chin a mite 'bout your'n." there was a little interval of silence, in which the girl stared unseeingly toward the splendors of the blossoming rhododendrons that fringed the clearing. the apathy had passed now, and she listened intently, with self-control to mask the despair that welled in her heart. it seemed to her that here was the need for that dissimulation she had promised herself--need of it for life's sake, however hateful it might be, however revolting to her every instinct. so she listened in a seeming of white calm, while the flames shriveled her soul. the man straightened his great bulk a little, and regarded the girl with new earnestness. into his speech crept a rude eloquence, for he voiced a sincere passion, though debased by his inherent bestiality. "plutiny siddon, i've knowed ye, an' i've craved ye, this many year. some way, hit just seemed as how i couldn't he'p hit. the more ye mistreated me, the more i wanted ye. hit shames me, but hit's true as preachin'. an' hit's true yit--even arter seein' yer bare futprint tracks thar on the branch, alongside them of a man with shoes--the damned revenuer what got us. ye showed 'im the place, plutiny siddon--cuss ye, fer a spy!... an' i craves ye jest the same.... an' i'll have ye--right soon!" at this saying, terror mounted high in the girl. the thing she so dreaded was come to pass. she forgot, for a few moments, the threats against her lover. despair crushed her in the realization of discovery. her treachery was known to the man she feared. the peril she had voluntarily risked was fallen upon her. she was helpless, at the mercy of the criminal she had betrayed--and she knew that there was no mercy in him. she shrank physically, as under a blow, and sat huddled a little, in a sudden weakness of body under the soul's torment. yet she listened with desperate intentness, as hodges went on speaking. she cast one timid glance toward him, then dropped her gaze, revolted at the grotesque grimaces writhen by the man's emotions. "harkin to me, miss plutiny!" he pleaded, huskily. "harkin to me! i knows what i'm a-doin' of. they hain't nothin' ye kin do to stop me. kase why? wall, if ye love yer gran'pap, ye'll hold yer tongue 'bout all my talk. yep! he's done pledged his land to keep me an' ben out o' the jail-house till cote. if ye tells 'im i'm a-misusin' o' ye, he'd cancel the bond, an' try to deliver me up. i knows all thet. but he wouldn't cancel no bond, an' no more he wouldn't do any deliverin' o' me up. kase why? kase he'd jest nacherly die fust. thet's why. the land'd be good fer the bond jest the same till fall. thet'd give me an' ben a heap o' time to git ready to light out o' this-hyar kentry. they hain't nary pusson a-goin' to bother us none. they knows hit's healthier a-mindin' their own business. i been dodgin' revenuers fifteen year, an' i'll dodge ag'in, an' take my savin's along, too. an' they's quite some savin's, plutiny." hodges paused, as if to give greater impressiveness to the conclusion of his harangue. his voice as he continued held a note of savage finality. "so, ye understand, plutiny, i hain't afeared none arter what i done told ye'll happen, if so be ye talk. i knows ye love yer gran'pap, an' hain't a hankerin' fer 'im to be murdered. now, i'm gwine to leave ye till t'-morrer, to git kind o' used to the idee as how ye're gwine to leave this-hyar kentry with me arter i pays yer gran'pap the money fer the bail. if you-all is so plumb foolish as to say no, hit 'll jest leave yerself an' yer kin in the hands o' we boys to reckon with. do as i'm a-sayin' on, an' i'll shore fergit 'bout yer reportin' the still. i'll jest 'low to myself as how ye was only a gal, an' used damn' poor jedgment. i hold hit were powerful unkind o' you-all, seein' as how we-uns hain't never wronged ye none. i suspicion ye had hit figgered out as how zeke could come back 'ere a'gin if ye had me kotched. wall, little missy, dan hodges air jest a mite too cunnin' fer ye." the boaster gloated over his cowering victim, malice sparkling in his lustful eyes. it seemed to the girl that she was in truth hopelessly ensnared by fate. her harried thoughts ran in a circle, dizzily. she could find no loophole for escape from the net. the mesh of the outlaw's deviltry was strong; her flutterings were feeble, futile. she found one ray of comfort in zeke's absence. she forgot it in distress for the danger to her grandfather. then, horror for herself beat upon her spirit. but a memory of her first resolve came to her. from stark necessity, she put her whole reliance on an effort to temporize. she felt that her only recourse in this emergency must lie in deceiving the ruffian who thus beset her. much as she abhorred him, she had no choice. there was none to whom she could appeal for succor. she must depend absolutely upon her ability to beguile him. she must hide the revulsion inspired by his mere presence. she must arm herself with the world-old weapons of her sex, and by wiles blind him to the truth of her feeling, gain time for--something, anything! at least here was room for hope, uncertain, absurd even, yet hope. a little color crept to her pallid cheeks. if she could but manage the deceit to secure delay until the fall. she raised her eyes furtively toward the adversary, an appraising glance, as if to judge his gullibility. the brutish passion of the man showed in the pendulous lower lip, thrust forward a little, in the swinish lifting of the wide-flaring nostrils, in the humid glowing of the inflamed eyes. a nausea of disgust swept over her. she fought it down. then, with hypocrisy that amazed herself, she met his ardent stare boldly, though with a pretense of timidity. she spoke with a hesitant, remonstrant voice, as if in half-hearted protest, "hit's dangerous to talk hyar, dan," she said. she assumed a pose of coquetry. "if i agrees to save gran'pap an' 'is land, an' takes ye, have ye got money 'nough fer us to git along among the furriners down below?" a pleased smile showed. "an' could ye buy me purty clo's an' sech-like? don't ye dast lie to me, dan hodges, fer a woman wants plenty o' nice fixin's. an' if ye means hit all, like ye says, i'll meet ye at holloman gate t'-morrer at twelve, an' give ye yes er no." the moonshiner received with complacence this evidence of yielding on the girl's part. he had, indeed, the vanity that usually characterizes the criminal. it was inconceivable to his egotism that he must be odious to any decent woman. plutina's avaricious stipulation concerning money pleased him as a display of feminine shrewdness. he was in nowise offended. the women of his more intimate acquaintance did not scruple to bargain their charms. from such trollops, he gained his estimate of the sex. the sordid pretense by plutina completed his delusion. the truckling of familiars had inflated conceit. he swelled visibly. the finest girl in the mountains was ready to drop into his arms! passion drove him toward her. plutina raised her hand in an authoritative gesture. she could feign much, but to endure a caress from the creature was impossible. somehow, by some secret force in the gesture, his advance was checked, he knew not why. "not now, dan," she exclaimed, sharply. she added a lie, in extenuation of the refusal: "alviry's in the house. besides, i got to have time to think, like ye said. but i'll be at the gate t'-morrer." hodges accepted her decree amiably enough. he was still flattered by her complaisant attitude toward his wooing. "ye're talkin' sense, plutiny--the kind i likes to hear. i'll be thar, waitin' fer ye, ye kin bet on thet." then his natural truculence showed again in a parting admonition: "an' don't you-all try fer to play dan hodges fer a fool. if so be ye does, ye'll wish to god ye hadn't." with the threat, he turned and went lumbering down the path, to vanish quickly within the shadows of the wood. chapter xiii after his day of toil in pleasant valley, uncle dick siddon sprawled at ease on the porch, smoking his pipe, and watching with mildly sentimental eyes the rosy hues of the cloud masses that crowned stone mountain. his mood was tranquilly amorous. the vial in his pocket was full of golden grains. presently, he would fashion a ring. then, heigh-ho for the parson! he smiled contentedly over his vision of the buxom widow brown. her placid charms would soothe his declining years. a tempestuous passion would be unbecoming at his age. but the companionship of this gentle and agreeable woman would be both fitting and pleasant. really, uncle dick mused, it was time he settled down. one should be sedate at eighty. but he sighed. a horseman appeared over the brow of the hill. the horse traveled slowly, as if wearied by many miles. a single glance at the erect, soldierly figure made known to uncle dick that this was a stranger, and he watched intently. as the rider came nearer, he hesitated, then guided his mount toward the clearing. uncle dick perceived, of a sudden, that the left sleeve of the stranger's coat, which was pinned across the breast, was empty. at the sight, a great sadness fell on him. he guessed the identity of the horseman. his soul was filled with mourning over a shattered romance. he fairly winced as the rider drew rein before him, with a cheery, "howdy?" there was a curious constraint in uncle dick's voice, as he made hospitable answer. "howdy, yerse'f, stranger? 'light, an' come in." "i hain't time to 'light," the traveler declared. "jones is my name. what mout your'n be?" uncle dick descended the steps, regarding the visitor intently. there was a perceptible aloofness in his manner, though no lack of courtesy. "my name passes fer siddon. i 'low ye hain't familiar round these-hyar parts?" "i'm right-smart strange, i reckon," was the admission. "but i was borned forty-mile south o' here, on the yadkin. my father owned the place daniel boone lived when he sickened o' this-hyar kentry, kase it wa'n't wild 'nough. i'm kin ter boone's woman--bryant strain--raised 'twixt this-hyar creek an' air bellows." "wall, say ye so!" uncle dick exclaimed, heartily. "why, i knowed ye when ye was a boy. you-all's pap used to buy wool, an' my pap tuk me with 'im to the boone place with 'is spring shearin'. thet makes we-uns some sort o' kin. ye'd better 'light an' take a leetle breathin' spell. a drink o' my ole brandy might cheer ye. an' ye know," he concluded, with a quick hardening of his tones, "hit's customary to know a stranger's business up in these-hyar mountings." the horseman took no offense. "i rid up to the balcony jest to make inquiry 'bout a friend what i hain't seed in a right-smart bit, an' who i learnt was a-livin' a lonely widder's life on guarding creek. could you-all direct me to the abode o' one widder brown? i hev some private an' pussonal business with the widder. hit's a kind what don't consarn nary human critter but me an' her." uncle dick sought no further for information, but issued the requested direction, and moodily watched the horseman out of sight. then, with a sigh that was very like a groan, he moved away toward a small outbuilding, in which was a forge. here when he had set the forge glowing, he took from his pocket the vial of gold dust, and emptied the contents into a ladle. when the metal was melted, he poured off the dross, and proceeded to hammer the ingot into a broad band. eventually, he succeeded in forming a massive ring of the virgin gold. but, throughout the prosecution of the task, there was none of that fond elation which had upborne him during the hours while he gathered the material. on the contrary, his shaggy brows were drawn in a frown of disappointment. he cursed below his breath from time to time, with pointed references to one-armed veterans, who dast come back when they hadn't orter. he was still in a saddened and rebellious mood, when he returned to the porch, where he found his granddaughters seated at some sewing. his face lightened a little at sight of them. "guess i got my han's full 'nough o' women-folks, anyhow," he muttered. "fine gals they be, too!" he regarded them attentively, with a new pride of possession. "i 'low i hain't a-kickin' much of any. i reckon like 'nough i be settled down right now, only i didn't know 'nough to know it." he chuckled over this conceit, as he seated himself, and became uncommonly sociable, somewhat to the distress of plutina, who found it difficult to conceal her anxiety. dusk was falling when the horseman reappeared. this time there was no hesitation, as he turned from the road into the clearing. uncle dick rose, and shouted greeting, with labored facetiousness. "wall, mister jones, i 'lowed as how ye mout be the tax-collector, arter the widder's mite, seein' how long ye was a-hangin' on up thar. me an' the gals'd feel a right-smart consarn to lose fanny brown fer a neighbor, if she was pushed too hard fer her debts." "mister siddon, suh," the stranger answered promptly. "i opine you-all hain't half-bad at a guess. i be a tax-collector, so to speak, a debt-collector. hit's a debt contracted fifty-year agone. fanny brown done tole me as how you-all been good neighbors o' her'n, so i don't mind tellin' ye she's willin' fer me to collect thet-thar debt o' mine." there was an expression of vast complacency on the veteran's face, as he stroked the tuft of whisker on his chin, and he smiled on his three auditors half-triumphantly, half-shamefacedly. "i got cheated o' her oncet by being too slow. i hain't goin' to do no sech foolishness ag'in. t'-morrer, if the clerk's office is open, i'll git the satisfaction piece an' preacher roberts'll tie the knot good and proper--amen!" uncle dick sighed audibly at the announcement, but his chagrin was given no further expression as he invited the victorious rival to dismount and partake of his hospitality. alvira received the news with bubbling delight, which showed gaily in her sparkling black eyes and dimpling cheeks. even plutina was heartened by the discovery that her grandfather's folly, as she deemed it, must end, though there could be no gladness in her by reason of the fear. it was after the supper was done, when the visitor's horse stood at the door, that uncle dick took a sudden resolve. "alviry," he ordered, "you-all come hold this-hyar hoss, a leetle minute, whilst me an' 'im has a confab." he led the puzzled veteran to a bench beneath a locust, out of earshot of his granddaughters, who regarded the proceeding curiously, and not without apprehension since they knew the violent temper of the old man when thwarted. they were relieved to perceive that his demeanor remained altogether peaceable. "hit's jest this-away, seth jones," uncle dick began at once, after the two were seated side by side on the bench. "ye see, i knew you-all, an' yer name an' yer business, soon's i sot eyes on ye. hit were thet-thar danglin' sleeve o' your'n as ye rid up the path what done hit. i knowed then as how my fate was sealed, s' fur's the widder brown's consarned. fanny done told me about you-all an' yer disapp'intment. she allers said, arter her man died, as how ye'd be a-comin' 'long, though i was hopin' ye wouldn't--cuss ye! excuse me--no offense intended. the widder an' me has been clost friends, an' i told her from the first as how i respected the claims of this-hyar jones galoot, if so be he turned up afore we got hitched. an' now hyar ye be--dang hit!" the veteran cleared his throat apologetically. his own happiness made him exaggerate the injury thus wrought by his reappearance. he ventured no remark, however. he could not say that the woman in the case was hardly worth troubling over, and, for the life of him, he could think of nothing else in the way of consolation. he discreetly cleared his throat a second time, and maintained a masterly silence. but the garrulous old man at his side needed no encouragement. he quickly resumed his discourse, with a certain unctuous enjoyment, distinctly inconsistent with his love-lorn pose. "seth jones," he announced solemnly, "if you-all an' me was young ag'in, an' fired by the passion o' youth, thar wouldn't be no love-feast hyar jest now like this un. no, sirree! hit'd shore be war a-twixt we-uns--with hell a-poppin' at the end on't fer one, mebby both. but my blood don't git het up now the way hit use' to did. i'm thinkin' fer the widder's sake hit's good ye're younger ner me, an' got more years to give 'er. so, mr. jones, when all's said an' done, i'm glad ye come to guarding creek." then, uncle dick, in his turn, displayed some slight symptoms of embarrassment, and cleared his throat in a manner to shock a drawing-room. "an' now i got jest one leetle favor to ax o' ye, seth jones. you-all knows as how the gals in this-hyar kentry air partic'lar proud to have a weddin' ring made from the gold washed out o' the soil in pleasant valley by their sweetheart. wall, i talked a heap 'bout hit to fanny, an', when she showed signs like she'd give in to me, i went an' panned the gold fer the ring. fanny'd be right-smart disapp'inted not to have a lover-made ring, i reckon. so, bein' as you-all only got one arm, i wants ye to take this-hyar ring, an' wed her proper with the blessin' an' best wishes o' uncle dick siddon." he offered the ring, which was gratefully accepted, and the two old men parted on excellent terms. * * * * * at eleven o'clock the next morning, uncle dick was sitting on the porch, when he saw a horse passing over the trail toward the south. in the saddle was the erect, spruce figure of the one-armed veteran, seth jones. and, on a blanket strapped behind the saddle to serve as pillion, rode a woman, with her arms clasped around the man's waist. it was the widow brown, dressed all in gala white. it was, indeed, heigh-ho for the parson! uncle dick stared fixedly until the two had vanished beyond the brow of the hill. then, at last, he stirred, and his eyes roved over his home and its surroundings wistfully. he sighed heavily. but he himself would have been hard put to it to tell whether that sigh held more of regret, or of relief. chapter xiv while her grandfather was still on the porch, and her sister was out of the house, plutina possessed herself of the new revolver, with its holster, which, after slipping down her gown from the shoulder, she attached under the left arm-pit. the looseness of the ill-fitting garment concealed the weapon effectually enough. for ready access, the upper buttons to the throat were left unfastened, in seeming relief against the heat of midday. thus equipped, the girl stole out through the back way, unobserved by her relations, to keep tryst with the desperado. as she followed a blind trail that shortened the distance between the siddon cabin and the holloman gate to a short two miles, plutina was torturing a brain already overtaxed in the effort to devise some means whereby she might wreck the projects of the villain, without at the same time bringing ruin on herself, or those she loved. always, however, her thoughts went spinning toward the same vortex of destruction. she could, indeed, contrive nothing better than the policy of cajolery on which she had first determined, and to this course, as it seemed to her, she must cling, though her good sense was well advised of its futility. she knew that a scoundrel of hodges unrestrained passions could not long be held from his infamous purposes by any art of hers. at the best, she might hope perhaps to delay the catastrophe only by hours. in her discouraged state, she admitted that it would be quite impossible to restrain him until the law should come to her aid. she was determined none the less to employ every resource at her command, in order to postpone decisive action. one thing was at once her chief reliance and her chief source of fear: the outlaw's passion for her. in his brutal fashion, the man loved her. that fact gave her power over him, even while it exposed her to the worst peril at his hands. the presence of the revolver comforted her mightily. from time to time, she moved her right hand stealthily across her bosom, to reassure a failing courage by feeling the stiff leather of the holster under the gown. she was experienced in the use of weapons. her rifle had often contributed to the cabin larder. muscles that knew no tremor and a just eye had given her a skill in marksmanship much beyond the average, even in this region where firearms were forever in the hands of the men, and familiar to the women. once, her moving fingers felt the little bag hanging from its leathern thong about her neck, in which was the fairy crystal. the hardness of her expression vanished on the instant, and in its stead was a wonderful tenderness. a world of yearning shone in the dark lustres of the eyes, and the curving lips drooped in pathetic wistfulness. her soul went out toward the distant lover in a very frenzy of desire. she felt the longing well in her, a craving so agonized that nothing else mattered, neither life nor death. had the power been hers then, she would have summoned him across the void. the loneliness was a visible, tangible monster, beating in upon her, crushing her with hideous, remorseless strength. her man must come back! it was the mood of a moment, no more. even as she thrilled with the anguished longing she lifted her eyes, and halted, aghast at the scene before her. there, close at hand to the southeast, stone mountain upreared its huge and rugged bulk. it loomed implacable, with the naked cliffs staring grotesquely. it overhung her like immutable fate, silent, pitiless. there was sinister significance in its aspect, for just before her lay the cavernous shadows of the devil's cauldron. the girl's gaze went to the verge of the precipice far above. it followed down the wild tumblings of the little stream, fed from lofty springs. it descended in the last long leap of the waters into the churning pool. and she had a vision of the man she loved, bound, and helpless--dead perhaps, shot from behind--and now thrust out from the verge into the abyss, to go hurtling into the mist-wreathed depths.... no, zeke must not come back. the hardness crept again into her face, as she went forward. she held her eyes averted from that gruesome cavern high in the mountain's face. the girl came soon to the holloman gate, which swung across the trail near the west end of the mountain. tall poplars and spruce made an ample shade, but a glance toward the sun showed it at the zenith. she was prompt to the rendezvous; it was the lover who was laggard. she wondered a little at that, but with no lightening of her mood. she was sure that he would come all too speedily. she stood waiting in misery, leaning listlessly against the fence, her gaze downcast. the geranium blossoms touched the sward richly with color; the rhododendrons flaunted the loveliness of their flowering round about the spot. a delicate medley of birds' songs throbbed from out the thickets; a tiny stream purled over its pebbled bed in the ravine that entrenched the trail. plutina gave no heed. she saw and she heard, but, in this hour, she was without response to any charm of sight or of sound. yet, that she was alert was proven presently, for her ear caught the faint crackle of a twig snapping. it was a little way off--somewhere along the line of the brush-grown fence, on the same side of the trail. she peered steadily in the direction of the noise. when her eyes became accustomed to the shadows, she made out the figure of a man, crouched in a corner of the fence, behind the screen of a bush. he was no more than three or four rods from her. she was sure even that she recognized him--gary hawks, one of the most vicious of the hodges gang, but notorious for cowardice. she was puzzled for only a moment by the presence of the fellow. then, she realized that he doubtless was acting under his leader's orders. it was another menace against her own safety. the fingers of her hand went once again for encouragement to the holster beneath her arm. plutina gave no sign that she had discovered the lurking man's presence. but, after a minute, she retraced her steps a little way along the trail, until she came to a point where there was a clear space on either side, which was out of hearing from the fence line. she had scarcely reached the place, when hodges appeared, his bare feet trudging swiftly. his head, too, was bare. in the hollow of his left arm lay the long rifle. he was approaching from the east, and halted at the gate, without having observed the girl beyond it. he whistled a soft note as a signal if she should be anywhere about. plutina called out softly in answer. "hyar, dan!" as he looked toward her, she beckoned him to approach. hodges shook his head in dissent, and, by a gesture, bade her come to him. but, when she showed no sign of obeying, he moved forward, scowling, ferociously. the girl seemed undaunted. she spoke curtly in rebuke: "'pears to me, dan hodges, like ye hain't very prompt, seein' as how i've been a-waiting hyar a quarter-hour fer ye. when a man loves a gal, he gen'rally gits to the place sot ahead o' her. ye hain't a-startin' right to win me, dan, an' so i'm a-tellin' ye fair." "you-all orter have more sense than hang out hyar in the sun. come back to the gate, under the shade o' the sarvis bushes." he turned away, but paused as the girl made no movement to follow. "what in hell's the matter on ye?" he demanded, angrily. "this place in the rud hain't fitten fer talk, nohow." "hit's fitten 'nough fer me," plutina retorted, quietly. a mellow laugh sounded. "seems to me this-hyar bright sunshine orter warm yer love up some, dan. we'll stay hyar, i reckon. i'm afeared o' snakes an' eavesdroppers an' sech critters thar in the shade." the man was racked by many emotions. he had come swiftly under the hot sun, and the haste and the heat had irritated him. the sight of the girl moved him to fierce passion of desire. he was aflame with eagerness to take her within his arms, there where were the cool shadows. her indifference to his command exasperated him; her final refusal infuriated him. in the rush of feeling he lost what little judgment he might otherwise have had. he had meant to placate her by a temporary gentleness, to be offset by future brutalities. now, in his rage, he forgot discretion under the pricking of lawless impulse. he reached out and dropped a huge hand on plutina's shoulder, and twisted her about with a strength she was powerless to resist. the clutch of his fingers cut cruelly into her flesh, firm though it was, and she winced. he grinned malevolently. "git back thar as i done tol' ye," he rasped; "afore ye git wuss." with a deft twist of the body, plutina stood free. the face, which had paled, flushed darkly. the eyes blazed. the head was uplifted in scorn. her aspect awed the man, and he hesitated, gaping at her. yet her voice was very soft when she spoke. the tone surprised her listener, rendered him strangely uneasy, for some reason he could not understand. "thet ten minutes ye was late was more'n i had need fer, dan hodges," she said. "i promised ye yer answer hyar, an' i'm a-goin' to give hit to ye right now." she lifted an arm, and pointed to where the devil's cauldron blotched the cliffs of the mountainside ... it was her left arm that she lifted. "look, dan! see thet-thar big hole in the wall. i been a-lookin' at hit, dan. i 'low you-all don't dast look at hit. mebby ye're afeared o' seein' the bones o' them hit holds--bones o' dead men--what you-all an' yer gang hev kilt an' slid into the pot, to lie hid till jedgment. hit's thar ye're aimin' to put my zeke. why, a haar o' his head's wuth more'n the hull caboodle of sech murderers as yew be." she stepped closer to the outlaw, and spoke with unleashed hate. he flinched at the change. "i was skeered o' ye back thar on the piazzy yist'-day, an' i lied to ye, kase i was skeered. i wasn't a-likin' the look in them pig eyes o' your'n. an' i was a-feared o' gran'pap's hearin' how i reported the still. wall, now i hain't skeered no more. i promised ye yer answer at the gate. we'll move over thar, an' i'll keep my promise." before he could guess her purpose, before he could shift the rifle from the hollow of his arm, the fingers of plutina's right hand had slipped within the open bodice. the colt's flashed in the sunlight. the level barrel lay motionless, in deadly readiness. for the girl, though not yet quite sure, was almost sure that she would kill dan hodges. the idea had not come to her until this meeting. in all the racking hours of thought, this simple solution of the difficulty had never entered her mind. now, at its coming, she welcomed it with infinite relief. it offered a means of escape so simple and so sure--escape for herself and for those she loved. it was the touch of the man that had wrought the miracle of revolt. she had felt herself polluted by the contact. on the instant, the hypocrisy of cajoling was no longer possible. but there was more in the effect than that. the savagery of the outlaw aroused the savagery in her. she became, in the twinkling of an eye, the primitive woman. there was little in the sentiment of her people to dam the outburst. her kin had followed the lex talionis. they had killed their fellows for the sake of their proper pride. the blood-feud was familiar to her, and she knew no shame in it. why should she not slay this creature who outraged her self-respect, who threatened her every hope? her finger on the trigger of the revolver tensed ever so slightly. the man felt the vibration of her impulse and cringed. he was in a daze before this violence of attack, where he had expected only supine yielding. in his creed, the beating of women marked manliness. the drabs he had caressed crept and fawned under his blows, like whipped curs. he could not realize this challenge by the girl with his own method of might. but he saw clearly enough through the haze of fear that the blue barrel was trained exactly upon him, that the slim hand held it rigid, and he knew that, in this instant, he was very, very close to death. the red of his face changed to a mottled purple. he felt himself trembling. plutina perceived the abject terror of the man. it mitigated her wrath with scorn, and so saved him for the moment. she cried out to him fiercely, her voice rough with abhorrence. "to the gate fer yer answer, ye cowardly houn'. move quick, er i'll drap ye in yer tracks, ye murderin' wolf. do as i say!" she moved another step toward him. her voice rose shrill: "drap thet rifle-gun!" the weapon slipped from hodges' nerveless fingers, and fell on the turf with a soft thud. "put up yer han's!" cowed, the man thrust his long arms to their length above his head. "now, turn round, an' march to the gate!" there was no faltering in the obedience. the hulking bully knew that he was in mortal peril. for his life's sake, he dared neither word nor gesture of resistance to the girl's will. his only hope was that the hidden ally might somehow come to his aid. but the hope was feeble. he knew the other's craven spirit. plutina, too, knew it. as she drove her captive to the gate, she peered, and saw the crouching figure still in the shadows behind the bush. the colt's cracked. even as hodges shuddered, imagining the tearing of the bullet through his own flesh, there came a shriek of pain from beyond him. the hidden man leaped forth, his right arm dangling clumsily. he scrambled into the cover of the spruces and vanished. the noises of his flight lessened, died. "i've scotched a snake," plutina said, malignantly. "hit's about time to kill the dawg, i reckon. turn round." then, when he had obeyed, she went on speaking. "now, hyar at the gate, i'll tell ye somethin'. you-all 'lowed ye could git me with money. if ye had all they is in the world, hit wouldn't be enough. an' ye thought i tuk money fer reportin' the still. wall, i didn't. i reported thet-thar still o' your'n kase i seed ye a-settin' b'ar-traps fer humans, an' hit made me hate ye even wuss 'n i done hated ye afore." somehow, the flame of her fury was dying. the girl felt this, and bitterly resented it, yet she was powerless. it seemed to her that with all the strength of her nature she was desirous of killing this enemy. he stood cowering before her in dread. her finger on the trigger needed only the slightest flexing to speed the death he merited. and, for some occult reason, the will to slay failed her. she was enraged against her own weakness of resolve. nevertheless, she was helpless. her mood had reached its climax in the impulsive wounding of the other man. now, her blood was losing its fever. with the slowing pulse, the softer instincts prevailed to thwart her purpose. despite an anguished eagerness, she could not kill this trembling wretch. she loathed her frailty, even as she yielded to it. she must let him go unscathed, a foe the more dangerous after this humiliation. of no use to threaten him, to extort promises. there was no truth in him. he must be left free to work what evil he would. oh, if only the wrath in her had not died too soon! "put yer han's down, an' march up the trail," she commanded, presently. her voice was lifeless. the man drew new hope from the quality of it. he ventured no resistance to the command, but went padding softly through the dust. behind him, plutina followed, her bare feet padding an echo. her right hand hung at her side, but it retained the revolver, ready for instant use. as she came to hodges' rifle, she picked it up, and threw it far down into the ravine. at the clattering noise of its fall, the outlaw started, but he did not pause in his stride, or turn. the girl's whole soul was convulsed with longing that he should make some effort of revolt--anything. then, she would shoot and kill--oh, so gladly! but the instinct to live guided the man. he trudged meekly. there was no excuse against him. so, they came at last near to the siddon clearing, where a little path ran through the wood toward the house. here, plutina paused, without a word. she was ashamed of herself, grievously ashamed of this softness of fiber that had spared a life. without a word, she watched him pass along the trail, up the slope, and out of sight beyond. her face was drawn and white, and the great eyes were brooding with bitterness, when, finally, she stirred, and moved forward in the path. she slipped the revolver into its holster. then, her fingers went to the bag that held the fairy cross to her breast. she fondled it tenderly. she was longing as never before for the giver of the talisman. chapter xv plutina had no sleep the night following her encounter with dan hodges. throughout the dragging hours, she was tortured by sinister imaginings. she exhausted her brain in futile strivings for some means of escape from the mesh of circumstance. it was not until the gray twilight of dawn shone through the curtains that a possibility of relief stirred in her mind. it was out of desperation that the idea sprang. she felt herself so utterly forlorn and helpless in her loneliness that the despair was overpowering. it was then, at last, that the inspiration came to her: she would confess everything to her grandfather! though she quailed before the prospect, she rejoiced as well. the old man was strong and resourceful. he would know how to meet and overcome the outlaw's villainy. moreover, now that her decision had been made, plutina was surprised to find her alarm over such confession greatly lessened from what she had supposed possible. she began to realize that some intangible change in her grandfather himself was responsible for this. she became convinced that the new gentleness had had its origin in the unselfish abandonment of his marital hopes. it was as if that renunciation had vitally softened him. perhaps, in this strange mood, he would be less intolerant of her fault in turning informer. his prejudice could find no excuse for her treachery, she knew, yet the peril in which she had involved herself, and him, might arouse his pity. assuredly, he would be moved to instant action for both their sakes. for that reason alone, if for no other, she must tell him her story without a moment of unnecessary delay. in the course of the morning, plutina took advantage of an opportunity, whilst her sister was busy in the garden, and went to her grandfather, who was taking his ease on the porch. she was encouraged by the mild and benignant expression on the old man's face, which had been more often fierce, as she remembered it through the years. she seated herself quietly, and then proceeded immediately to confession. there was no attempt at palliation of her offense, if offense it were. she gave the narrative of events starkly, from the moment when she had first seen hodges descending luffman's branch to the time of her separation from him at the clearing, on the yesterday. throughout the account, the listener sat sprawled in the big willow rocker, his slippered feet resting on the porch rail. the huge body was crumpled into an awkward posture, which was never changed, once the history was begun. the curved wooden pipe hung from his lips, black against the iron gray cascade of beard, but he did not draw at it again, after the opening-sentences from his granddaughter's lips. plutina, looking down, perceived that the folded hands, lying in his lap, were clenched so strongly that the knuckles showed bloodless. yet, he made no movement, nor offered any word of comment or of question. when the girl had made an end, and sat waiting distressedly for his verdict, he still rested mute, until the silence became more than she could endure, and she cried out in pleading: "kain't ye fergive me, gran'pap?" uncle dick turned, and looked reproachfully at the distraught girl. a great tenderness shone from the black eyes, in which age had not dimmed the brilliance. as she saw the emotion there, a gasp of rapturous relief broke from plutina's lips. the stern restraints of her training were broken down in that moment. she dropped to her knees by the old man's side, and seized his hands, and kissed them, and pressed them to her bosom. he released one of them presently, and laid it gently on the dusk masses of his grandchild's hair in silent blessing. his voice, when at last he spoke, was softer than she had heard it ever before. "why, tiny, ye mustn't be afeared o' yer ole gran'pap. i thinks a heap o' my kin, an' ye're the clusest. i loves ye gal--more'n anythin' er anybody else in the world, though i wouldn't want alviry to hear thet. i hain't mindin' what ye done none. i'd stan' by ye, tiny, if he had the hull cussed gov'ment at yer back. i hain't got no likin' fer revenuers, but i got a heap less for dan hodges." he paused for a moment and lifted his hand from the girl's head to stroke the gray beard thoughtfully, before he continued: "i been thinkin' a right-smart lot o' things jest lately. i 'low i'm a-gittin' old, mebby. an' i opine as 'tween the revenuers and dan hodges, i hain't so much agin the gov'ment as i was." again, he fell silent, as if in embarrassment over an admission so at variance with the tenets of a lifetime. then he spoke with sudden briskness: "but ye'd orter a-killed the critter then an' thar, tiny!" "i jest somehow couldn't, gran'pap. i'm shore sorry." the girl felt poignant shame for the weakness thus rebuked. "i 'low i hain't likely to have no sech feelin's a-holdin' o' me back," uncle dick remarked, drily. "hit's my foolishness bailin' 'im out got us in the pizen mess. i 'low i'll cancel the bond. but, fust, i'd have to take the skunk to the jail-house, dead er alive. he'll stan' some urgin', i reckon." "ye'll be keerful, gran'pap," plutina exclaimed anxiously, as she stood up. "now, don't ye worrit none," uncle dick ordered, tartly. his usual rather dictatorial manner in the household returned to him. "you-all run along. i want to think." the girl went obediently. the reaction from despair brought joyousness. of a sudden, she became aware of the blending perfumes of the wild flowers and the lilting of an amorous thrush in the wood. her lids narrowed to dreamy contemplation of the green-and-gold traceries on the ground, where the sunlight fell dappled through screening foliage. fear was fled from her. her thought flew to zeke, in longing as always, but now in a longing made happy with hopes. there might be a letter awaiting her from new york--perhaps even with a word of promise for his return. she smiled, radiant with fond anticipations. then, after a word of explanation to alvira, she set off at a brisk pace over the trail toward cherry lane. the girl went blithely on her way, day-dreaming of the time when zeke should be come home to her again. she stopped at the widow higgins' cabin, to receive felicitations over the escape of uncle [illustration: _clara kimball young under the direction of lewis j. selznick._ "when zeke comes home again."] dick from fanny brown. plutina was not minded to harass the older woman with the tale of dan hodges. the outlaw's threats against zeke would only fill the mother's heart with fears, against which she could make no defense. otherwise, however, the tongues of the two ran busily concerning the absent one. and then, soon, plutina was again hurrying over the trail, which the bordering wild flowers made dainty as a garden walk. once, her eyes turned southward, to the gloomy grandeur of stone mountain, looming vast and portentous. the blur of shadow that marked the devil's cauldron touched her to an instant of foreboding, but the elation of mood persisted. she raised her hand, and the fingers caressed the bag in which was the fairy crystal, and she went gaily forward, smiling. * * * * * uncle dick, meantime, was busy with sterner thoughts, and his task was harmonious to his musings, for he was cleaning and oiling his rifle with punctilious care. he did not hasten over-much at either the thinking or the work. the shades of night were drawing down when, finally, he hung the immaculate weapon on its hooks. he ate in solitary silence, served by alvira, who ventured no intrusion on this mood of remoteness with which she was familiar from experience. the old man had determined to go forth and seize, and deliver to the custody of the law, the person of dan hodges. at the best, he would surprise the outlaw, and the achievement would be simple enough; at the worst, there would be a duel. uncle dick had no fear over the outcome. he believed himself quicker and surer with the rifle than this scoundrel of half his years. at grips, of course he would have no chance. but the affair would not come to grips. he would see to that. he went to bed contentedly, and slept the peaceful sleep of wholesome age, undisturbed by any bickerings of conscience. it was while he was dressing, next morning, that a measure of prudence occurred to uncle dick. during the period of his absence, it would be well for plutina to avoid risk by keeping in the cabin, with her rifle at hand. there was no telling how audacious the moonshiner might become in his rage over the ignominy to which the girl had subjected him. at the breakfast-table, he spoke sharply to alvira, as she placed the plate of fried ham and eggs before him. "tell tiny, i'm a-wantin' her." "tiny hain't hyar yit," was the answer. "hit's time she was." "whar's she gone!" uncle dick demanded, gruffly. he detested any interruption of his plans. "tiny stayed over to the widder higgins's las' night," alvira explained. "hit's time she come back." uncle dick snorted with indignation. "she didn't say nothin' to me 'bout stayin' over thar," he said crossly. "nor to me, nuther," alvira declared. "she never does beforehand. when the widder higgins kind o' hangs on, tiny jest stays, an' comes back in the mornin'. she orter been 'ere afore now." uncle dick pushed away the plate of food, half-eaten. dread had fallen on him suddenly. he tried to thrust it off, but the weight was too heavy for his strength of will. perforce he yielded to alarm for the girl's safety. a great fear was upon him lest it be too late for the warning he had meant to give. he growled a curse on his own folly in not guarding against immediate attack by the outlaw. it was with small hope of finding his apprehensions groundless that he set forth at once, rifle in hand, for the cabin of the widow higgins. there, his fears were confirmed. the old woman had seen nothing of plutina, since the short pause on the way to the post-office. uncle dick groaned aloud over the fate that might have come on the girl. he told enough to give the widow higgins some understanding of the situation, and bade her go to his own house, there to remain and to comfort alvira. for himself, he would first search over the cherry lane trail for any trace of his vanished granddaughter, and thereafter raise the hue-and-cry to a general hunt through the mountains for the capture or killing of the villain, and the recovery of the girl, dead or alive. not for an instant did the old man doubt that hodges had done the deed. uncle dick had no more than passed luffman's branch on his way over the cherry lane trail, when a joyous hail caused him to lift his eyes from their close scrutiny of the beaten earth. descending the trail, a little way in front of him, appeared the slender, erect form of the one-armed veteran. the bridegroom moved with a jaunty step, and his wrinkled features radiated gladness. but, as he came near, his face sobered at sight of the other's expression. his voice was solicitous. "i 'low somethin' air wrong," he ventured. uncle dick in his distress welcomed the note of sympathy. somehow, he felt curiously drawn to this successful rival, and he was sure that his feeling was returned. between the two men there was a curious mutual respect, as if each relied on the entire good sense of one who had loved fanny brown. the older man craved a confidant; he was avid for counsel and every possible assistance in this emergency. he told the facts as concisely as possible, while seth jones, wedded raptures forgot, listened in growing sorrow and dismay. at the end, he spoke simply: "i'll take a look 'long with ye, mister siddon. i done a heap o' trackin' in my time, out west. perhaps, i kin he'p ye some." uncle dick put out his hand, and the two palms met in a warm clasp, witness of friendship's pact. forthwith, they gave themselves to minute examination of the trail for any sign of the missing girl. for a time, their patient search went unrewarded. but, about a half-mile beyond luffman's branch, they came on an area still affected by one of the small showers so frequent in the mountains. here, the veteran's alert eyes distinguished a footprint outlined in the damp dust. "yer gal was barefut, i reckon," he said. he pointed to the imprint just before where he was standing. "yep," uncle dick answered. there was a little mist over his eyes, as he glanced down. "yep; hit's her'n." the veteran went forward confidently now. "she was a-steppin' plumb brisk," he declared; "feelin' pretty peart, i 'low; feet kind o' springy-like." uncle dick shivered at the words. he had a ghastly vision of plutina moving at this moment with painfully dragging steps somewhere afar in the fastnesses of the mountains. but he said nothing of the worst fears to his companion. he only followed on, watching closely lest something escape the other's survey. almost, he found himself hoping they might come on the girl's dead body. death is not the worst of evils. after a mile, or a little less, the area of the shower was passed. uncle dick could hardly distinguish any sign of the footprints in the heavy dust of the trail, but he accepted without question the veteran's assertion that they were easily perceptible to the trained sight. suddenly, seth jones halted, and peered intently, stooping low. uncle dick, too, bent to look, but the faint markings in the dirt were without significance to him. the veteran moved to the roadside and searched on hands and knees over the yard of grass between the trail and a thicket. when he stood erect again, he regarded his companion inquiringly. "they seem to be the tracks o' some mighty-big, hefty cuss, what come out o' these-hyar bushes, an' tuk along arter her. kin ye make a guess who hit mout be, mister siddon?" uncle dick's face grew black with a rage that was the more frightful because it had no object on which to vent itself. "hit's him!" he mumbled thickly, choking over the effort for self-control. abruptly, he abandoned the attempt. his big voice boomed forth in a torrent of blasphemous imprecations. when, finally, he rumbled into silence, and stood panting for breath, the veteran, who had appeared to listen with great interest and perhaps some pleasure, spoke soothingly: "you-all was shore some eloquent, an' i 'low the ornery critter deserves every mite on hit. an', anyhow, i reckon ye done saved yerse'f a stroke. ye was a-lookin' like ye'd bust, but ye let off the steam a-cussin' 'im out. now, let's see." he went back to the trail, and advanced very slowly, for the markings were faint even to his skilled eyes. uncle dick, trembling a little from the violence of his outburst, followed faithfully, but he could no longer detect traces of the passing of either man or girl. thus, in slow progress, they came at last to the fork of the trail. this is at the extreme easterly slope of bull head mountain, which rises from the north side of the valley as if in sullen rivalry of stone mountain below. in the division of the trail here, one branch ascends toward glade creek, across the mountain, while the other keeps on straight to cherry lane. within the fork of the trails lies a fallen giant of the coves, a huge yellow poplar, almost hidden along its length by the embowering thickets. toward this, in an advance tediously slow, the veteran made his way. when, finally, he was come up to the great bole, he stood quietly for minutes, gazing everywhere round about. uncle dick, emulating his companion, peered earnestly, and soon he, too, perceived the evidences that something out of the ordinary had occurred just here. over a considerable space next the trunk there were signs of a struggle. broken branches showed on some of the bushes; leaves from the poplar shoots were lying on the grass; the turf was freshly torn here and there. the veteran bent over, and picked up an object from the ground, which he held out. uncle dick gave one glance, and uttered a cry of despair. he recognized it as a button from the dress plutina had been wearing the day before. the further search of the veteran achieved little. he was able only to make sure that the footprints led off through the forest toward the south. but, now, the impressions were no longer of one following the other. instead, it was revealed that the two walked side by side. uncle dick groaned as his companion told him of this. plutina had been attacked; she had fought; she had been overcome--and she was still alive! chapter xvi with the news of the event, a flame of wrath swept through the coves. everywhere, the men gathered in parties, to hunt, rifle in hand, for some trace of the outlaw. there was none to give him favor, save the outcasts numbered among his dependants. the usual sympathy for the illicit distiller ceased utterly, destroyed by hatred for the criminal's final offense. for the first time in the history of the mountains, there was no voice raised to protest--nor any rifle pointed in the laurel--against the federal officers, who wandered at will in the wild places. in execration of dan hodges for his sin against the peace and dignity of the community, the people forgot for the nonce their ancient enmity against the government. with one accord, the folk of the mountains joined in abhorrence of hodges, sullenly anxious to bring about his punishment, to avenge his victim at least, if too late to save her. seth jones turned from the joys of the belated honeymoon to give every aid in his power. his counsel and the comfort of his presence were boons to uncle dick. the veteran had learned from his bride concerning the disfavor in which zeke was held, and the reason for it. it seemed to him the part of wisdom, in this crisis, to feign ignorance, and he blandly suggested, on the return of the two from the fallen poplar, that they should ride to joines' store in the evening, there, over the telephone, to dispatch a telegram to zeke in new york. it was the psychological moment for success. there was not even a flicker of resentment aroused. uncle dick remembered that the quaker school-teacher spy had been saved by zeke from dan hodges. in his new mood, that fact was enough to overcome all rancor against the lad. moreover, he realized the tragedy of plutina's fate to her lover, and he was moved to compassion. he accepted the veteran's suggestion without a word of remonstrance. it was seth jones, too, who broke down the old man's last prejudice by persuading him to summon marshal stone. uncle dick yielded with an odd mingling of emotions--shame and relief: shame over such trafficking with the "revenuers," whom he had consistently fought and despised through three generations; relief that he had gained the strong arm of the law to his side. he had been greatly heartened when stone answered over the wire that he would set out with a posse at midnight for the siddon cabin, so that, after a conference there, the active work of searching could be begun promptly at dawn. thus, it came about that, for the first time in history, uncle dick siddon welcomed the sound of hoofbeats pounding up the trail through the darkness. where, aforetime, he would have leaped to wind a blast of warning to the moonshiners above against the coming of the "revenuers," the old man now hastened to the cabin door, and flung it wide, and went forth on the porch to give grateful greeting. when a council had been held, three parties set forth. seth jones was the guide for one, which went to the northeast, through the bull head mountain region, whither, in all likelihood, the outlaw would make his way, if he meant to escape out of the country. the marshal, with one companion, skirted stone mountain. uncle dick led two of the posse to the yellow poplar where the struggle had occurred, after which they would follow the general direction of the tracks. the marshal expected to make a circuit of the mountain rapidly enough to effect a junction with uncle dick's party by noon, at the woodruff gate. the veteran and his two men, who would have by far the roughest going, were not to report until sundown at the siddon cabin. from the poplar, uncle dick and the deputies were able, with great difficulty, to follow the tracks of the outlaw and his prisoner toward the south for a full mile. but at this point, an expanse of outcropping rock baffled them completely. search as they would, there was no least sign of footsteps anywhere. after an hour of futile questing, they gave up in despair, and hurried to the rendezvous at the woodruff gate. the marshal and his men had already reached the gate, and stone had wherewith to give the distraught grandfather new hope. "i came on their tracks a mile below where you lost them," he explained. "they still keep to the south. we followed as far as the sand bar below sandy creek falls." "come on!" uncle dick cried, fiercely. "let's arter 'im this-yer minute." the marshal shook his head at the old man's enthusiasm. "we're not much better off yet," he declared. "we found the place where he camped last night. 'twasn't far. i reckon the girl made his going as slow as she could. she naturally would." uncle dick nodded somberly. "but the trouble is, the trail ends at the sand bar--ends absolutely." "we'll find hit ag'in," uncle dick exclaimed, stoutly. "we jest got to find hit. come on!" the marshal urged the other to rest in preparation for the hard climb--down the ridge, and then up the sharp slopes and ledges of the mountainside. but the old man would have none of it. so, straightway, the two moved off, leaving the others, less hardy, to repose, and in due time they came to the bar below sandy creek falls. high among the embattled cliffs of stone mountain's eastern end, sandy creek races in tumultuous course. the limpid stream cascades in vertical sheen of silver from ledge to ledge. it writhes with ceaseless noisy complainings through the twisting ways of bowlder-strewn gorges. here and there, in some placid pool, it seems to pause, languid, resting from its revels of flight. such a pool lay at the foot of the longest fall. a barrier of sand circled from the cliff as the brim for this bowl of the waters. to this point, marshal stone and uncle dick were now come. the tracks were plainly discernible in the sand, along the edge of the pool. there were the huge misshapen outlines of the outlaw's bare feet, deep-sunken from the heavy weight of the man. beside them showed the slender prints made by the captive, lightly pressed. these tracks followed the curving bar, along the water's edge. they reached to the foot of the cliff, close to where was the outer edge of the cataract. there they ceased. the marshal, already familiar with the mystery, and baffled by it, searched again perfunctorily. uncle dick hunted hither and yon with feverish activity, at first confidently, then doubtfully, finally in despair. he, in his turn, could find no further clue. he gave over his efforts eventually, and stood silent beside the marshal, staring bewilderedly. about the amphitheatre formed by the pool, pines grew in a half-circle, save where the narrow channel of the stream descended. but between the barricade of the trees and the basin of water lay the smooth stretch of sand, slightly moist from out-flung spray of the falls. upon that level surface, the tracks showed forth--undeniable, inexplicable. they marched without deviation straight to the base of the great cliff. there, within a little space, they grew confused, as from much trampling. but they did not return; they did not go elsewhere. there was a clear distance of a rod over the sand to the rocky ground where the trees grew. on the other side lay the deeps of the pool. before them reared the impassible wall of the precipice. and there the tracks ended. uncle dick knew the place well, and on that account the mystery was the greater. he could find no possible explanation, however wildly improbable, of that disappearance. the broad sheet of the falls fell close to the cliff's face. the rock was unworn by the torrent, without recess or cavern. and that precipice, twice the pool's width, mounted sheer a hundred feet, the height of the cascade. the front was unbroken save by tiny rifts and narrow ledges, where dwarfed ground pines clung precariously. with a muttered curse, the old man turned from his vain contemplation of the cliff, and let his troubled eyes rest on the pool. suddenly, he started. he remained motionless for a moment, then, with nervous haste threw off his shirt, and trousers. marshal stone, chancing to look that way, was astonished to see his companion naked, poised at the water's edge. he had time to note with admiration the splendid figure, still supple and strongly muscled despite the four-score years. then uncle dick leaped, and dived. it was long seconds before he reappeared, only to dive again. he paid no attention to the marshal's remonstrances. only when he was convinced of the uselessness of further search in the pool's depths, did he give over the task, and cast himself down on the sand to rest, panting and trembling a little from fatigue. "they hain't thar," he said, with grim conviction. then he voiced the question that hammered in his brain: "whar be they?" but the marshal had no answer. as they made their way drearily back toward the woodruff gate, the officer broke a long silence: "only a blood-hound can trail them!" the gloom of uncle dick's expression did not lighten. "they hain't nary one in the mountings," he answered, heavily. "none nearer than suffolk, virginia," the marshal said. "cyclone brant has a couple of good ones. but it would cost a lot." the old man flared. "fer god's sake, git thet-thar feller an' his dawgs. i hain't axin' what hit 'll cost. hit was my money got thet-thar damned cuss out o' the jail-house. i hain't likely to begrudge anythin' hit 'll cost to git him kotched. an' plutiny!--why, money don't matter none, if i can save plutiny!" "i'll send for brant to-night," the marshal promised, with new cheerfulness. "let's hope he's not off somewhere. they send for him all over the country. if the dogs start day after to-morrow, they'll still find the scent." uncle dick groaned. "an' her a-lyin' out with thet-thar wolf all thet while," he mumbled, in despair. "mebby, this very minute, she's a-screamin'--callin' to her ole gran'pap to save her. my plutiny!" he walked with lagging steps; the tall form, usually so erect, was bowed under the burden of tormenting fears. the marshal, understanding, ventured no word of comfort. it was late afternoon when the dispirited searchers reached the siddon clearing on their return from the fruitless day's work. there, they were astonished to see the widow higgins come down the path toward them, at a pace ordinarily forbidden by her rheumatic joints. she waved a paper in her hand. "hit's a telegraph," she called shrilly. her voice held something of the awe with which remoter regions still regard that method of communication. but there was a stronger emotion still that thus sent the old woman dancing in forgetfulness of her chronic pains. it was explained in her next sentence, cried out with a mother's exultation in the homecoming of her beloved. almost, in joy over seeing her son again, she forgot the misery that was bringing him. "hit's from zekie! zekie's comin' home!" uncle dick could not share the mother's delight. the lover's coming could hardly avail anything toward saving the girl. nevertheless, he took the sheet of paper, which carried the message sent on by telephone from north wilkesboro' to joines' store. he read it aloud, that the marshal might hear: suffolk, va. richard siddon, joines' mill, n. c., via telephone from north wilkesboro'. arrive to-night with bloodhound. ezekiel. uncle dick's voice faltered a little in the reading. the black eyes were glowing with new hope beneath the beetling white brows, as he lifted his gaze to the mountain peaks. for the first time, he felt a thrill of jubilation over the young man whom he had rejected, whom now he accepted--jubilation for the fresh, virile, strength of the lad, for the resourcefulness that this message so plainly declared. the old man's lips moved in vague, mute phrases, which were the clumsy expressions of emotions, of gratitude to providence for the blessing of another's energy, on which to lean in this time of trial. there had been desperate need of haste in getting the hounds on the trail. now, they were coming--to-night. zeke was bringing them. perhaps, after all, an old man's declining years would know the fond tenderness of a daughter's care--and a son's. thank god that zeke was coming! chapter xvii zeke, in his new life, found little leisure for loneliness, though nightly he fell asleep with an ache of nostalgia in his heart, longing for the mountains of home and the girl who dwelt among them. but his days were filled with various activities that held his whole attention. with a mind keen and apt to receive impressions, and hungry for knowledge, he gave himself joyously to learning the details of sutton's tree-nail manufacture. the processes were, in fact, simple, and he mastered them with ease. then, he was instructed more broadly in business methods, with the purpose of making him competent when he should become a manager of the projected factory in the blue ridge region. his time was thus so fully occupied that he had neither opportunity nor inclination for social pleasures. he spent a week-end in his employer's long island home, and surprised that gentleman mightily by the propriety of his manners, which he had acquired on the yacht. on this occasion, sutton spoke definitely of his plans. the railroad branch north from the main line was now a certainty, and the construction would soon start. at that time, zeke would return to north carolina, and set about securing options on the best available timber. a mill would be built, and the manufacture of tree-nails carried on. zeke, in addition to an adequate salary, would receive a certain share of the profits. the prospect was one to delight any ambitious young man, and zeke appreciated it to the full. but most of all he rejoiced that his success should come to him in the place he loved, where the girl waited. zeke had a companion, who shared with him the tiny hall-room, and kept at his side in long evening rambles through the city streets. it came about in this wise: it was one afternoon when he had been in new york for a week, that a visitor entered, unannounced, the office where he was listening intently to sutton's crisp explanations of business routine. zeke looked up at the sound of the opening door. then, his jaw dropped, his eyes widened. next moment, he sprang to his feet, his face radiant with welcome. his phrases, in the excitement of this meeting, were the mountaineer's idioms, which new associations were beginning to modify in his ordinary speech. "why, hit's shorely miss josephine!" he cried, as he advanced upon her, with outstretched hand. he saw the dog, straining toward him on the leash. "an' thet-thar man-faced dawg!" there was a little interval of confusion, while greetings were exchanged amid the demonstrative antics of the bull-terrier. sutton was called away presently, and then the girl explained the object of her visit. "you never noticed it," she said somewhat pettishly; "but one time on the yacht, i came up on deck with chubbie. you were over by the rail. you snapped your fingers to him. i ordered him to stay with me. he wouldn't mind. he went to you. well, i decided right then what i'd do." "why, shucks, miss josephine!" zeke exclaimed, in much distress. "he jest nacherly didn't mean nothin' by thet." "he showed something by it, though," was the retort. "he showed that he belonged to you, and not to me. so, here he is." she held out the leash to zeke, who took it doubtfully, only half-comprehending. as he was about to speak, a gesture checked him. "i'm not really a bit generous in giving him to you. my dog must like me better than anyone else in the world. that's why i really don't want chubbie any longer. you're first in his heart, and i'm second. and, though i'm quite selfish about it, i know i'm doing him the greatest favor in the world--that is, if you're willing to take him." "i'd shore be tickled to death to have him," zeke admitted. "but it don't seem right." "providence seems to have arranged it that way, anyhow," josephine declared, airily. "perhaps, if a surgeon operated on him for the dent you put in his skull, he might cease loving you. but nothing else seems likely to stop him." the dog, thrusting its cold muzzle against zeke's palm, whined assent. josephine regarded her disloyal pet a little regretfully. "he's a good dog," she said, softly. "he deserves to be happy." "plutiny'll be plumb tickled to see the critter i've wrote sech a heap about," zeke remarked. his eyes were suddenly grown dreamy. "you and your plutina!" she railed. but her voice was very kindly. when she had learned of the young man's prospects and the nearness of his return home, she uttered a remark that puzzled zeke. "you don't need to envy anyone." there was a light almost of jealousy in the blue eyes. "why, i never thought o' sech a thing!" he answered indignantly. "why should i?" "why, indeed?" josephine repeated, and she sighed. she sighed again on taking leave, when she observed that the bull-terrier made no movement to accompany her, but stood steadfastly by zeke's side. * * * * * into the happy, busy routine of zeke's life in new york, uncle dick's telegram came with the crash of catastrophe. it was merely with innocent wondering that he opened the yellow envelope, which a messenger delivered in sutton's office on a pleasant summer afternoon. it was the first missive of the sort in zeke's experience, yet he felt no slightest chill of apprehension. his mood was too firmly joyous to be easily shaken. he merely wondered, and felt no fear whatever, as he pulled out the sheet of flimsy paper, and unfolded it, while his employer sat looking on curiously, himself already suspicious of trouble. zeke read the typewritten words through stupidly, under the first shock uncomprehending. then, he repeated the message aloud, as if challenging its meaning. "plutina been stolen," ran the summons. "dan hodges done it. need help." the name of richard siddon as the sender in itself told how desperate must be the situation, else uncle dick would not have summoned the suitor he had rejected. zeke stared pitifully at sutton. his eyes had the pathos of a stricken animal's. for a little, he seemed dazed by the unexpectedness of this evil. then, very soon, rage mounted blackly. sutton, listening, could not repress a shudder before the deadly hate in zeke's voice. "i'll kill dan hodges!" was the promise. the voice was low and even, but it roared in the ears of the listener. there was something terrifying in the stark savagery that showed in the mountaineer's tones and in the drawn, pallid face. but, after the one outburst, zeke maintained an appearance of hypocritical calm. only in the tremulousness of his voice when he thanked sutton did he betray the depth of his feeling. in truth, he had new reason for gratitude in this emergency to the man who already had so befriended him. "you'll want to start at once, of course," sutton said. zeke nodded assent. "well, i think i'll go with you. perhaps, i might help. it'll be better for you with somebody along." zeke offered a protest, but it was disregarded. "i know plutina," sutton said, earnestly, "and i know you, zeke. i want to help. now, i wonder--" he fell silent for a space, thinking deeply. when he spoke again it was with curt decisiveness: "it's hurrying things a bit, but not too much. i'll have you stay down there, zeke, and get after the timber as soon as you have plutina back." then, as the young man regarded him in bewilderment, he explained fully: "i've just heard a rumor that grearson and company are going to send a man down there. i'll beat them to it. i meant to start you off in a month or so. but you've learned all you need to here, and it's better to hurry, so as not to run any risk of my competitors getting in ahead. we'll get away on the train to-night." so it came about that the two reached norfolk late in the afternoon of the following day, after what had seemed to the tortured lover an eternity of listless crawling toward the mountains. now zeke felt no longer dismay over the rapid flight of the train, as in his first journeying, but only a fierce longing to cover the miles more swiftly. for he appreciated how great was the crisis. plutina had written him of her part in the raid on hodges' still, and she had expressed in some degree the apprehensions she felt. zeke was sure that, somehow, plutina's betrayal of the still had become known to the outlaw, and on this account the man had sought vengeance. the lover sickened at the thought of the form that brutal vengeance might take. often, sutton, covertly watchful, averted his glance that he might not see the despair on the mountaineer's face. the two travelers were on their way to the ferry in norfolk, when inspiration came to zeke: he bethought him of cyclone brant, and the stag-hound, jack. a few words sufficed for explanation of the matter to sutton, who welcomed the idea of securing such assistance for the search. "i kin git 'im, if he's home," zeke declared, eagerly. "he lives in suffolk, 'bout twenty miles toward wilkes. i'll try an' git 'im on the 'phone." in this, he was successful, and he was greatly cheered by the anxiety displayed by brant to be of assistance. but the detective was distressed over the delay of twelve hours that must ensue before they could get a train to north wilkesboro'. sutton removed this difficulty by ordering a special, which should be made up at once, and should stop at suffolk to take on brant and his dog. so, within the hour, the three men and the hound were rushing at rocking speed along the tortuous river course that led into the mountains. instructions had been sent ahead, by brant's suggestion, to have an automobile and driver in readiness for the arrival of the party at the north wilkesboro' station. the three men talked but little during the trip. the tenseness of suspense held them in thrall, and, for the most part, they sat in grim silence, staring out of the windows at the swiftly flitting panorama of moonlit landscape, wherein the fertile level areas changed to narrowing valleys, and these, in turn, to wild gorges, where the river ran in bellowing riot beneath lofty ramparts of stone. sutton's thoughts veered from pity for his young friend to keen calculation of profits to come from the locust timber of the slopes. cyclone brant mused on his past adventurings in these wilds. from time to time, he pulled at the ears of the stag-hound, which sat on its haunches in the aisle, balancing its big bulk elastically against the erratic joltings of the car, and regarding its master with patient adoration in the reddened eyes. zeke, too, had the single comfort of a dog's faithful fondness. the bull-terrier crouched on the seat beside its master. the squat-featured face was thrust forward, with the heavy jaw resting on zeke's lap. often, the dog whined, with a soft, whimpering note. it was as if the creature knew its master's grief, and wished to tell its sympathy. there was a curious help to the young man's courage in the eager, caressing thrusts of the cold nose against his palm. and he had need of every help, even the least, for, in this period of inactivity, the spirit within him was near to fainting. because he knew fully the depraved nature of hodges, he could not blind himself to the frightful peril of plutina in the outlaw's power. the girl's plight was one to inspire horror in any decent breast; to the lover, worshiping her as something ineffably holy, the possibility of her pollution by the brute who had stolen her away was a thing too monstrous for belief, yet not to be denied. he strove to drive the hideous thought from his mind, but, ever, it crept again into his consciousness. the sickness of his soul found its only relief in bursts of fury against the cause of this wickedness. his manhood asserted itself in a primitive lust to torture and to destroy. there were intervals of softer emotion, when he lived again the sweet raptures of hours alone with plutina in the mountain solitude. but the moods of retrospection were short, perforce. they weakened him too greatly. the very heart seemed to flow from him like water, as memories crowded. the contrast of the present was too hideous for endurance. again, the ghastly despair--the black rage, the whining of the dog, and the thrust of the cold muzzle to distract for a moment. then, once more, the agonizing round. the grinding of brakes, as the train drew to a standstill at north wilkesboro', came as a poignant relief to the three travelers. even the dogs seemed to relax from strain, and a covert hostility, which had marked their first meeting, vanished while they sniffed at each other in inquisitive, friendly fashion. the automobile was in waiting. zeke jumped in beside the driver. the bull-terrier was held firmly between his legs. sutton, brant and the hound established themselves in the tonneau. within a minute after the stopping of the train, the car was rolling rapidly over the highway toward joines' mill. the chauffeur made the best speed possible under zeke's urging, and the run was short. beyond the mill, the trail branching off the main road was rough and narrow, traversed only by horsemen and the clumsy vehicles of the mountaineers. no automobile had ever passed over it, and the party had planned to secure mounts at the mill, and to continue the journey on horseback. zeke, however, realized the advantage in continuing by machine, were this possible, and he suggested it to the driver. the man was doubtful, but, too, he was an enthusiast in his work, and the opportunity of thus climbing the mountains, where no other car had been, appealed strongly to his ambition. in the end, he consented, with a prudent stipulation concerning possible damages. so, without pause, the automobile shot forward past mill and store, and went clambering along the trail toward the northern coves. the driver ran cautiously enough, despite zeke's impatience, but, at the best, the trip was a strain on the men and on the mechanism that bore them, for the car lurched and bounced over the uneven surface, and more than once was near to being overturned. their ultimate safety was due, in great measure, to zeke himself. familiar with every foot of the way, he was able to advise the chauffeur of the more dangerous points. neither sutton nor brant had uttered a word of protest against undertaking the perils of this final stage, but both breathed a sigh of relief, when, at last, the car stopped in the clearing before the siddon cabin, and the journey was safely done. the wooden wheels of the poplar clock in the cabin were whirring for the striking of midnight, when their noise was overborne by the grotesque, unfamiliar honkings of an automobile horn. with the second of the three blasts, the cabin's door swung open, and in the light of it was silhouetted the tall form of uncle dick. "zeke!" he called; and his voice was a little broken. then, with instinctive delicacy of feeling, he stepped aside, as the young man sprang up the steps, and he stood silent, while mother and son were folded in each other's arms, murmuring endearments. but, when zeke at last turned to face the old man, uncle dick's hand went out to a powerful clasp that told how profoundly he was moved. "i'm glad ye've come, boy," he said, simply. and zeke knew that the old distrust and suspicion were gone forever, and in their stead were come affection and faith. chapter xviii zeke was astounded when he looked around the living-room and recognized marshal stone, together with the members of the posse. he suddenly became aware that the change in uncle dick was even greater than he had supposed. there had been a radical readjustment of the old man's' attitude toward life, which disposed him not only to acceptance of zeke with affection and confidence, but also to toleration of, and alliance with, the "revenuers," whom he had so consistently hated through a long lifetime. zeke refrained however, from any open expression of his amazement, and at once joined the other men in devising a plan of operations to be begun at dawn. it was decided that uncle dick should accompany the marshal and brant, with the stag-hound, to the tracks of hodges and plutina on the north face of stone mountain, near sandy creek, where the dog could take up the scent, in the hope of solving the mystery that had baffled the human searchers. then uncle dick interposed a suggestion that suited zeke well. "if so be," he exclaimed abruptly, "as how dan hodges is atop thet-thar mounting, an' he gits the dawg nigh the precipice, he might throw the critter over. he's powerful strong, dan is, an' desprit." "yes, the fellow's capable of it," stone agreed. "i'm a-thinkin' as hit mout be well fer zeke to git atop the mounting fust off," uncle dick continued, "an' watch out fer hodges. hit's pretty open up thar, and easy to waylay a body." "i'll go," zeke declared, with eagerness. the marshal directed the men of the posse to scatter to various points on the railway lines. "hodges'll probably try to get out of the country, the minute he hears the hound after him," stone explained. "all of my men have seen him, and they'll be able to stop him, if he manages somehow to cover his scent from the dog, and get off." sutton, much against his will, was forced to remain inactive at the cabin as he was not physically fitted for the hard tramping over the mountains. zeke was the prey of emotions too deep to permit much interest in a stranger, but he had a friendly, if wan, smile for the veteran, whom he remembered from their single meeting. he attempted a display of attention on hearing of the marriage so recently achieved, but the effort failed pitifully. seth jones, however, took no offence, since he understood how great must be the young man's misery. on the contrary, his sympathies were deeply stirred, and he essayed a few words meant to comfort. "an' i reckon i'll go 'long with you-all, zeke, in the mornin'," he concluded. but zeke shook his head at the offer. "i got to cross over home fer my rifle-gun," he explained, vaguely. "i clean fergot to tell ye," uncle dick cried. "yer rifle-gun's hyar, zeke. i done fotched it over fer ye." "thank ye, uncle dick," was the grave response. but the young man did not rescind his refusal of the veteran's company. uncle dick offered a share of his bed to brant and the marshal, but it was refused by both. there were blankets spread for the men on the floor of the porch, where the smoke gushed from a smudge kettle to keep off the mosquitoes. there, presently, the company stretched themselves for the brief dreamless sleep won by the day's fatigues. even zeke fell into a sound slumber, with the bull-terrier nestled at his breast. he had not thought to sleep, only to lie quiet for a little rest, and then, long before the dawn, to issue forth alone. nevertheless, his repose was profound for two hours, or more. perhaps, the stirring of the dog awoke him; perhaps, his own determination, subconsciously exerted. anyhow, he straightened up suddenly, and stared about him stupidly, reluctant to believe that he had actually slept thus, while plutina cried out for succor. he was relieved when he perceived that there was not yet even a trace of dawn in the east. he realized that it was as well, for though he had lost little time, he felt vitally refreshed, with new vigors to battle in behalf of the girl he loved. it was but the work of a minute noiselessly to possess himself of his rifle, and to descend the steps. the bull-terrier kept close at his heels. with the dog still following, zeke, pressed forward through the darkness toward stone mountain. the other sleepers were aroused by uncle dick as the first gray light was flushing to the rose of dawn over the eastern mountains. there was some astonishment at finding zeke already gone, but it subsided quickly, for all understood how great must be his anxiety. the men of the posse duly took their departure for the railway points designated by the marshal. seth jones set out in pursuit of zeke. stone, with uncle dick and brant, made ready for the actual hunting of the outlaw. "i've seen jack more than once pick up a cold trail three days old," the hound's master declared, with a manifest pride in the creature's prowess; "and run down his man. can we get hold of something to give him the scent--an old shoe, or cap--anything?" "got jest the thing fer ye," uncle dick replied, leading the way from the cabin toward one of the out-buildings. "hit's an ole coat. dan left hit one hot day when he stopped in at my forge, to tinker the rivets to the cap o' the still. hit was dum hot thet day, an' he left 'is coat. 'twa'n't wuth comin' back fer. i 'low the smell's about all thet's left to hit." brant showed the tattered garment to the stag-hound, and bade the animal smell it. the dog sniffed obediently a few times, sneezed as if in disgust of the odor, regarded its master understandingly, and then walked away. "that's all that's necessary," cyclone brant declared. "the dog and i are ready." forthwith, the three men, with the hound, set forth toward the southeast, to cut the track of the outlaw near sandy creek. they followed the trail to a point some distance beyond the woodruff gate, and then left it to ascend the precipitous slopes near the eastern end of stone mountain. they were not far from sandy creek falls, when the marshal halted, and pointed out the remains of a camp-fire. "this is where hodges stopped to cook his supper the first night," he explained. "i followed the tracks on to the creek, and up it to the falls, where i lost them. now, it's up to the dog." a growl from the hound caused the three to look up, startled. there was an exclamation from uncle dick, and the rifle leaped to his shoulder. "no, no--don't shoot!" stone ordered. he, too, had seen and recognized garry hawks, as the fellow, evidently disconcerted by their presence there, slipped stealthily into the laurel. "he'll be more useful to us alive presently," he explained to uncle dick, who had obeyed protestingly. "thet's so, likely," the old man conceded grudgingly. then he chuckled harshly, for the first time since plutina's disappearance. "got his right wing slung up! did ye see hit? tiny done hit--pore gal! purty peart at shootin', tiny is. thet-thar--" "there's a fresh track here made by hodges," the marshal exclaimed, interrupting. he pointed to a plain imprint on the dirt covering of a flat rock. brant brought his dog to the spot, pointed to the footprint, and slipped the leash. the hound lowered its head, snuffed at the ground, and gave tongue. in the same second, it was off at speed, running with muzzle low, with the continuous whining yelps that told of a warm scent. it did not vanish into the coverts as all had expected, but followed through the open place that led to the northward, skirting the wood. as the men hurried after, they caught a final glimpse of the dog two hundred yards beyond, just disappearing over a ridge. they followed the sound of its baying with what haste they might, yet slowly, by reason of the difficult going. the dog's cries guided them, much to the surprise of uncle dick and the marshal, straight toward sandy creek falls, whither the first tracks of the outlaw and the girl had led, and where they had been so mysteriously lost. as the three scrambled up a steep ascent, scarcely a hundred yards from the sand-bar, there came to their ears from the hound a high, melancholy howl. "it means that jack is at fault, somehow," brant explained in answer to a grunt of inquiry from uncle dick. "something puzzling him for a minute." the two listeners looked at each other with grave faces. was it possible, they wondered, that the hound would be baffled, even as they had been, there at the pool? but their expression lightened the next moment, for two sharp, harsh barks came from the dog, which was evidently still in the neighborhood of the falls, and its master interpreted: "jack's treed his game, sure's you're born!" the three topped the ridge, and broke into a run down the slope, their rifles at the ready. within the minute, they leaped from the thicket into the open place below the falls. then, with one accord, they stopped short and stood staring bewilderedly. the hound continued its deep-chested baying. it stood erect on its hind legs, almost to a man's height. it was supported by its fore-paws extended as far up as they would reach against the wall of the precipice, a little to the left of the waterfall. as it barked, the dog held its muzzle pointed straight upward. there could be no doubt, if the sensitiveness of the brute were to be relied on, that its quarry had, in some incomprehensible fashion, contrived to mount the sheer surface of the cliff. that the hound was sure, was made plain by the rigidity of its posture, by the fierce, challenging ululations, which pealed forth incessantly. the three men went forward presently, their gaze wandering aloft from the dog, over the inaccessible expanse of vertical cliffs. they came down to the sand-bar, and followed it around the pool, still in silence, and still with their puzzled eyes roving hither and yon for some clue to understanding of this thing. but, of a sudden, uncle dick shouted: "i see how 'tis! i shorely kotch on. looky thar!" the marshal and brant followed the direction of his pointing arm, but they saw nothing to make the matter clear--only a tiny ledge, fifty feet above them, along which grew a few bushes and clumps of ground pine. it offered no hiding-place for a child even, hardly footing for the outlaw's heavy bulk. but uncle dick shook his head to rebuke their lack of comprehension, then explained: "dan's a keen un, all right," he said, with grudging admiration. "but this-hyar time he's done left 'is mark fer my ole eyes to see. now, you-all jest throw yer eyes o' vision up the side o' the cliff ag'in. if ye looks cluss, ye kin see a streak o' dampness on the rock. hit's jet as if a mounting rattler mout 'a' dove down the rock right thar. but 'twa'n't thet. thet-thar streak is the mark of a wet rope--er mebby a grape-vine. thet's the way them devils git up an' down. i'll bet every stick o' my mounting timber them cusses got a cave up thar, offen the ledge. p'rhaps garry hawks jest got up, since we-uns seen 'im. an' the rock hain't had time to dry from the rope, er vine, a-gittin' wet in the falls. dan hodges thought he had a mighty cute place to lay out in. but he's kotched jest the same--damn 'im!... good dawg!" the change in uncle dick's voice as he spoke the last two words was startling. the two listeners accepted the old man's solution, but they did not share his enthusiasm. on the contrary, they were very grave, for the task before them appeared formidable, if not impossible, of achievement. as they continued silent, gazing upward with frowning faces, uncle dick regarded them at first in perplexity, then in rapidly-mounting apprehension. "what's a-bitin' on ye?" he demanded, at last. the marshal replied. "there's no way of getting them out of there. they're armed and not particular about murder. they can hold that fort till kingdom-come. dan could alone. there's nothing for it but to starve 'em out--if they're there." "and the trouble about that is," brant added, "that they've got the girl for hostage. it seems to me that this dan hodges has the whip-hand." for a little, uncle dick, who had paled under the tan, stood silent, looking helplessly from one to the other of his companions. then he groaned aloud. but in the next instant, he straightened to his full height. his face grew convulsed with rage, as he faced the cliff, and his great voice volumed above the clamor of the cataract: "god a'mighty damn ye, dan hodges! damn ye--damn ye!" and then again: "damn ye, dan hodges, ferever an' ferever!" chapter xix plutina's treatment of hodges had had a curious effect on that lawless character. the humiliation to which he had been subjected had indeed filled him with vicious rage, but, too, it had inflamed his passion for the girl. her scorn and her fierce mastery of him had made her more than ever desirable. he was fascinated by the strength and courage she had displayed. brutal and evil as he was, hodges was strong physically, and, in his own wicked way, strong of will. because he was stronger than his fellows, he ruled them. strength was, in fact, the one thing that he could admire. the revelation of it in plutina at once set her apart from all other women, and gave to his craving for her a clumsy sort of veneration. but that veneration was strangely modified by resolve to be avenged for the insult she had put upon him. thus, it had come about that he planned to satisfy his varied feelings toward the girl by the abduction. he swore to master her, to change her insolence to fawning submission, to abject fondness. hodges wasted no time. his sluggish brain began its scheming the moment a turn in the trail hid him from view, after the ignominious march from the holloman gate. at sunrise, next morning, he was lurking on the borders of the siddon clearing, spying on the movements of the family. he even witnessed plutina's confession to her grandfather, of which he guessed the purport, and at which he cursed vilely beneath his breath. when plutina set forth for the cherry lane post-office, he followed, slinking through the forest at a safe distance from the trail. he was not quite certain as to where or when he should attack the girl, but he meant to seize the first favorable opportunity, whether it came sooner or later. it came, as a matter of fact, very soon, and it was given by plutina herself. there at the fallen poplar, the girl found a comfortable nook on the big trunk, where her back was supported by a limb. the serenity of the scene soothed her over-wrought nerves. the sense of relief that had come from confession to her grandfather was less vivid now. in its stead was a blessed peacefulness. she watched lazily the visible details of forest life around about her. her attention centered finally on a yellow-hammer, which was industriously boring the trunk of a dead chestnut. from the nest near-by, the callow young thrust naked heads, with bills gaping hungrily. then, in a twinkling, birds and forest vanished, and she was standing on the mist-strewn steeps of stone mountain, and zeke's arm was about her, and her hand was clasped in his. so, she slept, and smiled a little in her dreams, for the touch of the breeze on her cheek seemed the caress of her lover's lips. from his lair in the laurel, dan hodges, watching, knew that his opportunity was come. the outlaw laid down his rifle, and drew from a pocket a stout leash of cowhide, a yard long. glancing from time to time at his intended victim, to see that she still slept, he hastily fashioned a slip-noose at either end of the thong. this done, he began moving forward with the utmost caution, taking advantage of the cover, that he might remain invisible should the girl awake. he held the leash in his two hands ready for instant action. a slight detour brought him around the stump of the poplar, just behind plutina. advancing with even increased carefulness now, he approached until the girl was easily within his reach. as she reclined on the tree-trunk, her left hand hung at length on the side next to him. the right arm was bent along the supporting branch, and the hand pillowed her cheek. after a moment of doubt, hodges decided that he would attempt to secure the free wrist in a noose of the leash without awakening her. it would be easy then to catch and bind the other wrist. in the confusion of sudden rousing from sleep, she would make no effective resistance. the capture would be very simple. it was, in truth, tragically simple, yet not so simple as the outlaw had anticipated. from dreams of tenderness, plutina was suddenly started to hateful realization by the scarcely perceptible touch of this being so repugnant to her every instinct. she was confused, indeed, but not too confused for frantic resistance. it needed no more than recognition of the man's brutal face so close to hers to inspire her. she fought him with every ounce of her strength. the left hand was useless, held down by his on the thong, with the noose drawn taut about the wrist. but the outlaw, though he contrived to get the other noose over her right hand, failed somehow to tighten it at once. she was able to strike at him again and again. her blows fell on his face, and they were sturdy blows. hodges made no effort to avoid them, nor struck back--only busied himself with the effort to tighten the noose. it was evident that he disdained her attack. a certain virile pride forbade defense against this onslaught of a girl. finally, he brought his left hand to aid in adjusting the second noose. in the few seconds of liberty, plutina abandoned blows, and resorted to savage clawing at the evil face. her ten nails streaked the coarse features with blood. but still he seemed absolutely indifferent to such wounds as she could inflict. then, the noose slipped to tightness. the girl's hands were brought close together behind her back, where she stood beside him. he knotted the slack of the leash, and holding the loop, grinned triumphantly at his captive. his bloody face was a mask of malice. "ye damned little wildcat," he growled, yet with an unmistakable note of admiration in his voice, "if i sarved ye 'cordin' to yer earnin's, i'd shorely tap ye over thet-thar purty haid o' your'n, an' pitch ye over into the devil's kittle, to wait fer yer runt lover to come arter ye." he twisted her about viciously. despite her strength, unusual in a woman, plutina was powerless in his grip. holding her close, face to face, he contemplated the girl's pitiable distress with gloating eyes in which there was no faintest suggestion of pity. the prisoner met the malignant gaze for an instant. then, her eyes fell, and she stood trembling. she was panting, partly from terror, partly from the violence with which she had struggled. hodges chuckled, well content over the impression he had made. he would show her how a woman should be tamed! but the thing must be done in full accord with a plan he had made. now that the captive had duly learned her first lesson in submissiveness, he might relax a little from his severity for a time. besides, too much fright might leave her helpless on his hands, which would be highly inconvenient, since there was a rough journey on foot before them. when he next spoke, he tried, without much success, to make his voice conciliatory. "thar hain't no call fer ye to be so dum skeery--leastways, not yit. i hain't a-hurtin' ye none--not yit--only jest a-tyin' yer han's to keep 'em out o' mischief. but i reckon as how ye'll hev to eat them words ye spoke to me at the gate yistiddy. i 'low ye done forgot the warnin' i gin ye 'bout playin' dan hodges fer a fool. ye're lookin' mighty sorry ye ever tried hit." he chuckled again, as he meditated a humorous effort: "ye know thet pore feller what ye winged yistiddy?" he shook his head reprovingly. "you-all shore hadn't orter never 'ave done no sech thing. garry wa'n't a-bitin' on ye none. he's hurt bad, garry is, an' he needs a nuss the worst way, garry does. an' so i come an' got ye." he guffawed over his wit. "if ye'll behave i'll let loose o' ye a mite, an' we'll stroll along a matter of a few mile to whar garry's waitin' awful impatient." suddenly, unreasoning fear surged up in plutina, brimmed over in a torrent of pleading words. she knew the uselessness of appeal to this callous wretch. but the instinct of terror in her horrible situation mastered the girl, so that she forgot pride, and besought his mercy. she was ghastly pale, and the dilated eyes were almost black, with a stricken look in their clouded depths. her voice was shaking. "lemme go dan--lemme go. ye've done got even with me now fer yistiddy. lemme go--i ax it of ye, dan. i done ye dirt yistiddy, 'cause i was scared o' ye. an' i'm scared o' ye now, dan. lemme go home, an' i won't never tell nobody how ye kotched me." she had raised her eyes beseechingly. now, as she saw the smug mockery on her captor's face, she fell silent. the futility of any pleading was too plain. her eyes shifted to the ground again. but the first wild fear was past, and she began to think with some clearness. at once, it occurred to her that she must guard her strength jealously. she had already wasted too much in vain physical struggling and in vainer emotional outbursts. she must save her energies henceforth both of body and of mind, that she might have wherewith to contrive, escape and wherewith to accomplish it, or wherewith to fight against a lustful brute to the very death. hodges spoke approval. "ye're gittin' sense. better save yer breath to cool yer porrich, stid o' wastin' hit a-whinin' to me. but i shore admire fer to hear ye squawk. ye hain't quite so damned uppitty as ye was yistiddy." "i 'low i must do what ye says," plutina agreed, listlessly. she felt very weary, now that the reaction was upon her. at whatever cost, she must have an interval in which to recover from this weakness. "thet's the ticket!" hodges exclaimed, with a jovialty meant to be winning. he went behind her, and loosened the knot he had last tied, so that her wrists, although still fast bound, had a little play. the length of the loop allowed him to move by her side with it over his arm. "you-all jest mosey acrost to thet-thar birch clump," he directed, pointing. "i got a rifle-gun yender, what i kain't noways do without." plutina walked obediently at his side in the direction indicated, and stood passively while he picked up the weapon. then, in response to his command, she set off with him through the tortuous forest paths to the southward. for the time being, plutina's dominant emotion was a vast depression. it bore down on her like a physical burden, under which she had hardly the power to go forward with slouching steps. it was as if the end of the world were come, with the loss of everything good and clean and happy. the only reality was this foul creature to whom she was bound, from whom there was no escape, who had but to speak and she must obey, who had the authority to compel obedience. she was sick with horror of the man's nearness. she felt defilement from the avid eyes, which moved over her in wanton lingering from head to foot, and back again. but she had no resource against him. she could only endure for the present, awaiting the return of strength. she could see no glimmer of hope anywhere. yet, she strove numbly against this enveloping despair. she told herself again and again that, somehow, relief would come before the dreaded crisis. the words were spiritless; they brought no conviction. nevertheless, she kept repeating them mutely to herself, as she trudged drearily beside hodges toward stone mountain. "i'll git clar o' him somehow--i will, i will! gran'pap'll kill 'im! zeke'll come! he will!" it was incredible that her lover could come, that he could even know of the evil, until too late to save her. yet, the thought of his coming subtly cheered her. it persisted in defiance of all reason. and the affrighted girl clung to it with desperate tenacity, as a drowning man to the life line. she kept repeating to herself, "zeke'll come! he will, he will!" as if the phrases were a spell for the soothing of terror. she wished that her hands were free to touch the fairy crystal in her bosom. the outlaw, after uncouth efforts at conversation, which met with no response, relapsed into sullen silence, and he mended the pace until the girl was hard put to it to keep up with his stride. on the first slopes of stone mountain, he halted, evidently at a spot where he had camped on other occasions, for presently he produced a skillet and coffee-pot and materials for a rude meal from their concealment in the bushes. but his first care was to place the prisoner on a log, where a sapling at her back served for attaching the loop of the leash. he then busied himself with making a fire and preparing the food, from time to time jeering at the helpless girl, who watched him with smouldering hate in her eyes. "hit's you-all orter be a-doin' these-hyar chores," he declared, with a grin. "an' they's a good time a-comin' when ye'll be plumb tickled to death to wait on yer danny boy. a good time comin', cuss ye!" he devoured his food ravenously, washing it down with the coffee. finally, he brought slices of bread and bacon to plutina, and laid them in her lap. he loosened her right hand and so permitted her to feed herself. it was her impulse to refuse the offering, but she resisted the folly, knowing the necessity of food, if she would have energy for the ordeal before her. so, she gulped down the bread and meat, and drank from the dipper full of coffee. then, her bonds were tightened again, and the two renewed their march. the going was harder here, up and down the rock-strewn slopes. fatigue lay very heavy on plutina, after the strains of the two days. only her hate of the man at her side bolstered up pride, so that she compelled herself to keep moving by sheer force of will. it was already dusk, when, at last, they issued from the wood and went forward over the shore of the pool at sandy creek falls. "wall, hyar we be!" hodges cried loudly. there was satisfaction in his voice. that satisfaction aroused plutina from the apathy into which she had fallen, during the last half-mile of difficult scrambling, made more toilsome by the constraint of her bound wrists. now, puzzlement provoked interest in her surroundings. she had expected that the outlaw would bear her away to the most convenient or the most inaccessible of the various secret retreats with which rumor credited him. but here was neither cave nor shack--only the level space of sand, the mist-wreathed pool, the rushing volume of the falls, the bleak wall of the cliff which towered above them where they had halted at its base. she knew this place. there could be no cavern at hand. her eyes searched the space of the inclosure wonderingly. then, they went to the man, whom she found regarding her bewilderment with a smirk of gratification. "hyar we be, right on the door-step, so to say," he bellowed. "if ye kain't see the door-step yit, ye will mighty quick, unless thet pore feller ye shot has gone an' died a-waitin' fer you-all to come an' nuss 'im.... yep, he was a-watchin', all right," he added briskly. "hyar hit comes!" plutina's eyes followed her captor's and, far above, she made out something that dangled from the slight break in the cliff. it descended slowly and jerkily, with haphazard gyrations. as its end drew closer, she perceived that it was a rudely constructed rope-ladder, with wooden rungs. she watched it fascinated, shivering with new fears. when the flimsy means of ascent hung at its full length, hodges bade the girl climb. unnerved as she already was, the ordeal of such a progress to the mysterious height above seemed too terrible. she refused mutely, shaking her head, and cowering away from the outlaw as far as the thong permitted. but the man had no pity for her timorousness. "you-all kin jest nacherly crawl up thet-thar ladder," he announced, "or we'll sling ye on the end of a rope, an' h'ist ye. thet'll tumble ye round an' bump ye agin the rocks quite some. but ye're the doctor. if ye'll climb up, i'll leave yer han's loose, an' foller cluss behind ye, so ye kain't fall. hit's shore wobbly, but hit's safe. dan hodges hain't aimin' to git his neck broke--ner to let the law break it fer him!" he added, in a lower tone to himself. but plutina caught the words. she made nothing of them at the time; afterward, she realized their significance, and thanked god for them. in the end, the prisoner yielded to necessity and ventured to mount with reluctant slowness. she found, to her intense relief, that the strength was returning to her body. she no longer felt the pervasive lassitude. the physical improvement reacted on her mind to restore confidence in her powers. she realized that probably the only danger lay in her own faltering, and she resolved to overcome her natural dread, to bend all her energies to a safe performance of the task. despite her hatred of the man, she found unspeakable comfort in the sight of his great hairy hands clutching the ropes on either side of her at the height of her waist. but, as she mounted, the space beneath grew fearsome to her, and she raised her eyes and held them steadily on the distance above, as she had learned to do in clambering with her lover. somehow, now, the thought of zeke heartened plutina. swinging dizzily in the abyss, with the arms of her jailer about her, there flowed into her soul a new courage. it was without reason, an absurdity, a folly, but, oh, what a solace to her spirit! under the stimulus of it, she ascended more rapidly. the pinched, ugly face of garry hawks, glowering down at her from the ledge, did not dismay her, even though the thought flashed on her brain that now this man whom she had wounded could hurl her to destruction by a touch. she had no fear of him; only pressed upward steadily. in another moment, her head passed above the level of the ledge. she took the hand garry hawks held out and climbed upon the narrow support, where she shrank back against the cliff, after one glance into the gulf yawning at her feet. the level space was a scant yard in width here, and lessened on the side away from the falls, until it ceased entirely. in the other direction, it ran, broadening a very little, to where a tiny cleft showed in the precipice. plutina guessed that this marked the entrance to a cavern. despite the bravery of her changed mood, the eerie retreat daunted her by its desolate isolation. then, hodges climbed upon the ledge, and she heard his shout, coming faintly to her ears above the roar of the cascade which fell just beyond the cavern's mouth. "welcome, home, honey!" he bawled, with his detested jocularity. "they hain't nobody a-goin' to butt in on our love-makin' up hyar." tittering and leering, he seized the girl by the arm, and led her, unresisting, to the cranny that was the door of the cave. a glance over her shoulder showed garry hawks on his knee, hauling up the ladder. she knew that with its disappearance there would remain nought by which the searchers could guess whither she had vanished, or how. once again, courage went out of her. in its place was despair. chapter xx the cave into which plutina now entered was a small, uneven chamber, some three yards in width at its highest point. it extended back for a little way, but the roof sloped downward so sharply that only in the central space could the girl stand upright, and even there hodges had to stoop. on the far side was a hole in the rocky wall. it was hardly a yard in height, but the faint glow that marked it was proof that it reached to the daylight outside. at the best, it could serve as a passage-way only to one creeping on hands and knees. so much plutina perceived in the first curious survey of her prison. the inspection was rendered possible by the murky light of a tallow candle, fixed in its own grease to a fragment of stone near the center of the cavern. as the outlaw released his hold on her arm, the girl sank down listlessly on a part of the wall that projected like a bench near the entrance. she leaned back against the cold stone, and her eyes closed. she felt a terrifying weakness, against which she battled with what strength she could summon. she dared not swoon, and so leave herself wholly helpless within the power of this man. she was white and trembling, but by force of will she held herself from falling, though her muscles seemed fluid as milk, and blackness whirled before her eyes. nevertheless, hodges was not minded to have a fainting woman on his hands. his prisoner's appearance alarmed him, and he hurried to a corner of the cave, whence he quickly returned with a cup half-full of whiskey. this he held to plutina's lips. she accepted the service, for she could not lift a hand, so great was her weakness. she swallowed a part of the draught, and the strong liquor warmed and strengthened her. she was so far restored soon as to understand hodges' closing sentence, for he had been mumbling at her. "ye hain't so damned skittish as ye was yistiddy," he jeered. plutina had no spirit to reply. she could only sit in abject lassitude, content to feel the glow of the stimulant creeping through her veins. for a time, her thoughts were stilled by the bodily torpor. she welcomed the respite, glad to rest from the horror of her plight. she heard the raucous voice of the outlaw booming in her ears, but she paid no heed. she saw garry hawks come into the cavern, waddling under the burden of the rope-ladder, which he carried clumsily by reason of the wound in his arm. she observed that the outlaw said something to his minion, putting his lips close to the fellow's ear, lest he be overheard. but she felt no curiosity as to the purport of this secret utterance, nor did she take interest when, immediately afterward, she beheld the wounded man get down on all fours and crawl out of sight through the hole in the opposite side of the cave. little by little, the prisoner's forces came back to her. of a sudden, she aroused with a start, as though she had been asleep, albeit without any consciousness of having slept. she felt a new alertness now through all her members, and her brain was clear. along with this well-being came again appreciation of the dreadfulness of her case. she grew rigid under the shock of dire realization, tensing her muscles, without volition, as if to repel attack. her eyes went fearfully to hodges, who sprawled at ease on a heap of spruce boughs across the cavern from her. the man was puffing lazily at a corncob pipe. the rank, acrid smell of the tobacco-smoke came to her nostrils, strangely home-like in this weird prison cell, aloft within the crags. she perceived, with infinite relief, that for the moment he appeared absorbed in his thoughts, disregardful of her presence. at least, she would have opportunity to fortify her spirit against the fear that beset her. she must ape bravery, even though she sickened with terror. thus only could she hope to daunt the creature that threatened her. she had only moral strength with which to resist him. physically, she would be as a child in his grasp, notwithstanding her quick, firm muscles. in a bodily contest, there could be but the single issue, her vanquishment. it would be hardly more than sport to him, the utmost of her frenzied strugglings. she saw the bloody marks of her fingers on his face, and remembered his stolid seeming of indifference to her fury. he had scorned her strength then. so, he would continue to scorn it--with reason, since it could by no means avail against him. no, she must have recourse to strength of will rather, to awe and intimidate him. she knew the folly of such means against the brutal desire of the man. but she clung to it as a meed of hope, because she had naught else to which to cling. without a hope, even the falsest, she must have gone mad. one thing seemed favoring for the time. the man was evidently sober. plutina wondered at that, for hodges was not often sober, and excess of liquor was an accustomed part in all his pleasures. his abstinence now puzzled her, but it relieved her, too, since it promised some postponement of his worst advances. thus encouraged, she set herself to review the situation in detail, in forlorn attempt to come on a way of escape. but a half-hour of effort left her distraught. she could devise nothing to suit her need. only one thought remained for tragical comfort in her wretchedness: in her last extremity, she might cast herself from the cliff. better a thousand times clean death than defilement.... plutina remembered her grandfather's regret over her having spared the outlaw. now, with her finger on the trigger, there would have been no faltering, only joy and thanksgiving. the defenseless girl watched furtively. when, at last, hodges stirred from his indolent sprawl, knocked the dottle from his pipe, and looked up at her, she shrank visibly. the blood rushed back to her heart in a flood, leaving her pallid, and she was trembling. even in the feeble light from the guttering candle, hodges could perceive her disturbance. it gratified him, and he laughed, in sinister glee over her emotion. "i 'low ye're gittin' some tame since yistiddy," he exclaimed. he got to his feet slowly, whereat plutina looked toward the entrance cleft, ready if the need came, to fly from him to the more merciful abyss. but hodges moved toward the back of the cave where he brought out a stone jug from its niche, and returned to the bed of boughs. seated again, he filled the tin cup full of spirits, and drank it down. with the pipe recharged and burning, he continued to sit in silence, regarding the girl with an unswerving intentness that tortured her. at short intervals, he replenished the cup and quaffed it thirstily. he was rapidly compensating for his earlier abstinence. plutina, studying him covertly, noted the beginnings of drunkenness and its various stages. there was gruesome fascination in her scrutiny; for she knew that her honor rested on the hazard of a sot's whim. suddenly, the girl knew that the peril was very close upon her. hodges was staring at her from his reddened eyes with a rampant lustfulness that was unmistakable. again, she measured the distances, to make sure that the last desperate means of escape from his embraces lay open still. she meant, in the final crisis, to spring to the crevice, before he could approach within reach of her. there, with the verge of the cliff only a step away, she would make her plea, with death in the gulf as the alternative of failure, the ultimate safeguard of honor. there could be no doubt concerning the imminence of the danger. the usually red face of the outlaw was mottled purple, congested by the stimuli of liquor and passion. the thick under-lip hung slackly, quivering from time to time in the convulsive tremors of desire that ran over him. a high light fell on the man's neck, where the open shirt left it bare. plutina's gaze was caught by the slight rise and fall of the flesh above the artery. the movement was made distinguishable across the cavern by the effects of light and shade. the girl found herself mechanically counting the throbs. the rapidity of them amazed her. they witnessed the fever raging in his blood--the fever that clamored for assuagement from her. the galloping pulse enthralled her with horror. it made visible the vile fires raging in him. so swift the rhythm grew that a hideous hope sprang up in the watcher--hope that an apoplexy might stretch the man dead at her feet. hodges reached for the jug, and poured from it into the cup, and drank. the girl perceived that, in the few seconds, his mood had changed utterly. the purple of his face was dingy with gray. he was trembling now. his eyes moved restlessly, as if fearful of something to issue from the darkness. not once did they rest on her. she remembered the racing pulse in his throat, and looked for it. to her astonishment, it was no longer to be seen, though the light fell on the place as before. she knew then that the fever had died, and she marveled mightily. but she recognized more, for she was unharmed still. the changed mood of her enemy promised immunity, for a time at least. yet once again, the outlaw drank. then, without a word to the prisoner, or so much as a look in her direction, he got down on his hands and knees, and crawled out of sight through the hole in the wall. for what seemed to her ages, plutina waited for his return, dreading a new, obscene mood. but the time dragged on, and there was no sign of his coming. the candle flared and smoked, went out. the girl huddled in the dark, listening now, for her eyes could not pierce the blackness. the roar of the waterfall filled her ears. the noise dismayed her, for it must inevitably cover all lesser sounds, even those close at hand. any evil might leap on her without warning, out of the darkness. she felt her helplessness multiplied, intolerable, thus blinded and deafened. she longed to shriek, pitting shrill clamor against the bass thunders of the cascade. she began to fear lest madness seize her if she remained longer thus supinely crouching amid the terrors of this place. obeying a sudden impulse, she got up, and gropingly, with shuffling, cautious steps, moved across the cavern. when she reached the opposite wall, she got down on hands and knees, and crawled until her searching fingers found the emptiness of the hole through which the men had passed. then, she drew back a little, and sat with alert ears, sure that none could issue into the cavern now without her knowledge. the relief afforded by the action soon waned. terrors crowded on her again in the second period of waiting. in desperation, she determined to explore the hole itself. she tried to examine the project carefully and found nothing to stay her purpose. joy leaped in her at the thought that a way of escape even might be ready to her hand. she believed it more likely, however, that the passage led merely to another chamber in the cliff. if such should be the case, and either or both of the men were sleeping there, she could probably ascertain the fact readily without being herself discovered, since here the sound of the falls was muffled. forthwith, she crept slowly within the opening. the progress was snail-like. the rough rock of the floor cut into her knees cruelly, but she disregarded the pain, and went forward. she tested each inch of the way by feeling over the stones with her hands, on either side and along the floor. the narrowness of the passage, which was hardly more than its height, rendered thorough examination easy. she found no lateral openings, nor did the space grow perceptibly larger. it suddenly occurred to her, after having advanced steadily, though very slowly, for five minutes, that she could not turn around. to return, she must back out. the idea appalled her, and she meditated retreat. then, while she was yet undecided, the hand groping in front of her touched on stone above the floor level. a short investigation proved that here the passage was barred. she could feel space between the edges of the tunnel and the mass of stone that closed it. since there was no other point of egress, both men must have passed through. afterward, the opening had been closed by rolling a heavy rock before it. she put her strength in pressure against the stone, without avail. it was too heavy for her muscles. she realized that by this simple means she was shut within her prison. it was almost with relief that she began to creep backward--to be astounded by the shortness of the way. it was scarcely a minute before she was in the chamber again. to guard against surprise in the darkness, she pushed the couch of boughs a little way along the wall, so that it projected across the mouth of the tunnel. this done, she seated herself on the branches, assured that no one could enter the cavern without giving her warning. even should she sleep, the thrusting away of the boughs from the orifice must surely awaken her. nevertheless, plutina did not expect the boon of sleep, though she longed for it with aching intensity. in spite of this temporary respite, she could see no way of escape from the outlaw's power, except by death. the vagaries of a drunken mood had saved her to-night: they could not save her for long. and, then, even while she mourned the hopelessness of her case, oblivion fell on her, and she slept the reposeful, dreamless slumber of utter exhaustion. a violent shaking of the bed of boughs startled the prisoner back to consciousness. for the fraction of a second, her mind was chaos. then remembrance came, and rending fear. but there was one comfort--day had dawned: she could see. there was no one with her in the chamber. the moving branches warned that the intruder was still in the tunnel. there was time for her to gain the crevice, where she could forbid any approach, where if her command failed, she could throw herself from the cliff. she darted across the width of the room, and stood in the cleft, strained back against the rock, her eyes staring affrightedly toward the opposite wall. all her woman's terrors were crashing upon her now. she felt death clawing at her over the brow of the ledge, fierce to drag her into the depths. one of the hands clutching at her bosom touched the fairy crystal, and she seized it despairingly, and clung to it, as if the secret spell of it might hold her back to life. abruptly, a broken cry of relief fluttered from her lips, for she saw the shock head of garry hawks thrust from the tunnel's mouth. toward him, she felt no fear, only contempt. in the reaction, she trembled so that she could hardly stand, and for a few moments her eyes closed. only the rock against which she leaned saved her from crumbling to the floor. the weakness passed very quickly, however, and she was again mistress of herself by the time hawks had scrambled to his feet. the fellow had little to say, answering surlily the questions put to him by plutina. he plainly cherished animosity against the girl who had wounded him, which was natural enough. as plainly, he did not dare vent his spite too openly against the object of his chief's fondness. he brought with him a bag containing bread and a liberal allowance of cooked slices of bacon, and a jug of water. his information was to the effect that hodges would not return until nightfall. he left in the fashion of his coming, by the tunnel. plutina immediately replaced the boughs, and, when she had eaten and drunk, again seated herself on the rough bed. from time to time, she went to the crevice, and stared out over the wild landscape longingly. but the height gave her a vertigo if she stepped forth upon the ledge. for that reason, she did not venture outside the crevice after a single attempt, which set her brain reeling. she remained instead well within the cleft, where she was unaffected by the height, while able to behold the vast reaches of sunlit space before her. the area about the foot of the precipice was, however, cut off from her vision. so it came about that, though she went twice to the crevice and looked out during the intervals while the marshal, first with his men and afterward with her grandfather, was searching about the pool, she knew nothing concerning the nearness of aid. she could not see the men, and the din of the falls covered their voices. occasionally, the girl lapsed into a quietude that was half-stupor and half-sleep, the while she reclined on the boughs. these were blessed periods of rest for the over-strained nerves, and she strove to prolong them--always in vain. for the most part, she hurried about with febrile, aimless movements. she found herself wondering often if to-day were to be the last of her life. she could see no other issue. the night would bring hodges, and the crisis of her fate. she could not hope for a second escape through a drunken vagary. there would be only the leap from the ledge to-night. as she stood in the crevice, and looked out on the smiling sylvan glory of the scene, as the soft summer breeze caressed her cheeks, and the balsamic air filled her bosom with its gently penetrant vigors, she realized as never before the miracle of life, its goodness and sweet savors. she cried out against the hideous thing that was come upon her. the every fiber of her being flamed in revolt against the idea of death. every atom of her clamored for life and love. and there were only shame and death for her choice. she took out the fairy crystal, and prayed to the sacred sign it bore, beholding it dimly though scalding tears. but faith flickered and went out. her soul sickened.... for her, there was nothing else--just shame and death. no--only death. plutina would have tried escape by the rope-ladder, but she found its weight too much for her strength, so sorely over-tried by racking emotions. even had she been able to carry the burden it would have availed nothing, for the dizziness attacked her whenever she drew near the verge. in her desperation, she even crept the length of the tunnel a second time, on the faint chance that the exit might now be less secure. she found the rock barrier immovable as before, though the rim of light showed that here was, in very truth, the way to freedom, and she pushed frantically at the obstacle until utterly exhausted. it was when evening drew down that, at last, there sounded the noise of a writhing body within the tunnel, and, from her point of refuge close to the crevice, she saw the outlaw crawl out of the passage, and stand before her like a demon of the darkness, leering at her fatuously. "you-all is shore makin' quite a visit," he remarked, with heavy sarcasm. "an' it kain't he'p ye none, dan," plutina retorted. "i hates ye, an' yer keepin' me hyar hain't goin' to do ye no good. if ye goes fer to lay a finger on me, i'll go over the cliff. i'm worse scairt o' yer touchin' me than i be o' the rocks down thar, dan." her voice was colorless, but an undertone of finality ran in it. the outlaw regarded her sharply from his inflamed eyes. it may be that her sincerity impressed him. yet, he betrayed no feeling as he answered, carelessly: "hain't no call fer ye to be so damned ornery. i hain't a-goin' to tech ye--yit. we'll be together quite a spell, i reckon--till i gits sick o' havin' ye round. if i wanted ye i could jump ye easy from hyar. i'm some spry, if i be big. but ye needn't be skeered, i'm tellin' ye. i hain't a-goin' to tech ye--yit." the final monosyllable was charged with sinister import, but the man's assurance of her present safety was, somehow, convincing, and she accepted it with the emotional gratitude of one sentenced to death who receives a reprieve. she sank down on the stone bench near the crevice, and watched her jailer with unwavering attention, while he produced a candle from his pocket, and lighted it, and had recourse again to the stone jug of whiskey, which had remained by the bed of boughs. to-night, the fiery drams made him garrulous, and he discussed his affairs, his hopes, and plans, with a freedom that showed how complete was his expectation of retaining the girl in his power. thus, plutina learned of the search being made for her, which was now the active cause in changing the outlaw's purpose in the immediate disposal of his prisoner. "i was aimin' to lay low with ye right hyar," he explained, after his fourth sup of the spirits. "but i reckon hit's a goin' to be a heap safer to skedaddle. i ain't a-wantin' no damned dawgs fer to chaw me up. so i'm goin' to mosey over bull head t'-morrer. you-all 'll go 'long, nice an' peaceable--er ye'll be drug." he spoke with a snarl now. "ye'll know hit, when i once git ye cross the state line--cuss ye! ye'll find i hain't so damned shy, arter all!" plutina cowered before the savage threat in the words. there was no mistaking the expression in the lustful eyes burning on her. his regard was in itself contamination. it was the prophecy of worse, of the final wickedness, to come. the afflicted girl thrilled with loathing before the satyr-like aspect of this man, foul of flesh and soul. but, along with abhorrence of the creature who held her in his keeping so ruthlessly, there was another emotion--that recurrent wonder concerning such delay in the base gratification craved by his passion. she could not doubt the fierce longing that seethed in his veins. it was like a visible thing flaming from him; and tangible, for she felt the impact of those brutal desires thronging against the white shield of her own purity, powerless to penetrate, yet nauseating her by the unclean impact. what, then, interposed to check him? what hidden force held him back from working his will against her? she could make no surmise. certainly, here was no physical restraint to stay him. as certainly, no moral reason would be of effect. the thing was altogether mysterious. so, she marveled mightily, and was curious to understand, even while she thanked god for the further respite. and now, too, hope began to burn again. surely, if she were to accompany him on the trails as he had said, there would come the opportunity for escape. he could not be on guard ceaselessly. vigilance must relax on occasion. it would not be then as here in this dreadful cavern, perched 'twixt earth and sky.... she broke off to listen, for the outlaw, having filled his pipe and drained a deep draught of the liquor, was become loquacious again. this time, thanks to the drink, he waxed confidential, intimate even. "i kin git away from hyar, an' no damned dawg kain't foller my tracks, nuther. er if he does, he'll drap inter the devil's kittle. but i knows my way 'bout in these-hyar mountings. an' ye needn't be afeared o' losin' me, honey. i'll hang onto ye good an' tight. when i git ye over the line, i'll have a parson, if ye want. i hain't a-keerin' one way, or t'other. but i got to have ye, willin' or not willin', parson or no parson. i'd hev ye t'-night if 'twan't fer jest one cussed thing. hit's a'mighty hard to hev yer blood a-b'ilin', till ye're like to bust jest 'cause of a slip of a gal, what ye could smash in yer two han's--an' her so high an' mighty!" the querulous voice ceased, while he had recourse again to the stone jug. when next he spoke, it was evident that his mood had changed. he was no longer harshly self-assertive, vainglorious, or brutally frank concerning the passion that consumed him. he was, instead, strangely reminiscent, with involuntary revelation of the weakness that preyed upon him. the girl was grateful for the change in him, but her bewilderment increased. "i seen a feller hung once," hodges said. his guttural, awed tones were hushed almost to a whisper. "they pulled a black cap down over 'is face, so's he couldn't see nothin' 'bout what he was up ag'inst. an' his han's was tied together behind 'is neck, with the knot up under his ear--'is left ear, i 'member hit was. i 'member partic'lar." the speaker's gaze had been downcast; not once had he looked at plutina. it was as if he had forgotten the girl's presence there with him, and communed aloud with his own gristly memories of the death-scene he had witnessed. his huge bulk seemed somehow shrunken--a physical shriveling in response to the craven fear in his soul. that gray, mottled purple of his face showed again. plutina wondered, if, indeed, this same memory had been in his thoughts the night before. but, if so, it only made the thing the more inexplicable. why should a hanging, long-past, thus haunt him? he was no nervous weakling, to be tortured by imaginary fears. yet, now, he displayed unmistakable signs of terror, in his voice, his eyes, his whole mien, in the shaking haste that spilled the half of the drink he poured out. "i seen 'im hung," he repeated, abjectly. "they let the trap drap from under his feet--an' 'im all tied, an' thet-thar black cap pulled down over 'is face to blind 'im. hit were plumb awful fer to see 'im drap. an' then the rope stopped 'im right in the air. hit were a drefful yank he got. they say, hit broke 'is neck, so's he didn't feel nothin' more. but i dunno. hit looked like he felt a heap, fer he kicked an' squirmed like hell. hit weren't purty fer to see. i've seen a big bull-frog what i've speared kick an' squirm jest like 'im. no, hit weren't purty. i'd shore hate fer to have my neck bruk thet-thar way. damn the law, anyhow! they hadn't orter treat no white man thet-thar way. hit must feel awful, a-standin' up thar, with thet-thar cap down over ye, shuttin' out everythin'--ferever; an' with thet-thar noose round yer neck, an' the knot a-ticklin' yer ear--yer left ear. i 'member specially. an' a-knowin' the noose is a-goin' to tighten, an' cut off yer breath--fer always. an' a-standin' on thet-thar trap, an' a-knowin' hit's goin' to drap--a-knowin' the bottom's a-goin' to drap right out o'--everythin'! i don't never want my neck bruk no sech way's thet. hit hain't right." plutina, staring wide-eyed, saw to her stupefaction that tears trickled from the eyes of the maudlin man; she heard him whimpering. once more, he poured himself a drink. he mumbled unintelligibly for a little. then, of a sudden, his voice rose in a last flare of energy, before he rolled on the boughs in sodden slumber. "damn the law in this-hyar state! hit hain't right, nohow. jest 'cause a feller loves a gal--to hang 'im! i hain't afeared o' nothin' else, s'fur's i knows, but i'd hate fer to have my neck bruk like his'n was. i hain't a-takin' no chancet o' thet. i'll wait till i'm over the line. but hit's hell to crave a woman!" raucous snores told the girl that the man slept, that again she had passed through the ordeal in safety. and now, at last, she knew the cause of her escape thus far. the mystery that had baffled her was a mystery no longer. out of the creature's own mouth had come the explanation. driven on by gusty passion as he was, a yet stronger emotion triumphed over lust. of imagination he had little, but he had seen a man hanged. his memory of that death had been her salvation, for such is the punishment meted to the violator of a woman in north carolina. in dan hodges, that master emotion, lust, had met a mightier--fear. because he was a coward, he had not ventured even the least caress, lest passion seize him and make him mad--forgetful of how that other man died so horribly. she had been spared because between him and her a scaffold loomed. chapter xxi the full-throated baying of a hound. men, far in the valleys below stone mountain, looked up, and listened, wondering. but those on the mountain heard and understood: dan hodges was being run to earth. the clew offered by the wet place on the cliff had sufficed for the three men who accompanied the stag-hound. they had marked the spot carefully in memory by its distance from a certain stunted pine growing above it and a rift in the precipice to one side. then they had ascended a furlong to the north, where the ascent was gradual and broken. when they had made sure that they were at the proper level, they searched for an approach to the desired ledge. the dog found the scent by the tunnel, but brant did not loose the animal. stone's eyes caught traces of where a bowlder had been moved. a little more searching revealed the opening covered by the stone, which they rolled aside. "but he's not there, now," brant declared, as he restrained the eager dog. "jack is wild to be off, and he wouldn't take a back track." uncle dick, eager to make sure, would have attempted the passage, but stone interposed. "i'll go," he declared. "it's my right--my prisoner, you know. anyhow, it'll be a snug-enough fit for me, and i'm smaller than you, uncle dick." the old man grudgingly admitted the fact, and made way for the marshal. in five minutes, stone was back. "nobody there," he announced. "then it's up to jack," brant exclaimed, and slipped the leash. the hound shot forward in full cry. the men hurried after at top speed. almost immediately, the dog vanished among the thickets. there came a clatter of sliding stones, as the big beast went galloping up the rise toward the crest of the mountain. the men followed as best they might, guided by the baying. uncle dick listened with bloodthirsty hopefulness for the crack of zeke's rifle, which he would recognize. the fugitive himself heard the hound's sonorous summons, and wasted breath in cursing. he cursed his potations over-night, which had led him to sleep beyond the sunrise. but for such drunken folly, he would have had the trailer hopelessly at fault. now, at best, it would be a close race--and there was the girl to hamper and hinder. she was running at his side, obedient to the pressure of his hands. he had replaced the cowhide thong, with her hands in front of her, and with play enough for free movement. so far, she had made no resistance to his commands. but the barking of the dog would warn her. if she should turn balky-what the outlaw feared, came to pass. the hoarse baying sounded to plutina's ears like sweetest music. the first note told her that friends were at hand for a rescue from the monster by her side. her heart leaped in the joy of it. a new courage surged in her--courage to defy this creature that held her in thrall. they were come already across the most of the plain of naked rock that is the top of the mountain. they had rushed without pause through the little grove of dwarf pines that grows near the devil's slide, above the cauldron. they were come, indeed, to the very edge of the slide itself before plutina acted. after all, it was not the new courage, but a newer fear, that forced her. she had one swift glimpse of the valley spread a thousand feet below, the giant trees like tiniest saplings, so far away--that dear, adorable valley, where were home and peace and love. but, between her and it, the precipice fell; between her and it, the devil's pot boiled; between her and it was this man, who drove her with curses. she looked away from the beloved valley into the loathsome face, and she saw the fear in his eyes--fear, and something else that terrified her. she realized suddenly that she was on the very verge of the slide, where none might venture and live. there, just beyond, was the darkened surface of the rock where the shallow stream went slithering down into the cauldron. an hysteria of fear gripped her, as he dragged her forward, out upon the sloping stone that dipped toward the abyss. she believed that he meant to hurl her from the height. thus, there would be left no evidence of his crime. his passion for her was nothing now--only his passion for life. "quick, damn ye!" hodges rasped. "i know the way in the dark. ye needn't be skeered none with me." he meant it; but the girl did not believe. she thought it a ruse to get her closer to the edge. she shrieked in despair, and sprang away from him. his clutch on the thong checked her. he jerked her back to him, hardly pausing in his stride. she struck at his face furiously, but he dragged her on toward the brink, mouthing at her with foul oaths. she fell to her knees, and hung, screaming, a dead weight. the baying of the hound sounded closer. hodges threw a glance over his shoulder, and saw the dog charging from the grove. he would have fired, but the girl was in the way. with a final blasphemy, he dropped his rifle, and struck at her--full in the face. she sank down limply, unconscious. her body slid away slowly, yet with a quickening movement, toward the gulf. hodges gave not even a look to his victim. he heard the challenge of the hound, now fairly upon him. there was no time to shoot. he used cunning instead. a mighty jump carried him over the moist surface where the stream flowed. he alighted on the dry rock. his bare feet clutched and held on the sloping surface.... no instinct warned the hound. its leap brought it down in the wet run-way. its feet shot from under. the force of its rush finished the work. the outlaw turned just in time to see the hound disappear over the cliff. before he had time for exultation over this victory, before he could look to see how fared the girl whom he had struck down so ruthlessly, before he guessed the new peril, another enemy was upon him. zeke, too, had heard the baying of the hound. trembling with eagerness, where he lurked behind a screen of bushes at the south of the grove, he knew that the dog was hot on the trail. he went racing toward the sound, with the bull-terrier at his heels. he had just entered among the trees, when he saw the hound careen past him. he followed, and, as he issued into the open, saw the man and the girl struggling on the edge of the precipice. he sickened at the spectacle, but there was no faltering. with every atom of energy in speed, he darted down the slope. he saw the blow that crumpled plutina to the rock. he saw it through a veil of red. what he did not see was the low, stealthy, yet quickening, slide of her body toward the brim of the abyss. so, all unconscious of that peril to the one he loved, he sprang to attack his enemy. he saw the hound's fate, and understood the cause of it. he, in turn, cleared the treacherous wet surface by a mighty leap. that leap brought him full on the outlaw's back. the two men went down together. the crash of hodges' head on the rock had well been enough to crack an ordinary skull. but his was strong, and the unkempt thatch of hair cushioned it, so that he got no serious hurt. a little dazed by the blow, and by the unexpectedness of the onslaught--nothing more. and he had the bravery of triumphant physical strength. in the instant of attack, he fought back viciously, with blind thrust and clutch. a long, powerful arm writhed around zeke like a band of steel, and held the assailant immovable. lying there on his back, the outlaw looked up into zeke's face, and recognized it, and cursed this unexpected foe obscenely. zeke wasted no energy in words. he was mad with rage against the man he hated. his one desire was to kill. he twined his fingers in the tangled hair, and beat the head upon the stone floor again and again. but the leverage of his arms was cut down too much. he could not even stun the outlaw, much less kill. he could not reach his rifle, which he had dropped when he sprang to the attack. he could not draw his revolver by reason of the encircling arms. he could only hammer his enemy's head on the rock, with a cruel lust for slaughter that availed nothing except to madden him by its futility. his strength, great though it was, was not enough against the man he fought. hodges proved the fact presently, for by a tremendous effort, he turned, and pinned zeke underneath. the force of the impact under the outlaw's heavy weight laid the lad unconscious. the fingers unclenched from his adversary's hair; he lay limp. hodges rose to his feet, with shambling haste. but, if he meant to kill, fate thwarted him. one foot was placed on the treacherous dampened rock. it slid from under him. he was thrown from his balance, and sprawled at length. he scrambled on all fours toward the other side of the run-way with desperate haste. he did not attempt to rise. a moment later, he slipped slowly over the brow of the cliff. seth jones, just issuing from the grove, saw the vanishing of the outlaw, but, at the distance, he could not distinguish the man's identity or that of the other, lying motionless on the sloping rock. for the instant, however, he gave no heed to either for sheer horror of something else he saw--the unconscious girl, moving so inexorably to her doom. he shouted in despair, as he raced toward her. but he knew he must be too late. he was powerless to stay her fall--as was the bull-terrier, which had seized her skirt and still clung, only to be dragged down with her into the void. before he was come to the beginning of the slide, girl and dog had traversed it--had shot out into the emptiness of space. chapter xxii the veteran gazed down at the sloping expanse of stone that curved to the sheer drop of the precipice. he was absolutely helpless in the face of the catastrophe he had witnessed. a man, a girl and a dog had gone to their death in this frightful place within the minute. already, the corpses were stewing in the devil's pot half-a-thousand feet below, he reflected grimly. there was nothing to be done for them now, or ever. he felt a whirl of nausea within him, but fought back the weakness. he shuddered, as he thought of the man behind him, lying senseless on the edge of the slide. was it hodges whom he had seen plunge into the depths, or was it--zeke? it was with fearful apprehension that he turned at last to learn as to which remained. a little cry of relief escaped him, for at a glance he recognized zeke. he sprang forward, and, in a moment, had assured himself that the young man was not dead, was not even seriously wounded. he guessed that a fall on the rocks had merely stunned. as best he could with one hand, he got out his pocket-flask, and finally managed to force a little of the liquor between the clenched teeth. presently, it took effect. the color came back into zeke's face, and he stirred, and groaned. then he sat up, resting against the veteran's arm. before there was time for any interchange of words between the two, a shout aroused them to look toward the grove. they saw the marshal dashing down the slope. close behind him ran cyclone brant. uncle dick lagged a little, the burden of years pressing too heavily at last. the three came swiftly and gathered about the two on the edge of the slide. dismay was writ large on their faces. the silence of the hound, zeke stricken and alone with the veteran, aroused their suspicion of disaster. "where's jack?" brant demanded. his heart was in the question. the fate of the others was of less concern to him than that of the animal he loved. zeke answered, strongly enough, for now energy was flowing back into him. "the hound went over," he said, regretfully. "i saw him. he slipped an' fell, an' was gone like a flash." brant turned away to hide his distress. but in zeke recollection welled. he clutched at the marshal, and drew himself to his feet, where, after an instant, he stood firmly. his eyes went searchingly over the barren surface of the slide. they dilated. fright lined his face--then, horror. he stared wildly, his gaze roving over all the mountain-top, once and again--and again. when words came, they were broken, surcharged with the horrid fear that was on him. "whar--whar is she--tiny?" his look went to the four men in turn, piteously pleading. each of the three met the look and answered it by a shake of the head. but the veteran could not endure the anguish in the lover's eyes. his own dropped. he did not shake his head. zeke strove for courage. "whar is she?" he demanded, at length. his voice was more composed now, but his eyes were flaming. the veteran answered very softly, but without any attempt at evasion. "i saw her go, zeke--over the cliff. thet little dawg o' your'n had a holt on her skirt. but he hadn't the heft to keep her from goin'. the dawg did the best he knew how. but 'twa'n't no use, an' he went, too. i was too fur off to grab her. i reckon she fainted. she didn't scream, ner move none to save herself." there was a little period of silence. these men were schooled to the concealment of deepest emotions. there was no frantic outburst from the bereaved lover, from the afflicted grandfather. there was not even comment or further questioning. of what avail? the thing was done. the girl was lost forever, dead. but the other men looked away, lest they see the agony in zeke's face. abruptly, the young man started walking down the slope. he wore shoes, and they slipped a little on the smooth stone. straight down toward the brink he strode. the curve of the dome made every step more perilous. it was a natural, an irresistible impulse to look on the precise place where the loved one had perished, but it appeared as if he walked to his death. indeed, his danger was grave, for he had forgotten the shoes he wore.... or, perhaps, he did not care! uncle dick uttered an oath, and leaped in pursuit. it was only a matter of seconds to overtake the young man, seize him, turn him about and march him back with fierce expostulations that were a welcome vent to emotion. zeke obeyed readily, aware of his momentary folly. then, as he rejoined the group, hate flared again. memory of the fight was confused by the blow on his head. he questioned seth jones harshly, with a single word: "hodges?" the veteran permitted himself a faint smile. the cruelty of the soldier, accustomed to violent deaths, was in it. there was, too, a curious smugness, a secret complacency. "i 'low yer wits are some shook up yit, bein' as how ye disremember," he remarked easily. "ye trun hodges over the cliff, zeke, jest as ye went down. hit were nip an' tuck atween ye, an' ye bested 'im." the kindly veteran believed the lie would be a life-long source of satisfaction to the lad, who had been so fearfully despoiled. now, his belief was justified by the fierce pleasure that showed for a moment in zeke's pain-drawn face. "i kain't seem to remember," he said, perplexedly. "but i'm shore glad i killed him." then, again, silence fell. there could be no triumph really over the death of hodges, because it had involved the destruction of plutina as well. the five men stood about awkwardly. the solemnity of death lay like a pall over them. in the stress of suffering, zeke had moved on from youth to the full stature of manhood. uncle dick had added a score of years to his apparent age. brant grieved much, if less seriously. only the veteran and the marshal had escaped personal loss, though they, too, mourned deeply. none ventured to suggest leaving the doomed spot. it seemed as if a sinister spell held them there, vaguely expectant, though wistful to flee. rather, perhaps, it was their sadness that made seem sinister a spell actually benignant. for, of a sudden, while they still stood mute, brant raised a hand to command attention, and pointed toward the verge of the precipice. "hark!" he commanded. they listened intently. then, all heard a faint, tremulous, whimpering note, long drawn-out, querulously appealing. zeke started and stared in the direction of the sound with an incredulous frown. brant shook his head sorrowfully: it was not the voice of jack. the others were merely bewildered by this unexpected development. the whining continued, grew louder. came a plaintive yelp. out of the abyss was thrust a clinging paw, another. the squat face of the bull-terrier peered at them from over the top of the cliff. next instant, the dog had scrambled safely on the slide. it raced to zeke with shrill cries of delight, leaped high to its master's breast, where it was caught and held closely. the slavering tongue lavished caresses. zeke felt a warm glow of comfort in the creature's return. yet, it did but render more frightful the loss of that being so infinitely more precious. he hardly heard uncle dick speaking. "hit's dum curi's," the old man said, lowering on seth jones. "i thought as how ye said the pup was a-hangin' on to tiny's dress." "it was so," the veteran answered. "i 'low the dawg must 'a' let loose when hit got in the air." "hit's dum curi's," uncle dick repeated, and turned to regard the bull-terrier with bent brows. zeke himself put a term to the mystification that had gripped him as well as the others. he raised a hand to the dog's throat, to restrain the too eager demonstrations of affection. at the collar he felt something unaccustomed. he looked, idly enough, and saw that a leathern thong had been tied firmly in the ring. to the thong was attached a little leather bag. the things were strange to him, yet they moved him profoundly. he found himself trembling--why, he knew not. he fumbled at the draw-strings of the pouch, loosened them. he thrust a finger within the opening, and touched something smooth and hard. it seemed to him that he already knew what this thing must be. he turned the bag upside down over his hand. in his palm lay a small coffee-colored piece of stone. it bore in darker shade the clear tracery of a cross. zeke, looking down, saw the sacred symbol subtly effulgent, a holy promise of safety for her whom he loved. he lifted a radiant face to the others, who had crowded about with marveling exclamations. "hit's the fairy cross i give tiny," zeke cried. his voice was joyous now, though throbbing with anxiety. "she hain't dead. she's kotched somehow thar on the rocks. she kain't climb up. so, she sent the cross by chubbie, to show she was alive. i'll go down fer her." the listening group readily understood the wonder that had befallen. whatever her present peril, whatever her injuries, plutina still lived. the blessed fact stirred them to joy and to orderly action. "ye kain't he'p tiny none by fallin' into the kittle yerself," uncle dick declared, with the voice of authority. "jest hold yer hosses, an' we'll he'p ye git 'er up safe an' sound. they's grape-vines 'nough in the grove. i suspicion she hain't so fer down. mebby we could hear 'er if the wind wa'n't blowin' to the no'th." they dared not take time for descent into the valley after rope. moreover, uncle dick was confident that his knots would hold securely the weight of a single person. with all speed, strands of vine were brought and spliced most carefully. in a surprisingly brief time, there were some seventy-five feet in readiness. more would be added, if this length should not suffice. when the rope was completed, an end was securely fastened about zeke's body with knots that would neither tighten nor slip. the young man had removed shoes and stockings, and now walked boldly down the sloping surface toward the brink. behind him went uncle dick, who was to advance as far as his foothold should be secure. on the level above the slide, the three other men held the rope, ready to pay it out, or to haul it in. uncle dick's duty was to save it, so far as might be, from being frayed on the rocks. it was to be let out to its full length, or until the lightened weight showed that zeke had found support. it was to be pulled in, in the latter case, after three tugs on it by him. zeke went boldly, it is true, but now, since he had appreciated uncle dick's warning, he went with painstaking carefulness as well. he realized that on his care might now depend the life of the girl he loved. so, he moved downward with increasing slowness, as the curve of the rock grew more pronounced. at each step, he made sure that his feet still clung. then, when still two yards from the edge, he found the footing too precarious for further walking, even with the rope. a glance over his shoulder showed that uncle dick had halted a rod above. he looked closely and saw that the brim of the cliff was smooth a little to the right. to save the rope as much as possible, he moved in this direction, uncle dick above making the like change. then, he seated himself on the rock and, while the men above paid out the vine, he went gently sliding downward toward the abyss. presently, his feet reached the brow of the cliff, passed beyond it, hung in space. the men watching from above, let the rope slide still more slowly. now his middle was at the brink. he held to the rope with his right hand. with his left he fended himself from the cliff. he looked down. for an instant, accustomed though he was to the high places among the mountain crags, his senses reeled before the impression of unsubstantial vastness. out beyond him was nothingness for what seemed endless distance. straight below was the sheer wall of the precipice, with hardly a rift for five hundred feet. there a ledge showed dimly. then, again, a half-thousand feet of vertical rocks to the valley. but the vertigo passed in that single instant. his vision cleared. and he saw her. he heard her, too, in the same moment. here, the cliff was not quite perpendicular. she had slid, rather than fallen, to a resting place. she was not seriously injured. it was hardly a score of feet from the top of the cliff to the tiny shelf of rock on which she lay. this was less than a yard in width. a bit of pine shrub jutted from it courageously, held by its roots burrowing in secret fissures of the rock. a log, rolled down by some amusement-seeker on the crest, had lodged on the outer edge of the shelf. the miniature pine held one end of it; the other was wedged in a crack of the precipice. the log lay like a paling to the narrow shelf. within that meager shelter, plutina crouched. beyond her the ledge narrowed, and ascended to where the cliff was broken. thus the dog had mounted. the girl's face was uplifted, pallid, with burning eyes fast on the lover who descended to her. her expression showed rapture, but no surprise that this rescuer should be her beloved. the fairy crystal was competent to work any wonder. zeke, spinning slowly with the twisting vine, thus swinging in the void between heaven and earth, felt, nevertheless, the thrill of passionate adoration. she was even more beautiful than he remembered her. the shelf, though narrowing, ran toward him. soon, his feet touched it. at the relief from his weight, the rope was no longer paid out, though held taut. with its aid he traversed the ledge, and reached the shelf where the girl knelt. he knelt beside her, and, without a word, their lips met and clung. there, amid the perils of the precipice, they were in heaven. for that matter, little speech passed between them afterward. they needed none. zeke adjusted the rope about her, kissed her, and gave the signal to haul away. with his heart in his eyes, he watched the swaying form rise, and was inexpressibly relieved when he saw her clear the brim safely. there was a short interval. then the rope came dangling down, and drew him back to safety. again the lovers were in each other's arms. the terror and the agony were forgotten. the bliss remained. chapter xxiii. marshal stone and brant were to return together to north wilkesboro' where the latter would take the train for home. uncle dick had offered them horses for the ride. the two men, somewhat in advance of the remainder of the party after the descent of stone mountain, had come near the higgins' cabin, when the marshal spoke with a display of embarrassment: "i've got to go a little out of our way. it's a chore i oughtn't ever to have put off for a minute, but i plumb forgot it." "what is it?" brant asked indifferently. but his interest was aroused as the marshal hesitated before answering, and exhibited an increasing confusion. "i'm right ashamed to tell of it," stone said, finally. "there's no excuse for such carelessness. plutina got into all this mess because she was afraid something dreadful might happen, and it might have--on account of my forgetfulness." "what's it all about?" brant demanded, now distinctly curious. "it's bear-traps!" was the morose answer. "bear-traps?" the marshal nodded. "those infernal traps hodges set along thunder branch--that made plutina turn informer.... well, i just naturally forgot all about 'em." brant uttered an ejaculation of dismay. "you mean, they're still there, and set?" stone nodded. "just that. i took hodges and york down another way. i've never thought of the traps since, till to-day." "risky, of course," brant admitted. "but nobody got caught, or they'd have been missed," he added comfortingly. "nobody in the neighborhood's disappeared, has there?" "not that i've heard of," stone replied. "but it's luck, not my deserts, if no harm's been done." "i'll go along with you," brant offered. "we'll have that trouble off your mind in a jiffy." so, the two men turned, and took the trail past the higgins' clearing and on until they came to thunder branch, where plutina had made her discovery. they followed the course of the stream upward, the marshal in the lead. as he came to the bend, where the rocky cliffs began, stone turned and called over his shoulder: "they're just beyond." then, he went forward, with quick, nervous strides, and disappeared beyond the bend. a moment later, a great cry brought brant running. it was, in truth, a ghastly scene that showed there, lighted brilliantly by the noontide sun. in the midst of the little space of dry ground bordering the stream, where the lush grass grew thick and high, the body of a man was lying. it was contorted grotesquely, sprawling at length on its face, in absolute stillness--the stillness of death. brant, himself horrified, looked pityingly at the white, stricken face of the marshal, and turned away, helplessly. he could find no words to lessen the hideousness of this discovery for the man through whose fault the tragedy had come. then, presently, as stone seemed paralyzed by the disaster, brant went closer to examine the gruesome thing. the victim had been caught by both traps. evidently, he had stepped fairly into the first. then, as the great jaws snapped shut on his leg, he had lurched forward and fallen. his arms were outspread wide. but his head was within the second trap. the jaws of it had clamped on the neck. the steel fangs were sunk deep into the flesh. blood from the wounds was caked black on the skin. "he didn't suffer any to speak of," brant remarked, at last. he observed, with some surprise, that his voice was very thin. he was not a squeamish man, and he had seen many evil sights. but this-with repugnance, he set himself to the task of releasing the trap that held the dead man's head. he had the delicacy not to call on his distressed companion for aid. the task was very difficult, and very gruesome, for it required harsh handling of the head, which was in the way. finally, however, the thing was accomplished. the savage jaws were freed from the flesh they had mangled, and were locked open. then, brant turned the body over, and gazed curiously, with strong repulsion, into the ugly, distorted dead face. "providence picked out somebody who could be spared," he mused grimly. there came another cry from stone. in it were wonder, incredulity, relief. brant regarded the marshal in amazement. the man was transformed. the motionless figure of desolation was become one of wild, quivering excitement. the face was suffused with blood, the eyes shining fiercely. "what the devil!" brant demanded, aghast. stone looked toward his questioner gravely, and nodded with great emphasis. his voice was low, tense with emotion. "it is the devil!" he answered solemnly. he paused, clearing his throat, and stared again at the dead man. then, his eyes went back to brant, as he added: "it's hodges." there was a little silence. brant could not understand, could not believe this startling assertion flung in his face. "but hodges was thrown over the precipice," he said, at last. the marshal shook his head. there was defiance now in his aspect--defiance, and a mighty joy. "it doesn't make any difference about that," he announced. "this is hodges!" then, his exultation burst in words: "hodges caught in his own traps! his neck broken, as it should have been broken by the rope for the murders he's done! it was my carelessness did it, yes. but i don't care now, so long as it's hodges who's got caught. hodges set those traps, and--there he is!... i read about something like that once in a story. they called it 'poetic justice.'" "he don't look like a poem," brant remarked. he turned from the gory corpse with a shudder of disgust. "thank god, it was hodges!" the marshal said, reverently. "anybody else would have haunted me for life. but hodges! why, i'm glad!" * * * * * the affair was easily explicable in the light of what plutina had to tell. hodges, undoubtedly, had knowledge of some secret, hazardous path down the face of the precipice past the devil's cauldron, and on to the valley. he had meant to flee by it with plutina, thus to escape the hound. by it, he had fled alone. perhaps, he had had a hiding-place for money somewhere about the raided still. or, perhaps, he had merely chosen this route along thunder branch on his way to an asylum beyond bull head mountain. what was certain was that he had blundered into his own pitiless snares. naturally, he would have had no suspicion that the traps remained. in his mad haste, he had rushed heedlessly upon destruction. the remorseless engines of his own devising had taken full toll of him. by his own act, he paid with his life the penalty for crime. there was propriety in the marshal's reference to poetic justice. a certain vindictiveness showed in plutina's comment concerning the death of the man at whose hands she had so suffered. [illustration: _clara kimball young under the direction of lewis j. selznick._ the coming of peace.] "his bein' so afeared o' thet-thar thing kep' 'im from hurtin' me," she said, reflectively. "he was shorely sot ag'inst havin' 'is neck bruk, an', arter all, thet's jest what he got." she smiled, contentedly. for plutina was a primitive woman, strong in her love, and strong in her hate. * * * * * it was a day of early autumn. the timber rights had been secured to the satisfaction of sutton. the tree-nail factory was being built. zeke was become a man of importance in the region. the lover's wedding-day was less than a month distant. to-day, plutina had been for a visit to the widow higgins, and now zeke was walking home with her. they paused at the place where had been their meeting on the morning of the lad's first adventuring into the world. memories flooded them, as they looked across the valley to the bleak cliffs of stone mountain, which rose in aged, rugged grandeur, softened in this hour by the veils of haze, warmed with the lambent hues of sunset. in answer to plutina, zeke shook his head perplexedly. "i kain't quite stomach thet-thar yarn o' seth jones's," he said. "as i remember, dan hodges threw me--hard!" he grinned wryly at the recollection. "i don't see how i could have thrown him off the slide." "but of course you did!" plutina asserted, with great spirit. "pooh! ye could lick dan hodges any day in the week. an' seth saw ye--that settles hit!" "i suppose so," zeke conceded. "but dan hodges was a powerful fighter. after all, i didn't do anything much for ye, tiny," he added, with regret in his voice. the girl was all indignation. "why, zeke!" she cried. "the idea! ye did hit all. ye banged the love o' ye into thet-thar dawg, what hung on to me an' brung up the fairy cross fer a message." chubbie, as if understanding, leaped to lick her hand. "an' ye give me the cross, zeke. mebby, thet's what saved me, all the time--thar on the precipice, an'--an' back thar--in the cave--with him. an' then ye threw dan hodges right offen the mounting. seth jones seen ye do hit!" it seemed to zeke that he must perforce accept the heroism thrust upon him, though a doubt still lingered. still, his memory of the fight was confused. perhaps, after all, he had--. zeke broke off, and drew the girl close. their lips met gently, tenderly, with the clinging of passion. what mattered the history of evil days? they were past. before them lay the future, radiant with rosy promise. in this blessed present, they were together. love thrilled exquisitely on their lips; more exquisitely in their souls. that love was, and it would remain, a noble and precious thing, great and very beautiful, as mighty and firm as the mountain looming yonder in immutable serenity and strength, as loyal, as enduring.... they walked on together, infinitely content. underwood typewriter _points of merit:_ award grand prize, highest honor panama-pacific international exposition holder international speed and accuracy typewriter trophy for ten years elliott-cresson medal for mechanical supremacy endorsed by world's champions and all great typists "the machine you will eventually buy" john fox, jr's. stories of the kentucky mountains may be had wherever books are sold. ask for grosset and dunlap's list. [illustration] trail of the lonesome pine. illustrated by f. c. yohn. the "lonesome pine" from which the story takes its name was a tall tree that stood in solitary splendor on a mountain top. the fame of the pine lured a young engineer through kentucky to catch the trail, and when he finally climbed to its shelter he found not only the pine but the _footprints of a girl_. and the girl proved to be lovely, piquant, and the trail of these girlish foot-prints led the young engineer a madder chase than "the trail of the lonesome pine." the little shepherd of kingdom come illustrated by f. c. yohn. this is a story of kentucky, in a settlement known as "kingdom come." it is a life rude, semi-barbarous; but natural and honest, from which often springs the flower of civilization. "chad," the "little shepherd" did not know who he was nor whence he came--he had just wandered from door to door since early childhood, seeking shelter with kindly mountaineers who gladly fathered and mothered this waif about whom there was such a mystery--a charming waif, by the way, who could play the banjo better that anyone else in the mountains. a knight of the cumberland. illustrated by f. c. yohn. the scenes are laid along the waters of the cumberland, the lair of moonshiner and feudsman. the knight is a moonshiner's son, and the heroine a beautiful girl perversely christened "the blight." two impetuous young southerners fall under the spell of "the blight's" charms and she learns what a large part jealousy and pistols have in the love making of the mountaineers. included in this volume is "hell fer-sartain" and other stories, some of mr. fox's most entertaining cumberland valley narratives. ask for complete free list of g. & d. popular copyrighted fiction grosset & dunlap, 526 west 26th st., new york stories of western life may be had wherever books are sold. ask for grosset & dunlap's list. riders of the purple sage, by zane grey. illustrated by douglas duer. in this picturesque romance of utah of some forty years ago, we are permitted to see the unscrupulous methods employed by the invisible hand of the mormon church to break the will of those refusing to conform to its rule. friar tuck, by robert alexander wason. illustrated by stanley l. wood. happy hawkins tells us, in his humorous way, how friar tuck lived among the cowboys, how he adjusted their quarrels and love affairs and how he fought with them and for them when occasion required. the sky pilot, by ralph connor. illustrated by louis rhead. there is no novel, dealing with the rough existence of cowboys, so charming in the telling, abounding as it does with the freshest and the truest pathos. the emigrant trail, by geraldine bonner. colored frontispiece by john rae. the book relates the adventures of a party on its overland pilgrimage, and the birth and growth of the absorbing love of two strong men for a charming heroine. the boss of wind river, by a. m. chisholm. illustrated by frank tenney johnson. this is a strong, virile novel with the lumber industry for its central theme and a love story full of interest as a sort of subplot. a prairie courtship, by harold bindloss. a story of canadian prairies in which the hero is stirred, through the influence of his love for a woman, to settle down to the heroic business of pioneer farming. joyce of the north woods, by harriet t. comstock. illustrated by john cassel. a story of the deep woods that shows the power of love at work among its primitive dwellers. it is a tensely moving study of the human heart and its aspirations that unfolds itself through thrilling situations and dramatic developments. ask for a complete free list of g. & d. popular copyrighted fiction grosset & dunlap, 526 west 26th st., new york b. m. bower's novels thrilling western romances large 12 mos. handsomely bound in cloth. illustrated. chip, of the flying u a breezy wholesome tale, wherein the love affairs of chip and delia whitman are charmingly and humorously told. chip's jealousy of dr. cecil grantham, who turns out to be a big, blue eyed young woman is very amusing. a clever, realistic story of the american cow-puncher. the happy family a lively and amusing story, dealing with the adventures of eighteen jovial, big hearted montana cowboys. foremost amongst them, we find ananias green, known as andy, whose imaginative powers cause many lively and exciting adventures. her prairie knight a realistic story of the plains, describing a gay party of easterners who exchange a cottage at newport for the rough homeliness of a montana ranch-house. the merry-hearted cowboys, the fascinating beatrice, and the effusive sir redmond, become living, breathing personalities. the range dwellers here are everyday, genuine cowboys, just as they really exist. spirited action, a range feud between two families, and a romeo and juliet courtship make this a bright, jolly, entertaining story, without a dull page. the lure of dim trails a vivid portrayal of the experience of an eastern author, among the cowboys of the west, in search of "local color" for a new novel. "bud" thurston learns many a lesson while following "the lure of the dim trails" but the hardest, and probably the most welcome, is that of love. the lonesome trail "weary" davidson leaves the ranch for portland, where conventional city life palls on him. a little branch of sage brush, pungent with the atmosphere of the prairie, and the recollection of a pair of large brown eyes soon compel his return. a wholesome love story the long shadow a vigorous western story, sparkling with the free, outdoor, life of a mountain ranch. its scenes shift rapidly and its actors play the game of life fearlessly and like men. it is a fine love story from start to finish. ask for a complete free list of g. & d. popular copyrighted fiction. grosset & dunlap, 526 west 26th st., new york 