boy scouts on a long hike or to the rescue in the black water swamps by archibald lee fletcher chicago m. a. donohue & company -----------------------------------------------------------------------copyright 1913 m. a. donohue & co. chicago -----------------------------------------------------------------------contents chapter page i--the boys of the beaver patrol 7 ii--helping noodles 16 iii--the gentle cow 26 iv--in alabama camp 35 v--a helping hand 44 vi--the home-coming of jo davies 53 vii--innocent or guilty? 62 viii--"well, of all things!" 71 ix--the runaway balloon 81 x--duty above all things 90 xi--the trail in the swamp 99 xii--where no foot has ever trod 108 xiii--the oasis in the swamp 117 xiv--just in the nick of time 126 xv--on the home-stretch 135 xvi--"well done, beaver patrol!" 146 -----------------------------------------------------------------------boy scouts on a long hike or, to the rescue in the black water swamps chapter i the boys of the beaver patrol "they all think, fellows, that the beaver patrol can't do it!" "we'll show 'em how we've climbed up out of the tenderfoot class; hey, boys?" "just watch our smoke, that's all. why, it's only a measly little twenty-five miles per day, and what d'ye think?" "sure seth, and what's that to a husky lot of boy scouts, who've been through the mill, and wear merit badges all around? huh! consider it as good as done right now!" half a dozen boys who wore khaki uniforms, were chattering like so many magpies as they stood in a little group on an elevation overlooking the bustling indiana town of beverly. apparently they must have been practicing some of the many clever things boy scouts delight to learn, for several of the number carried signal flags; two had pieces of a broken looking-glass in their possession; while the tall lad, seth carpenter, had a rather sadly stained blanket coiled soldier fashion about his person, that gave off a scent of smoke, proving that he must have used it in communicating with distant comrades, by means of the smoke code of signals. besides seth there were in the group jotham hale, eben newcomb, andy mullane, fritz hendricks, and a merry, red-faced boy who, because of his german extraction, went by the name of "noodles krafft." the reader who has not made the acquaintance of these wide-awake scouts in previous volumes of this series will naturally want to know something about them, and hence it might be wise to introduce the members of the beaver patrol right here. eben was the official bugler of beverly troop. he had been made to take this office much against his will, and for a long time had the greatest difficulty in getting the "hang" of his instrument, so that his comrades guyed him most unmercifully over the strange medleys he used to bring forth when meaning to sound the various "calls." but of late eben seemed to have mastered his silver-plated bugle, and was really doing very well, with an occasional lapse excepted. andy was a kentucky boy, but outside of a little extra touch of pride, and a very keen sense of his own honor, you would never know it. seth was the champion signal sender, and delighted to study up everything he could discover concerning this fascinating subject. fritz, on his part, chose to make an especial study of woodcraft, and was forever hunting for "signs," and talking of the amazing things which the old-time indians used to accomplish along this line. as for good-natured noodles, if he had any specialty at all, it lay in the art of cooking. when the boys were in camp they looked to him to supply all sorts of meals that fairly made their mouths water with eagerness to begin operations long before the bugle of eben sounded the "assembly." last of all the group, was jotham hale, a rather quiet boy, with an engaging face, and clear eyes. jotham's mother was a quaker, or at least she came from the peace-loving friends stock; and the lad had been early taught that he must never engage in fights except as a very last resort, and then to save some smaller fellow from being bullied. on one occasion, which no one in beverly would ever forget, jotham had proven that deep down in his heart he possessed true courage, and grit. he had faced a big mad dog, with only a baseball bat in his hands, and wound up the beast's career right on the main street of the town, while everybody was fleeing in abject terror from contact with the animal. because in so doing jotham had really saved an old and nearly blind veteran soldier from being bitten by the terrible brute, he had been adjudged worthy to wear the beautiful silver merit badge which is sent occasionally from boy scout headquarters to those members of the organization who have saved life at great peril to themselves. but jotham was not the only one who proudly sported a badge. in fact, every one of the eight members of the beaver patrol wore a bronze medal on the left side of his khaki jacket. this had come to them because of certain services which the patrol had rendered at the time a child had been carried away by a crazy woman, and was found, later on, through the medium of their knowledge of woodcraft. of course there were two more boys connected with the patrol, who did not happen to be present at the time we find them resting on their way home after a rather strenuous afternoon in the open. these were paul prentice, the patrol leader, and who served as acting scout master when mr. alexander was unable to accompany them; and "babe" adams, the newest recruit, a tenderfoot who was bent on learning everything connected with the game. they had gone home a little earlier than the rest, for reasons that had no connection with the afternoon's sport, each of them having a pressing engagement that could not be broken. "babe" had been nick-named in the spirit of contrariness that often marks the ways of boys; for he was an unusually tall, thin fellow; and so far as any one knew, had never shirked trouble, so that he could not be called timid in the least. "no use hurrying, fellows," declared seth, as he flung himself down on a log that happened to be lying near the edge of a little precipice, marking the abrupt end of the shelf which they had been following, so that to descend further the scouts must pass around, and pick their way down the hillside. "that's so," added jotham, following suit, and taking great care not to knock his precious bugle in the least when making the shift; "for one, i'm dead tired after such a hard afternoon. but all the same, i want you to know that i'm in apple-pie condition for that long hike, or will be, after a night's rest." "what d'ye suppose made mr. sargeant offer a prize if the beaver patrol could walk to warwick by one road, and back along another, a distance of just an even hundred miles, between sunrise of four days?" and fritz looked around at his five comrades as though inviting suggestions. "because he's fond of boys, i reckon," remarked andy. "they tell me he lost two splendid little fellows, one by drowning, and the other through being lost in the forest; and when he learned what sort of things the scouts practice, he said he was in favor of encouraging them to the limit." "well, we want to get busy, and show mr. sargeant that we're going to give him a run for his money," said seth. "we've all seen the cup in the window of the jewelers in town, and it sure is a beauty, and no mistake," added jotham. "don't anybody allow himself to think we can't cover that hundred miles inside the time limit. you know how paul keeps telling us that confidence is more'n half the battle," fritz went on to say. "you pet we want dot gup, undt we're yust bound to get der same," observed noodles, who could talk quite as well as any of his mates, but who liked to pretend every now and then, that he could only express himself in "broken english," partly because it pleased him and at the same time amused his mates. "we're right glad to hear you say that, noodles," declared seth, with a wink in the direction of the others; "because some of us have been afraid the hike might be too much for you, and eben." "now, there you go again, seth," complained the bugler, "always imagining that because i seldom blow my own horn----" but he got no further than this, for there broke out a shout, from the rest of the boys. "that's where you struck it right, eben!" cried seth, "because in the old days you seldom did blow your own horn; but i notice that you're improving right along now, and we have hopes of making a champion bugler out of you yet." "of course that was just a slip; but let it pass," remarked eben, grinning in spite of the fact that the joke was on him. "what i meant to say was that because i don't go around boasting about the great things i'm going to do, please look back on my record, and see if i haven't got there every time." "sure you have," admitted seth, "and we give you credit for bull-dog stubbornness, to beat the band. other fellows would have thrown the bugle into the bushes, and called quits; but you kept right along splitting our ears with all them awful sounds you called music. and say, if you can show the same kind of grit on this long hike we're going to try, there ain't any doubt but what we'll win out." "thank you, seth; you're a queer fish sometimes, but your heart's all right, underneath the trash," observed eben, sweetly; and when he talked like that he always put a stop to the other's teasing. "how about you, noodles; d'ye think you're good for such a tough walk?" asked fritz, turning suddenly on the red-faced, stout boy, who was moving uneasily about, as though restless. "meppy you don't know dot me, i haf peen practice on der quiet dis long time, so as to surbrize you all," came the proud reply. "feel dot muscle, seth, undt tell me if you think idt could pe peat. gymnastics i haf take, py shiminy, till all der while i dream of chinning mineself, hanging py one toe, undt all der rest. meppy you vill surbrised pe yet. holdt on, don't say nuttings, put wait!" he put on such a mysterious air that some of the boys laughed; but noodles only smiled broadly, nodded his head, and made a gesture with his hand that gave them to understand he was ready and willing to let time vindicate his reputation. "hadn't we better be moving on?" remarked andy. "yes, the sun's getting pretty low in the west, and that means it must be near supper time," said fritz, who was the possessor of a pretty brisk appetite all the time. "oh! what's the use of hurrying?" seth went on to say, shifting his position on the log, and acting as though quite content to remain an unlimited length of time. "it won't take us ten minutes to get there, once we start; fifteen at the most. and i like to walk in just when the stuff is being put on the table. it saves a heap of waiting, you know." "that's what it does," eben echoed. "because, if there's anything i hate to do, it's hanging around while they're finishing getting grub ready." "here, quit walking all over me, noodles!" called out fritz, who had coiled his rather long legs under him as well as he could, while squatting there on the ground. "i haf nodt der time to do all dot," remarked the german-american boy, calmly, "idt would pe too pig a chob. oh! excuse me off you blease, fritz; dot was an accident, i gif you my word." "well, don't stumble across me again, that's all," grumbled the other, watching noodles suspiciously, and ready to catch him at his tricks by suddenly thrusting out a foot, and tripping him up--for noodles was so fat and clumsy that when he took a "header" he always afforded more or less amusement for the crowd. it was not often that noodles displayed a desire to play tricks or joke, which fact made his present activity all the more remarkable; in fact he was developing a number of new traits that kept his chums guessing; and was far from being the dull-witted lad they had formerly looked upon as the butt of all manner of practical pranks. while the scouts continued to chat, and exchange laughing remarks upon a variety of subjects, noodles kept moving restlessly about. fritz felt pretty sure that the other was only waiting for a good chance to pretend to stumble over his legs again, and while he pretended to be entering heartily into the rattling fire of conversation, he was secretly keeping an eye on the stout scout. just as he anticipated, noodles, as though discovering his chance, lurched heavily toward him. fritz, boylike, instantly threw out a foot, intending to simply trip him up, and give the other a taste of his own medicine. well, noodles tripped handsomely, and went sprawling headlong in a ludicrous manner; but being so round and clumsy he rather overdid the matter; for instead of simply rolling there on the ground, he kept on scrambling, hands and legs shooting out every-which-way; and to the astonishment and dismay of his comrades, noodles vanished over the edge of the little precipice, close to which the scouts had made their temporary halt while on the way home! chapter ii helping noodles "oh! he fell over!" shouted eben, appalled by what had happened. "poor old noodles! what if he's gone and broke his neck?" gasped jotham, turning a reproachful look upon fritz. "i didn't mean to go as far as that, fellows, give you my word for it!" fritz in turn was muttering, for he had been dreadfully alarmed when he saw poor noodles vanish from view in such a hasty fashion. "listen!" cried andy. "hellup!" came a faint voice just then. "it's noodles!" exclaimed fritz, scrambling over in the direction of the spot where they had seen the last of their unfortunate chum. "oh! perhaps he's gone and fractured his leg, and our family doctor, meaning paul, ain't along!" groaned eben. all of them hastened to follow after the eager fritz, and on hands and knees made for the edge of the shelf of rock, from which in times past they had sent many a flag signal to some scout mounted on the roof of his house in town. fritz had more of an interest in discovering what had happened to the vanished scout than any of his comrades. possibly his uneasy conscience reproached him for having thrust out his foot in the way he did, and sending poor noodles headlong to his fate. at any rate he reached the brink of the descent before any of the rest. they unconsciously kept their eyes on fritz. he would serve as a barometer, and from his actions they could tell pretty well the conditions existing down below. if fritz exhibited any symptoms of horror, then it would afford them a chance to steel their nerves against the sight, before they reached his side. fritz was observed to crane his neck, and peer over the edge of the shelf. further he leaned, as though hardly able to believe his eyes. then, when some of the rest were holding their breath in expectation of seeing him turn a white face toward them, fritz gave vent to a hoarse laugh. it was as though the relief he felt just had to find a vent somehow. astounded by this unexpected outcome of the near-tragedy the others hastened to crawl forward still further, until they too were able to thrust out their heads, and see for themselves what it was fritz seemed to be amused at. then they, too, chuckled and shook with amusement; nor could they be blamed for giving way to this feeling, since the spectacle that met their gaze was comical enough to excite laughter on the part of any one. noodles was there all right; indeed, he was pretty much in evidence, as they could all see. in falling it happened that he had become caught by the seat of his stout khaki trousers; a friendly stump of a broken branch connected with a stunted tree that grew out of the face of the little precipice had taken a firm grip upon the loose cloth; and since the boy in struggling had turned around several times, there was no such thing as his becoming detached, unless the branch broke. "hellup! why don't you gif me a handt?" he was shouting as he clawed at the unyielding face of the rock, while vainly endeavoring to keep his head higher than his flying heels. while it was very funny to the boys who peered over the edge of the shelf, as noodles would have an ugly tumble should things give way, andy and seth quickly realized that they had better get busy without any more delay, and do the gallant rescue act. had paul been there he would have gone about it in a business-like way, for he was quick to grapple with a problem, and solve it in short order. as it was a case of too many cooks spoiling the broth, one boy suggested a certain plan, only to have a second advanced as a better method of getting noodles out of his unpleasant predicament. meantime the poor fellow was kicking, and turning, and pleading with them not to go back on an old chum, and leave him to such a terrible fate. "der rope--get quick der rope, undt pull me oop!" he wailed. "that's so, boys, noodles has struck the right nail on the head!" cried seth. "here, who's carrying that rope right now?" "noodles has got it himself, that's what!" exclaimed eben. "did you ever hear of such rotten luck, now?" demanded seth. "hold on!" interrupted andy, "seems to me i remember seeing him lay something down over here. let me look and find out. whoop! here she is, boys! that's what i call great luck. seth, suppose you see if you can drop the loop over his head." "pe sure as you don't shoke me, poys!" called out the dangling object below, in a manner to prove that he heard all they said. "get it over his feet, seth; then we can yank him up. he won't mind it for a short time. some of his brains will have a chance to run back into his head that way," suggested eben. "make quick, blease!" wailed the unhappy scout, who was growing dizzy with all this dangling and turning around. "i hears me der cloth gifing away; or else dot dree, it pe going to preak py der roots. hurry oop! get a moof on you, somepody. subbose i want to make some squash pie down on der rocks?" but seth was already hard at work trying to coax that noose at the end of the dangling rope to fall over the uptilted legs of the unfortunate scout. "keep still, you!" he shouted, when for the third time his angling operations were upset by some unexpected movement on the part of the struggling boy. "think i c'n lasso a bucking broncho? hold your feet up, and together, if you want me to get you! there, that's the way. whoop-la!" his last shout announced sudden success. indeed, the loop of the handy rope had dropped over the feet of noodles, and was speedily drawn tight by a quick movement on the part of the operator. the balance of the boys laid hold on the rope and every one felt that the tension was relieved--that is, every one but noodles, and when he found himself being drawn upward, with his head down, he probably thought things had tightened considerably. as the obliging branch saw fit to let go its tenacious grip about that time, of course noodles was soon drawn in triumph over the edge of the shale, protesting more or less because he was scratched in several places by sharp edges of the rock. "hurrah for scout tactics; they count every time!" exclaimed eben. fritz was unusually solicitous, and asked noodles several times whether he had received any serious hurt as a result of his strange experience. the german boy felt himself all over, grunting several times while so doing. but in the end he announced that he believed he was all there, and beyond a few minor bruises none the worse for his adventure. "put you pet me i haf a narrow escape," he added, seriously. "how far must i haf dropped if dot pully oldt khaki cloth gives vay?" "all of twenty feet, noodles," declared andy. "dwenty feets! ach, petter say dree dimes dot," asserted noodles. "i gives you my word, poys, dot it seemed i was on der top of a mountain, mit a fine chance my pones to preak on der rocks pelow. pelieve me, i am glad to pe here." "i hope you don't think i did that on purpose, noodles?" asked fritz, contritely. the other turned a quizzical look upon him. "tid for tad, fritz," he remarked, "iff i had nodt peen drying to choke mit you meepy i might nodt haf met with sooch a shock. petter luck nexdt time, hey?" "i don't know just what you mean, noodles, blest if i do," remarked fritz, with a puzzled look on his face, "but i agree with all you say. this practical joke business sometimes turns out different from what you expect. i'm sure done with it." but then, all boys say that, especially after they have had a little fright; only to go back to their old way of doing things when the shock has worn off. and the chances were that fritz was far from being cured of his habits. "how lucky we had the rope along," ventured jotham, who was coiling up the article in question at the time he spoke. "i always said it would come in handy," remarked eben, quickly and proudly, "and if you stop to think of the many uses we've put that same rope to, from yanking a fellow out of a quicksand, to tying up a bad man who had escaped from the penitentiary, you'll all agree with me that it's been one of the best investments we ever made." "that's right," echoed seth, always willing to give credit where such was due. "ketch me ever going into the woods without my rope," declared eben. "well, do we make that start for home and mother and supper right now; or are we going to stay here till she gets plumb dark?" asked fritz, impatiently, moving his feet out of the way every time anyone approached too closely, as though possessed by a fear lest he be tempted to repeat his recent act. "come on, everybody," said eben, making a start, "i refuse to hang out a minute longer. seems like i c'n just get a whiff of the steak a sizzling on the gridiron at our house; and say, when i think of it, i get wild. i'm as hungry as that bear that came to our camp, and sent us all up in trees like a covey of partridges." "if you're as hungry as that after just an afternoon's signal practice, think what'll happen when we've been hiking all day, and covered our little forty or fifty miles?" suggested andy, chuckling. "oh! come off, andy, you don't really mean that, do you?" called out eben over his shoulder. "i'm good for twenty-five miles, i think; but you give me a cold feeling when you talk about fifty. and poor old noodles here will melt away to just a grease spot, if the weather keeps on as warm as it is now." "don't let him worry you, eben," sang out seth. "i heard paul telling how at the most we might try for thirty the second day, so as to get ahead a bit. but what is going to count in this test is regularity--keeping up an even pace each day of the four. and chances are we'll own that fine trophy by the time we get back to beverly again." "didn't i hear something about our having to register at a lot of places along the way?" asked jotham. "yes, i believe that's a part of the game," replied seth. "it's only right, just to prove that we haven't cut across lots, and shirked any. mr. sargeant and the two members of the committee mean to wait up for us at each station, and kind of keep an eye on us. i guess they want to encourage us some, too, when we come in, dusty and tired and feeling pretty near fagged out. "some of the other fellows, steve slimmons, arty beecher, and two more, who expect to start our second patrol in the fall, wanted to go along with us; but mr. sargeant preferred to limit it to just the beavers. he said we were seasoned scouts by this time, while the other fellows might be called tenderfeet; and it would be a pity to run chances of losing the prize, just because one of them softies fell down." fritz offered this explanation, and somehow at mention of steve slimmons' name a slight smile could be seen flitting across more than one face. for well did the scouts remember when this same boy had been accounted one of the toughest lads in all milltown, as that part of beverly across the railroad tracks was called. at that time he had been called "slick" slimmons, and in many ways he deserved the name, for he was a smooth customer. but circumstances had arisen, as told in a previous volume of this series, whereby steve had gone through a rather serious experience, and had his eyes opened to the fact that in leading such a wild life he was carrying the heavy end of the log. he had broken with the tough crowd of which he had been a member up to then, and now was hand in glove with paul prentice and his scouts, in fact considered himself a member of beverly troop. the active lads found little trouble in negotiating the descent leading down to level ground. even noodles had become many times more agile than before he donned the magical khaki of the scouts; for the various duties that had to be performed from time to time by every member of the patrol had done wonders for the slow moving german-american boy. with their goal now in sight, the six scouts started off at a lively pace. if any of them felt in the least bit tired he was evidently determined not to show it to his comrades, or any one they might happen to meet on the road leading to beverly. pride is a great thing at certain times, and helps ride over many difficulties. so, in due time they separated, each fellow heading toward his own home. and the last words they called back to each other were in connection with the great hike upon which they expected to start on the following morning, which would be tuesday. many anxious looks were cast upward toward the blinking stars that night, and speculations indulged in as to the probable kind of weather that would be doled out to them while on the road. and more than one scout lay awake long after he went to bed, trying to lift the curtain that hid the future, just a little way, so as to get a peep of what was waiting for the beaver patrol, but of course without the least success. chapter iii the gentle cow "paul, how do we hold out for the third day on the hike?" "yes, and paul, please let us know just how much further you expect to coax the leg weary bunch on today? not to say that i'm tired; but then i know noodles, and another scout not far away right now, are grunting like fun every little rise in the road we come to," and seth gave his head a flirt in the quarter where eben was anxiously gripping his bugle, as if in momentary expectation of getting a signal from the patrol leader to blow the call that would signify a halt. "it's only four o'clock, fellows," began the acting scoutmaster. dismal groans sounded; but with a smile paul went on to add: "we've already made our twenty-five miles since sun-up, just this side of warwick; but it's a fine day, and i did hope we might hang on a little while further, so as to cut down our last day's hike a few miles. it's always the hardest part of the whole thing, the finishing spurt. but of course, if any of you feel played out we can call it off right now." eben and noodles braced themselves up at this, and tried to look as though they had no calling acquaintance with such a thing as fatigue. "oh! i'm good for a couple more miles, i guess," declared the former. "make idt tree, undt you will see how i holdt oudt!" proudly boasted the stout boy, who spent half his time mopping his red face; for the day had been a pretty warm one, so noodles, who had to carry a third again as much weight as any of his companions, thought. "bully boy!" exclaimed impulsive seth, "didn't i say they had the sand to do all we tried. you never would have believed noodles here could have covered the ground he has. scouting has been the making of him, as it will of any feller that cares to set his teeth together, and just try real hard." "i suggest then," went on paul, his face beaming with pleasure, "that we take a little rest right here, say of half an hour; and then march along again for three miles, as near as we can guess. and if we do that, fellows, it leaves only twenty more for the last day." "i reckon that silver trophy is as good as won," remarked andy mullane. "barring accidents; and you never can tell when something may happen," added wise seth. "then i hope it will be to you, and not to me," said eben, who was rubbing his shin at a place where he had bruised it earlier in the day. "have we got enough grub along to last out?" queried fritz. all eyes were turned toward noodles, who generally looked after this part of the business when they were abroad, either camping or tramping. "i wouldn't say yes, if fritz he puts der crimp in dot appetites off his," was what the cook announced, gravely. "then we'll see to it that he gets no more than his regular ration after this," paul declared, pretending to look severe. "huh! that makes me feel real bad right away, let me tell you, fellers," fritz remarked, touching his belt line with a rueful face. "however do you think i can fill up all this space here with just one ration? it's different with some of the rest of the bunch; take noodles for example, he hasn't got room for more'n half a ration. i speak for what he can't make way with." "say, there's a chance right now for you to fill up ahead of time!" exclaimed eben, as he pointed through the fence; and looking, the scouts saw a cow standing there, placidly chewing, her cud, and evidently watching them curiously as she attended strictly to business. "sure," fritz went on to say, quickly, getting to his feet, "she's got plenty of rations, quarts and quarts of fine rich milk. i've got half a notion to step in there, and see how it tastes. see here, if i tied a nickel or a dime in a piece of paper, and attached it to her horn, wouldn't that be all right, paul? ain't scouts got a right to live off the country as they hike through, 'specially if they pay for what they take?" "well, if it was a case of necessity, now----" began the scoutmaster. "it is," broke in eben, who for some reason seemed to want to egg fritz on, "our comrade's plumb near starved, you know, and we're talking of cutting his grub allowance down to half. but i don't think he's got the nerve to fill up on nice rich fresh milk, that's what. some people talk pretty loud, but when you pin 'em down, they say they didn't mean it." of course that finished fritz. if he had been joking before, he now took the matter in a serious light. "huh! that remark don't hit me, eben," he said, disdainfully, "if it was a ferocious old bull i might hesitate about trespassing on his field, but a gentle cow, whoever knew one to act ugly? here goes, after i've tied up this nickel in a piece of paper, with a string to it, to fix it on sukey's horn. anybody else feel milk thirsty? don't all speak at once now, because i'm first." apparently no one else was hankering after fresh milk just then; at least none of the scouts gave any indication of meaning to accompany the bold invader. "if you're really intending to go over the fence and try the milk supply," suggested paul. "i'd advise you to leave that red neck scarf that you're so proud of wearing, behind you, fritz." "yes, that's so," broke in seth, "cows, as well as bulls, don't fancy anything red, i've been told. better leave it with me, fritz." "huh, think i ain't on to your little game, seth carpenter," declared the other, making no move to take off the necktie in question, "don't i know that you've always wanted that scarf? ain't you tried to buy it off me more'n a few times? not much will i let you hold it. that tie stays by me. if the poor old cow don't like it, she can do the next best thing. now, watch me get my fill, fellers. milk is the staff of life, more'n bread; and i always did like it fresh. here goes." he clambered up on the top of the fence, while all the other scouts watched to see how the operation turned out. "take care, fritz," warned eben, solemnly, "she's got her eye on you, all right, and she's stopped chewing her cud too. p'raps she may turn out to be a hooker; you never can tell about cows. and chances are, she's got a calf up in the barn. you see, a cow is always ugly when she thinks they're agoin' to steal her calf away, like they did lots of other times." "oh! rats!" sneered the valiant fritz, drawing his staff over with him, so as to get a purchase on the ground within the field, and ease his intended jump. "listen, fritz," added jotham, "see that little enclosure just back of where she stands? looks like it might have been fenced off to protect some fruit trees or something. well, if i was in your boots now, and she made a jump for me, i'd tumble over that same fence in a hurry. a cow's got horns the same as a bull, and you'll be sorry if ever she tosses you." but fritz had evidently made up his mind, and would not allow anything to deter him. the more the other scouts threw out these hints the stronger became his determination to carry his clever scheme to completion. and when he said he was fond of fresh milk fritz only told the truth; though the chances were he would never have accepted such a risk only for the badgering of eben and seth. using his long staff in a dexterous way he dropped lightly to the ground, and immediately started to walk toward the spot where the cow stood. she had raised her head a little, and appeared to be observing his coming with certain suspicious signs. "go slow, fritz; she don't like your looks any too much!" warned paul, who had climbed to the top of the rail fence, the better to see what happened. perhaps fritz himself may have felt a little qualm just about that time, for the actions of the cow were far from reassuring; but he was too proud to show anything that seemed to savor of the "white feather" before his chums, especially after making all the boasts he had. and so he kept grimly on, even if his knees did begin to knock together a little, when he actually saw the cow suddenly lower her head, and throw up the dirt with those ugly looking short horns, to one of which he had so recently declared he meant to secure the coin he would leave, to pay for all the milk he expected to consume. paul had called out once or twice, words of warning. he also suggested that it would be wise for the adventurous one to turn back; because, if appearance went for anything the animal had a bad temper, and would be apt to give him more or less trouble. but that had no effect on fritz, who, having embarked on the venture, did not mean to back down until absolutely forced to do so. and so the other five scouts, ranged along the fence, watched to see what would happen. perhaps their hearts were beating just a little faster than ordinary; but if so, that was not a circumstance to the way fritz felt his throbbing like a trip hammer, even while he kept steadily moving ahead. he started to utter what he meant to be soothing words, as he approached the gentle bovine. he had heard farmers talking to their cows when starting to do the milking act, and thought it the proper caper. but bossy must have finally made up her mind that this trespasser had a suspicious look, and meant to carry off the little calf that could now be heard calling away off beyond a rise where a farm house and stable evidently lay. suddenly she lowered her head, and started toward fritz. frenzied shouts arose from those who were watching the proceedings from a safe distance. "run, fritz! she's coming!" bawled one. "remember the fence over there, fritz, and what i told you!" cried jotham. fritz did not take the trouble to reply. he could hardly have done so even had he so desired, for just then he was most actively employed. at the time the cow made her abrupt plunge toward him the scout could not have been more than thirty feet away. he was wise enough to realize that should he attempt to make a wild dash for the fence surrounding the field, the active four legged animal would be able to overtake him before he could get half way there. and as the one way left to him fritz jumped to one side, in order to avoid contact with those cruel-looking black horns. his first act was one of impulse rather than anything else; he just sprang to one side, and allowed the animal to go surging past, so close that he could have easily reached out his hand, and touched her flank, had he chosen to do so. of course she would quickly realize that her attack had been a failure, and recovering, turn again to renew it. he must not be on the same spot when that time came. and as there was no better opening offered than the enclosure mentioned by jotham, he started for the same, with the cow in full pursuit, and his chums shrieking all sorts of weird advice. so close was the angry animal behind him that at first fritz could not take the time to mount that fence. he chased around it, and as if accepting the challenge, bossy did the same, kicking her heels high in the air, and with tail flying far in the rear. fritz managed to keep a pretty good distance ahead of his pursuer, and as there did not seem to be any particular danger just then, some of the boys allowed their feelings of hilarity to have full swing, so that peals of riotous laughter floated to the indignant ears of the fugitive. indeed, eben laughed so much that he lost his hold, and fell into the meadow; but it was ludicrous to see how nimbly he clambered up again, as though fearful lest the cow take a sudden notion to dash that way, changing her tactics. meanwhile fritz was laying his plans looking to what he would call a coup. when he had gained a certain distance on the circling cow, so that he would have time to scramble over the fence, he hastened to put this scheme into operation. fritz had dropped upon the ground, and was evidently panting for breath. at any rate, the boys, perched like a lot of crows on the distant fence, could see him waving his campaign hat rapidly to and fro, as though trying to cool off after his recent lively experience. "look at the old cow, would you?" burst out eben, "she sees him now, i tell you! say, watch her try and jump that fence, to get closer acquainted with our chum. oh! my stars! what d'ye think of that now; ain't she gone and done it though?" while the bugler of beverly troop was speaking, the angry cow made a furious dash forward. eben had naturally imagined she meant to try and follow fritz over the fence but he was wrong. there was a terrific crash as the head of the charging beast came in contact with the frail fence; and the next thing they knew the cow had thrown down an entire section, so that no longer did any barrier separate her from the object of her increasing fury. chapter iv in alabama camp fritz was no longer sitting there taking things comfortably, and cooling himself off by using his hat as a fan. with the terrific crash the scout was on his feet, ready for further flight, as he saw the head of the cow not ten feet away from where he stood. this time he made straight for another section of the fence, and passed over it "like a bird," as seth declared. but evidently fences had little terror for the aroused cow, since she immediately proceeded to knock down another section in about the space of time it would take to read the shortest riot act ever known. this prompt act again placed her on the same side as the fleeing fritz. the loud shouts of his chums warned him of her coming on the scene again, even if that suspicious crash had failed to do so. fritz was becoming used to clambering over fences by now; in fact it seemed to be something like a settled habit. the cow saw his lead, and went him one better, for a third crash told how the poorly constructed fence had gone down before her rush, like a pack of cards in the wind. all the while fritz was changing his location. he calculated that if only he could hold out for say three more "climbs," he would be in a position to make a run for the border fence, which was made much more stoutly then the division one, and would probably turn back even a swooping bull. after it was all over, fritz would demand that his comrades give him full credit for his cunning lead. meanwhile he was kept as busy as any real beaver; getting first on one side of the crumpling fence, and then on the other; while the cow kept on making kindling wood of the barrier. paul took advantage of the animal's attention being wholly centred upon fritz, to run out upon the field, and pick up the cast-off staff of the busy scout. his intention at the time was to render all the assistance in his power; but discovering that fritz was rapidly approaching a point where he could work out his own salvation, the scoutmaster thought discretion on his part warranted a hasty departure, unless he wished to take the place his comrade vacated. the boys on the fence were shouting, and waving their hats, and doing all manner of things calculated to attract the attention of the "gentle cow," and cause her to ease up in her attack; but apparently she was not to be bought off so cheaply, and meant to pursue her advantage to the bitter end. then came the chance for which the artful fritz had been so industriously working, when he made one more fling over the remnant of the enclosure fence, and upon reaching the outside, galloped away toward the road as fast as his legs could carry him. of course the cow chased after him again as soon as she had knocked down another section of fence; but fritz seemed to have pretty good wind, considering all he had been through; and he showed excellent sprinting powers that promised to put him among the leaders at the next high school field sports exhibition. and the other five scouts gave him a hearty cheer when they saw him nimbly take the high fence on the bound, with those wicked horns not more than five feet in his rear. they soon joined the panting one, who greeted his mates with a cheery grin, as though conscious of having done very well, under such distracting conditions. "but you've yet to know whether that milk is as rich as you hoped?" remarked paul, smilingly, as he handed fritz his staff. "and chances are, you went and lost that blessed nickel you meant to tie to one of gentle bossy's horns; what a shame, and a waste of good coin!" said seth, pretending to be very much disappointed. "huh! getting off pretty cheap at that!" grunted fritz. "ketch me tryin' to milk any cow that's got a calf up in the barn. i'd rather face two bulls than one like her. don't ever mention milk to me again; i know i'll just despise the looks of it from now on. whew! but didn't she mean business; and if ever those sharp horns had got attached to me, it would have been a hard job to break away." "if you feel rested, and have changed your mind about that same splendid milk," remarked paul, "perhaps we'd better be getting along now. three miles--why, fritz, i wouldn't be much surprised if you covered all of that in the little chase you put up. all you needed to beat the record for flying was a pair of wings." fritz was wonderfully good-natured, and they could not make him angry. when other boys were apt to scowl and feel "grouchy," fritz would come up smilingly after each and every round, ready to take punishment without limit. and so they continued to walk along the road, chatting among themselves as cheerily as footsore and weary scouts might be expected to do when trying to encourage each other to further exertions. every step really meant a good deal to their success, for in the course of ten minutes paul declared that another mile had been duly covered. when they saw another cow inside a fenced enclosure the boys tried by every argument they could devise to tempt fritz to try his hand once more, but he steadfastly declined to accept the dare. "say what you like, fellers," he remarked firmly, "me and cows are on the outs, for this trip anyway. it's somebody else's turn to afford amusement for the bunch. i've sure done my duty by the crowd. let me be, won't you? tackle seth there, or babe adams. i happen to know that they like milk just every bit as much as i do. water's good enough for me, right now; and here's the spring i've been looking for a long while." at that they all hastened to discover some spots where it was possible to lap up a sufficient supply of the clear fluid. this cooling drink seemed to invigorate the boys, so that when they started off again it was with a somewhat quicker step, and heads that were held up straighter than of late. it enabled them to reel off another mile without any great effort. "only one more, and then we've just got to let up on this thing," said paul. "i really believe you're getting tired of it yourself, mr. scoutmaster?" ventured one of the boys, eagerly; for if paul would only confess to this, they felt that they could stand their own weaknesses better. "and that is no joke," laughed paul, frankly. "you see, i haven't been hardening my muscles as much lately as when the baseball season was in full swing. but with two miles placed to our account, we shouldn't be much worried about how things are coming out. will we try for that last mile, boys? it's for you to say!" he received a unanimous shout of approval, which announced that the others were of a united mind. and so they kept along the road though some steps lagged painfully, and it was mainly through the exertions of the mind that the body was whipped into obeying. finally paul turned to eben, and made a quick gesture that the bugler was waiting for, since he immediately raised the shining instrument to his lips, puffed out his cheeks, took in a tremendous breath, and gave the call that was next to the "fall in for supper" signal, the most popular known to the scouts. "alabama! here we rest!" cried seth, turning aside into the woods after paul, who evidently had his eye on a certain location, where he meant to pitch the third night's camp. "that's a good idea," remarked andy, always quick to seize upon anything that gave a hint concerning his beloved south, "let's call this alabama camp!" "put it to a vote," called out fritz, "all in favor of the same say aye; contrary no. the ayes have it unanimously. hurrah for alabama camp. seems like that's a good restful name; and i hope we sleep right good here; for most of us are pretty well used up." "don't mention that same above a whisper," warned seth, "because we've got two awfully touchy chums along, who're always carrying chips on their shoulders when it comes to the subject of being knocked out. say, paul, did you know about this camp site before; because it's the dandiest place we've struck on the big hike?" "just dumb luck," replied the other, shaking his head in the negative. "i thought it looked good this way, when i called for a halt. and you're just about right, seth; it does fill the bill great. here's our spring of clear cold water; and there you have a splendid place to start your fire, jotham. now, let's throw ourselves down for a little while, and then when we feel rested, we'll get busy doing things." all of them were only too glad to do as paul suggested. and when another ten minutes had slipped past, jotham struggled to his feet to wearily but determinedly gather together some material with which to start a blaze. when he had it going noodles realized that it was now up to him to start getting some supper cooking. they had come in very light marching order, since paul realized that if they hoped to win that lovely prize he must not load any of the boys down with superfluous burdens. as a rule they depended on the farmers to supply them with such things as they needed, chiefly eggs and milk. the former they had along with them, several dozen eggs in fact, purchased from an obliging farmer earlier in the afternoon, and fortunately carried in other knapsacks than that of fritz, who would have smashed the entire supply, had he been in charge of the same at the time of his exciting adventure with the cow. upon putting it to a vote they decided that they could just as well do without any milk for one night; especially after fritz had shown them how difficult it sometimes was to accumulate a supply. of course a coffee pot had been brought along, for somehow a camp must always seem like a dreary desert without the delicious smell of boiling coffee at each and every meal that is prepared. so noodles made a grand big omelette, using sixteen eggs for the same, and the two frying pans that had been strapped, one to each pack of a couple of scouts. besides this they had some cheese and crackers, which would help fill the vacuum that seemed to exist an hour after each and every meal. several potatoes for each scout were duly placed in the red ashes of the fire, and jealously watched, in order that they might not scorch too badly before being thoroughly roasted. on the whole, there was no reason for being ashamed of that camp supper. everything tasted just "prime," as several of the boys took pains to say; for they were artful enough to know that by showering words of praise upon the cook, they might secure his valuable services for all time to come, because noodles was open to flattery. and what was better still, there was an abundant supply for all of them, regardless of the difference in appetites; fritz was not stinted in the least, for he actually declined a further helping, and had to be urged to clean out the pan just to keep "that little bit of omelet from being wasted." having no tent along, and only a couple of dingy old blankets which they expected to use for sending smoke signals, should the occasion arise, the scouts were compelled to resort to more primitive ways of spending the night than usual. but then paul had shown them how to sleep with their heads away from the fire; and he also arranged to keep the small blaze going during the entire night, since it was apt to get pretty chilly along about two in the morning. all these things had been arranged on the first night out, so that by this time the boys were pretty well accustomed to the novel way of sleeping. and on the whole they had taken to it fairly well, no one complaining save when the mosquitoes annoyed them in one camp near the water. an hour after supper had been disposed of some of the boys were already beginning to nod drowsily. and when fellows are just dead tired it seems a sin to try and keep them awake, especially when there is no need of it. so paul announced that those who wanted to could turn in, while the rest were enjoined to keep quiet, doing their talking in whispers, so as not to disturb the sleepers; just as if the discharge of a six pound cannon close by would bother those weary scouts, once they lost themselves in the dreamland of nod. babe adams had just stepped over to get a last drink at the near-by spring, when the others were surprised to see him come tearing back again, evidently in great excitement. "paul, come over here with me, and you can see it!" he called out. "see what?" demanded the scoutmaster, at the same time climbing to his feet. "looks like some farmhouse might be afire; because you c'n see the red flames jumping up like fun!" was the thrilling announcement made by the tenderfoot scout. chapter v a helping hand "it's a fire, all right!" announced paul, after he had taken a good look. "no question about that," declared seth, who was right on the heels of the others, for you could never keep him quiet when there was anything going on, because he always wanted to be "in the swim." "yes, either a house, or a barn ablaze," remarked eben, sagely. "might be only a hay stack, you know," suggested jotham. "don't burn like that to me; i seem to see something of a building every now and then, when the flames shoot up," paul went on to remark, for he was always discovering things upon which to found a reasonable theory. "how far away does it lie, dy'e think, paul?" asked andy. "not more than half a mile, i should say," came the reply. "just my idea to a dot," jotham admitted. "why, you c'n even hear the crackle of the flames, whenever the night wind happens to blow this way," babe adams asserted; and they all agreed with him, for the same sound had come to their ears also. "we might help the poor old farmer, if we only happened to be closer," eben said, in the goodness of his heart. "and if we didn't feel so bunged-up tired," added andy. somehow the scouts began to show signs of nervousness. those might seem like pretty good excuses to some fellows; but when a boy becomes a scout he somehow looks at things in a different way from in the old days. no matter how tired he may be, he eagerly seizes on a chance to be useful to others; to do some good deed, so as to experience the delightful glow that always follows a helpful act. "say, how about it?" began jotham. "could we be useful if we did manage to trot over there, paul?" andy demanded. "i'm sure we might," answered the scoutmaster, firmly; "and if we're going, why, the sooner we make a start the better. seconds count when a house or barn is on fire. i feel pretty well rested, speaking for myself; and half a mile each way oughtn't to do us up. we're scouts on a long hike, and able to do lots of things that other fellows wouldn't dare attempt." "take me along, paul!" cried jotham. "and me!" "hope you won't forget that i'm ready to be in the bunch," seth exclaimed. in fact, there was not one out of paul's seven companions who did not vociferously inform the leader of the patrol that he was a subject for the draft. "you can't all go," decided paul, quick to decide; "and as two fellows ought to stay and look after camp while the rest are off, i'll appoint noodles and eben to that duty." groans followed the announcement. "oh! all right, paul; just as you say," remarked the bugler, after giving vent to his disappointment in this manner; "we'll keep guard while the rest of you are having a bully good time. "perhaps something will happen along here to let us enjoy ourselves." "if you need help let us know it," paul called back, for he was already moving off in the direction of the fire, followed by the five lucky scouts. "how?" bellowed noodles; "do we whoop her up, paul?" "sound the assembly, and we'll hurry back," came the answer, as the pack of boys disappeared in the darkness of the night. they kept pretty well together, so that none might stray. consequently, when one happened to trip over some log or other obstacle that lay in the path he would sing out to warn his comrades, so as to save them from the same trouble. with such a bright beacon ahead there was no trouble about keeping on a direct line for the fire. and all the while it seemed to be getting more furious. indeed, what with the shouts that came to their ears, the bellowing of cattle, and whinnying of horses, things began to get pretty lively as they approached the farmyard. presently they seemed to break out from the woods, and reach an open field. beyond this they could plainly see the fire. "it's a barn, all right!" gasped jotham, immediately. "yes, and they seem to be afraid that the farmhouse will go, too," added andy. "they're throwing buckets of water on it, sure enough," sang out babe adams. now some of the boys could easily have outrun their mates, being possessed of longer legs, or the ability to sprint on occasion; but they had the good sense to accommodate themselves to the rest, so that they were still in a squad when drawing near the scene of the excitement. a man and a woman seemed to be about the sole persons visible, and they were laboring like trojans to keep the fire from communicating to the low farmhouse that was situated close to the burning barn. the six scouts must have dawned upon the vision of the sorely pressed farmer and his wife almost like angels, for the pair were nearly exhausted, what with the labor and the excitement. "buckets--water--let us help you!" was what paul exclaimed as they came up. cows were running this way and that, bellowing like mad, as though half crazed. what with frightened chickens cackling, and hogs grunting in their near-by pen, the scene was one that those boys would not forget in a hurry. "in the kitchen--help yourselves!" the farmer said, pointing as he spoke; and without waiting for any further invitation the scouts rushed pellmell into the rear part of the house, where they seized upon all sorts of utensils, from a big dishpan, to buckets, and even a small tin foot bath tub. a brook ran close to the barn, as paul had learned with his first comprehensive glance around. this promised to be a most fortunate thing for the would be fire-fighters. led by the scoutmaster, the boys dashed in that direction, filled whatever vessel they happened to be carrying, and then hurried back to the house. here the water was dashed over the side of the building that seemed to be already scorching under the fierce heat of the blazing barn. "get us a ladder; that roof will be on fire if we don't throw water over it!" paul shouted to the farmer, as he came in contact with the man. "this way--there's a ladder here by the hen house!" was what he replied. several of the boys seized upon it, and before you could think twice they were rushing the ladder toward the side of the house. paul climbed up, carrying with him a full bucket of water; and having dashed the contents of this in such a way as to wet a considerable portion of the shingle roof, he threw the bucket down to one of the boys below. another was quickly placed in his hands. everybody was working like a beaver now, even the farmer's wife, carrying water from the creek, and getting it up to the boy on the ladder. it was pretty warm work, for the heat of the burning barn seemed terrific; but then boys can stand a good deal, especially when excited, and bent on accomplishing things; and paul stuck it out, though he afterwards found several little holes had been burned in his outing shirt by flying sparks. the barn, of course, was beyond saving, and all their energies must be expended on the house. by slow degrees the fire was burning itself out. already paul felt that the worst was past, and that if they could only keep this up for another ten minutes all would be well. a couple of neighbors had come along by this time, to help as best they could. when a fire takes place in the country everybody is ready and willing to lend a hand at carrying out things, or fighting the flames in a primitive fashion; for neighbors have to depend more or less upon each other in case of necessity. "i reckon the house ain't liable to go this time," andy remarked, when paul came down the ladder finally, trembling from his continued exertions, which had been considerable of a strain on the lad, wearied as he was with three days' tramping. "that's a fact," remarked the farmer, who came hustling forward about this time, "and i owe you boys a heap for what you done this night. i guess now, only for you comin' to help, i'd a lost my house as well as my barn. as it is i've got a lot to be thankful for. just put insurance on the barn, and the new crop of hay last week. i call that being pretty lucky for once." he shook hands with each of the scouts, and asked after their names. "i want to let your folks know what you done for us this night, boys," he said, "and p'raps you might accept some little present later on, just as a sort of remembrance, you know." "how did the fire start, sir?" asked paul. "that's what bothers me a heap," replied the farmer. "then you don't know?" continued the scoutmaster, who felt a reasonable curiosity to learn what he could of the matter while on the spot. "it's all a blank mystery to me, for a fact," continued the farmer, whose name the boys had learned was mr. rollins. "my barn and stable was all one, you see. my man has been away all day, and i had to look after the stock myself, but i finished just as dark set in, before supper, in fact, so there ain't been so much as a lighted lantern around here tonight." "perhaps, when you lighted your pipe you may have thrown the match away, and it fell in the hay?" suggested paul. "if it had, the fire'd started long ago; fact is, i'd a seen it right away. and to settle that right in the start let me say i don't smoke at all, and didn't have any occasion to strike a single match while out here." of course this statement of the farmer seemed to settle all idea of his having been in any way responsible for the burning of the barn. "it looks like a big black mystery, all right," declared fritz, who always liked to come upon some knotty problem that needed solving. "have you any idea that the fire could have been the work of tramps?" paul went on to ask. "we are never troubled that way up here," replied the farmer. "you see, it's away from the railroad, and hoboes generally follow the ties when they tramp across country." "that makes it all the more queer how the fire could have started," paul went on to remark, thoughtfully. "couldn't a been one of the cows taken to smoking, i suppose?" ventured seth, in a humorous vein. "one thing sure," continued the farmer, a little uneasily, "that fire must have been caused by what they call spontaneous combustion; or else somebody set it on purpose." "do you know of anybody who would do such a terrible thing; that is, have you any enemy that you know of, sir?" questioned paul. "none that i would ever suspect of such a mean thing as that," was the farmer's ready reply. "we're human around here, you know, and may have our little differences now and then, but they ain't none of 'em serious enough to tempt a man to burn a neighbor's barn. no, that's a dead sure thing." "well, i'm glad to hear it," the scoutmaster went on. "and i don't suppose now, you've missed any valuables, have you, sir?" the farmer turned a shade whiter, and paul could see that a shiver went through his frame. "gosh! i hadn't thought about that. wait here a minute, will you, please?" with that he dashed into the house, as though a sudden terrible suspicion had assailed him. the six scouts stood there awaiting his return. mrs. rollins was talking with the neighbors, as they watched the last of the barn disappearing in a bed of red cinders. hardly had a full minute passed before the boys saw the farmer come leaping out of the building again. no need for any one to ask a question, because his whole appearance told the story of new excitement and mystery. if ever a man looked worried and nearly heart broken the farmer did then. "it's sure enough gone, every cent of it!" he groaned, as he reached the scouts. "your money, i suppose you mean?" paul asked, sympathetically; while fritz and seth pricked up their ears eagerly at the prospect of another chapter being added to the little excitement of the evening. "yes, three thousand dollars that was to pay off my mortgage next week. i had it hid away where i thought no thief could even find it; but the little tin box, and everything has been carried off. and now i know why the barn was fired--so as to keep the missus and me out there, while the rascal made a sneak into the house, and laid hands on my savings. all gone, and the mortgage due next week!" chapter vi the home-coming of jo davies "whew! that's tough!" observed seth. one or two of the other scouts whistled, to indicate the strained condition of their nerves; and all of them pressed up a little closer, so as not to lose a single word of what was passing. "but if as you say, sir, that you had this money securely hidden, it doesn't seem possible that an ordinary tramp would know the place where you kept it, so that he could dodge right into the house, and in a minute be off with it; isn't that so?" paul was the greatest hand you ever heard of to dip deeply into a thing. where most other boys of his age would be satisfied to simply listen, and wonder, he always persisted in asking questions, in order to get at the facts. and he was not born in missouri either, as seth often laughingly declared. the farmer looked at him. there was a frown beginning to gather on his forehead as though sudden and serious doubts had commenced to take a grip on his mind. "if he took my money i'll have the law on him, as sure as my name is sile rollins," paul heard him mutter, half to himself. "then you've thought of some one who might have known that you had three thousand dollars under your roof, is that it, sir?" he asked. "y-yes, but it's hard to suspect jo, when i've done so much for him these years he's been with me," admitted the owner of the farm; though at the same time his face took on a hard expression, and he ground his teeth together furiously, while he went on to say, "but if so be he has robbed me, i ain't called upon to have any mercy on him, just because his old mother once nursed my wife, and i guess saved her life. jo has got to hand my money back, or take the consequences." "is jo your hired man?" paul asked. the farmer nodded his head moodily; he was evidently a prey to mingled feelings, and close upon the border of a dazed condition. these calamities following so swiftly upon each other's heels had taken his breath away. but presently he would recover, and be eager to do something. "you said just a bit ago that he was away today, and that you had to do the chores this evening, looking after the stock, and such things; wasn't that it, sir?" continued the scoutmaster. "he asked to have this afternoon off; wouldn't say why he wanted to get away, either. and by ginger! now that i think of it, jo did look kind of excited when he was asking me for leave. i can see why that should be so. he was figuring on this nasty little game right then and there. he wanted to be able to prove an _alibi_ in case he was ever accused. and this evening he must have put a match to the hay in the barn, and then watched his chance to creep into the house when both of us was busy trying to save the stock. oh! it makes my blood boil just to think of it. and i never would have believed jo davies could have been so cold blooded as to take the chances of burnin' the animals he seemed to be so fond of." "did he stay here over night with you?" paul asked. "not as a rule, jo didn't. you see, he's got an old mother, and they live in a little cottage about a mile away from here toward town. so jo, he always made it a point to sleep there. i had no fault to find, because he was on hand bright and early every morning. but this will kill his old mother; however could he do it? chances are, he fell in with some racing men when we had the county fair, and has got to gambling. but i'll be ruined if i don't get that money back again." "could we help you in any way, mr. rollins? you know, boy scouts are always bound to be of assistance whenever they find a chance. we're on a great hike just now, and a little leg weary; but if we can stand by you further, please let us know. how about that, boys?" and paul turned toward his chums as he spoke. "that's the ticket, paul!" replied andy, promptly. "our sentiments, every time," said seth. and the others gave vigorous nods, to indicate that they were all of the same mind; which unanimity of opinion must have been a great satisfaction to the leader. "then let's go right away, boys!" remarked the farmer, eagerly. "p'raps now we might come up with jo on the way, and ketch him with the goods on. if he'll only give me back my money i'll agree not to prosecute, on account of his poor old mother, if nothing else. but i'm as bad off as a beggar if i lose all that hard earned cash." without saying anything to mrs. rollins or the neighbors, they hurried away, the boys keeping in a cluster around the farmer. if any of the scouts began to feel twinges in the muscles of their legs, already hard pushed, they valiantly fought against betraying the weakness. besides, the excitement acted as a tonic upon them, and seemed to lend them additional powers of endurance, just as it does in foot races where the strain is terrific. "it looks bad for jo davies, i should think, paul," andy managed to say, as they pushed resolutely along. "well, he is the one fellow who may have known about the money," admitted the scout master, "and if the temptation ever came to him, he could easily watch his employer, and learn where he hid the cash. how about that, mr. rollins?" the farmer had heard what was being said, and immediately replied: "if jo was bent on robbery, p'raps he could have watched me some time, and seen where i hid that little tin box away in the attic. i used to go there once a week to add some money to the savings that i'd foolishly drawn out of bank long before i needed 'em, just to see how it felt to be rich for a little while." "when was the last time you went up there to look at it?" paul asked. "let me see, when web sterry paid me for the heifer i sold him i put the money away; and that was just ten days back." "and it was all there then, you say?" questioned paul. "surely," replied the farmer. "was jo working near the house then, can you remember, sir?" mr. rollins appeared to reflect. "when was the day we did some carpenter work on that extension--as sure as anything it was the day webb paid me! yes, i remember, now, that jo came around from his work on the plane, and told me webb was there." the farmer's excitement was increasing. things, under the clever questioning of the young scoutmaster, seemed to be fitting in with each other, just as a carpenter dovetails the ends of a box together. "it looks as though jo might have spied on you when you went up to the attic to put that new money away with the rest. if he suspected that you were keeping a large sum in the house that's what he would most likely do when he knew you had just taken in some more cash. now, i don't know jo davies, and i don't like to accuse him of such a terrible crime; but circumstantial evidence all points in his direction, mr. rollins." paul measured his words. he never liked to think ill of any one; but really in this case it seemed as though there could be hardly any doubt at all; jo davies must be the guilty party. "are we gettin' near where jo lives?" asked jotham, trying to speak lightly, although there was a plain vein of anxiety in his voice; for when a fellow has covered nearly thirty miles since sun-up, every rod counts after that; and following each little rest the muscles seem to stiffen wonderfully. "more'n two-thirds the way there," replied the farmer. "we'll see a light, like as not, when we get around this turn in the woods road. that'll come from the little cabin where he lives with his old mother. oh! but i'm sorry for mrs. davies; and the boy, he always seemed to think so much of his maw, too. you never can tell, once these fast fliers get to running with racing men. but i only hope i get my own back again. that's the main thing with me just now, you know. and if jo, he seems sorry, i might try and forget what he's done. it all depends on how things turn out. see, just as i told you, there's the light ahead." all of them saw it; and as they continued to walk hastily forward through the darkness paul was thinking how human mr. rollins was, after all; for it was only natural that his first thought should be in connection with the safe recovery of his hard earned money. they rapidly drew near the cottage, and all of the boys were beginning to wonder what was fated to happen next on the programme. doubtless they were some of them fairly quivering with eagerness, and hoping that the thief might be caught examining the stolen cash box. "hush! there's somebody coming along over there; stand still, everybody!" paul gave warning, suddenly, and the whole party remained motionless, watching a lighted lantern that was moving rapidly toward the cottage from the opposite direction, being evidently carried by an approaching man. it continued to advance straight toward the cottage. then the unknown opened the door, and went in. "that was jo," muttered mr. rollins, "i seen his face plain as anything; but why would he be coming from the direction of town, instead of my place?" "oh! that might be only a clever little trick, sir," seth made haste to say, as though to indicate in this way that scouts were able to see back of all such sly dodges. "say, he sure had something under his arm," broke in jotham just then. "yes, i saw that, too," added paul. "it was a small package, not much larger than a cigar box, i should say, and wrapped up in brown paper." "p'raps my tin cash box?" suggested mr. rollins, in trembling tones. "it might be, though i hardly think any one smart enough to play such a game as setting fire to a barn in order to draw all attention away from the house he wanted to rob, would be silly enough to carry home a tin box that would convict him, if ever it was found there." paul made this remark. they had once more started to advance, though by no means as rapidly as before. the fact that jo davies had arrived just before them, and not only carrying a lighted lantern, but with a suspicious packet under his arm, seemed to necessitate a change of pace, as well as a new line of action. "let's sneak up to the window, and peek in?" suggested fritz, and somehow the idea appealed to the others, for without any argument they proceeded to carry out the plan of campaign. it promised to be easy work. the shade seemed to be all the way up, as though the old lady who lived in the humble cottage had left a light near the window purposely in order to cheer her boy when he turned the bend below, and came in sight of home. as noiselessly as possible, therefore, the six scouts, accompanied by the farmer, crept toward this window. the sill was not over four feet from the ground, and could be easily reached; indeed, in order not to expose themselves, they were compelled to stoop rather low when approaching the spot. some sort of flower garden lay under the window. paul remembered stepping upon unseen plants, and somehow felt a pang of regret at thus injuring what had probably taken much of the old lady's time and attention to nurse along to the flowering stage. but this was an occasion when all minor scruples must be laid aside. when a man has been basely robbed, and by an employee in whom he has put the utmost confidence, one cannot stand on ceremony, even if pet flowerbeds are rudely demolished. and if the farmer's suspicions turned out to be real facts, jo davies' old mother was apt to presently have worries besides which the breaking of her flowers would not be a circumstance. now they had reached a point where, by raising their heads, they could peep into the room where the lamp gave such illumination. as scouts the boys had long ago learned to be cautious in whatever they attempted; and hence they did not immediately thrust their heads upward, at the risk of attracting the attention of whoever might be within the room. on the contrary each fellow slowly and carefully raised himself, inch by inch, until his eyes, having passed the lower sill he could see, first the low ceiling, then the upper part of the opposite wall, and last of all the occupants themselves. they were two in number, one an old woman with a sweet face and snow-white hair; the other a tall, boyish-looking chap, undoubtedly the jo who had been farmhand to mr. rollins, and was now under the dreadful ban of suspicion. when paul first caught sight of these two they were bending over the table, on which something evidently lay that had been holding their attention. jo was talking excitedly. every minute he would pause in whatever he was saying, to throw his arms around the little old lady, who in turn would clasp her arms about his neck; and in this way they seemed to be exchanging mutual congratulations. but when they moved aside while thus embracing, paul felt a cold chill run up and down his spine because _there upon the table were several piles of bank bills_! chapter vii innocent or guilty? paul could feel the farmer trembling as he happened to come in contact with his person; and from this he guessed that mr. rollins had also discovered the pile of money on the table. was jo davies, then, such a silly fellow as this? it did not seem possible that anyone not a fool would rob his employer, and immediately hurry home, to throw the stolen money before his dear old mother, with some wonderful story of how he had found it on the road, perhaps, or had it given to him by a millionaire whose horse he stopped on the highway, when it was running away with a lady in the vehicle. and somehow, from the few little glimpses paul had caught of the young fellow's face he rather liked jo davies. if, as seemed very likely, the young man had been tempted to steal this money, it would cause paul a feeling of regret, even though he had not known there was such a being as jo davies in the world half an hour before. "whoo! see the long green!" he heard seth whisper. "reckon he's gone and done it, worse luck!" and from the words and the manner of his saying them, paul guessed that the speaker must have taken a fancy to jo, as well as himself. the window happened to be shut, and so this whisper attracted no attention on the part of those within the cottage. indeed, they were so given over to excitement themselves that they were hardly apt to notice anything out of the common. paul could feel the farmer beginning to slip down, and it was easy to understand that the sight of all that money made him want to rush inside, to claim it, before the bold thief had a chance to hide his plunder somewhere. and this was the only possible thing that should be done. while mr. rollins in the kindness of his heart might wish to spare the dear old lady all he could, he dared not take any chances of losing sight of his property. "come on, boys!" that was quite enough, for when the other scouts heard paul say these three simple words they knew that there was going to be something doing. and quickly did they proceed to fall in behind their leader and the farmer. under ordinary conditions, perhaps, it might have occurred to the patrol leader to throw some sort of guard around the cabin, so as to prevent the escape of the desperate thief. he did not think of doing such a thing now, for various reasons. in the first place, one of the scouts could hardly hope to cope with such a husky young fellow as the farmhand, if once he wanted to break through the line. then again, it hardly seemed likely that jo davies would attempt to flee, when his old mother was there to witness his confusion; in fact, the chances appeared to be that he would brazen it out, and try to claim that the money belonged to him. the door was close at hand, so that it took only part of a minute for the eager farmer to reach the means of ingress. he did not hesitate a second, after having set eyes on all that alluring pile of bank notes on the table, under the glow of the lamp. and when he suddenly opened the door, to burst into the room, paul and the other scouts were close upon his heels, every fellow anxious to see what was about to happen. of course the noise caused by their entrance in such a mass, was heard by those in the room. jo davies sprang to his feet, and assumed an attitude of defiance, one arm extended, as though to defend the little fortune that lay there exposed so recklessly upon the table. possibly this was the very first time in all his life that he had experienced such a sensation as fear of robbery. when a man has never possessed anything worth stealing, he can hardly know what the feeling is. so it must have been sheer instinct that caused jo to thus stand on guard, ready apparently to fight, in order to protect his property, however recently it may have come into his possession. no wonder that he felt this sudden alarm, to have the door of his home rudely thrown open, and a horde of fellows fairly tumbling over each other, in their eagerness to enter. then, the look of alarm seemed to pass away from the face of the young fellow; as though he had recognized his employer. paul wondered whether this was real or cleverly assumed. he saw jo actually smile, and advancing a step, half hold out his hand toward mr. rollins. but the farmer was looking very stern just then. he either did not see the extended hand, or else meant to ignore it purposely, for he certainly made no move toward taking it. "i've got back, mr. rollins," jo said, his voice rather shaky, either from excitement, or some other reason; and he stared hard at paul and the other khaki-garbed scouts, as though puzzled to account for their being there. "so i see," replied the farmer, grimly. "i hope you didn't hev too much trouble with the stock, mr. rollins," jo went on to say, in a half hesitating sort of way. "well, if i did, they are all safe and sound; perhaps you'd like to know that now," the farmer went on to remark, a little bitterly. jo looked at him queerly. "he either doesn't understand what that means, or else is trying to seem ignorant," was what paul thought, seeing this expression of wonderment. "i'm glad to hear that, sure i am, mr. rollins," the other remarked, slowly, "an' seein' as how you're dropped in on us unexpected like, p'raps i ought to tell you what i meant to say in the mornin.'" "what's that?" demanded mr. rollins, unconsciously edging a little closer to the table where that tempting display of greenbacks could be seen; just as though he began to fear that it might suddenly take wings and fly away before he could put in a claim for his property. "i've come in for a little windfall, sir," began jo, proudly it appeared. "looks like you had," grumbled the farmer, as he flashed his eyes again toward the display so near at hand. "and if so be you're of the same mind about that thatcher farm, p'raps we might come to terms about the same, sir. i guess you'd just as lief sell it to _me_ as anybody else, wouldn't you, mr. rollins?" "you seem to have a lot of money all of a sudden, jo?" suggested the farmer, in a hoarse tone, so that he had to clear his throat twice while speaking. "yes, sir, that's so," declared the young farm hand, eagerly. "i never dreamed of such grand good fortune as an old aunt of mine dying up in indianapolis, and leaving me all she had in bank. that's why i asked to get off this afternoon, mr. rollins, so i could run over, and get what was comin' to me." the farmer was grinding his teeth a little; but so long as he believed he saw all his stolen hoard before him, within reach of his hand, he seemed able to control himself; he even waxed a trifle sarcastic, paul thought, when, looking straight at his hired man, he went on to say: "perhaps now, jo, i might give a pretty good guess about the size of this wonderful fortune you've come into so sudden-like. how would three thousand sound to you, jo? is that about the figure now, tell me?" jo turned a wondering face toward his old mother. "well, did you ever hear the beat of that, maw?" he cried, "mr. rollins has just guessed the size of my pile to a dollar, because it was just three thousand old aunt libby left me--a few dollars over p'raps. however did you know it, sir?" and he once more faced the sneering farmer. "i'll tell you, jo," continued mr. rollins, coldly, "i happen to have just had three thousand dollars in bills stolen from my house this very night, by some rascal who first of all set fire to my stable and barn, so that the missus and me'd be so taken up with saving our pet stock we'd leave the farmhouse unguarded. yes, and there _was_ a few dollars more'n three thousand dollars, jo. queer coincidence i'd call it now, wouldn't you?" jo turned deathly white, and stared at his employer. his eyes were round with real, or assumed horror. if he was "putting on," as seth would term it, then this farm hand must be a pretty clever actor for a crude country bumpkin, paul thought. "oh! jo, my boy, my boy, what does he mean by saying that?" the little old lady had arisen from her chair, though she trembled so that she seemed in danger of falling; but paul unconsciously moved a pace closer, ready to catch her in his arms if she swooned. but jo, quick as a flash, hearing her voice, whirled around, and threw a protecting arm about her. "it's all right, maw; don't you go and be afraid. i ain't done nawthing you need to be fearful about. this money's mine! set down again, deary. don't you worrit about jo. he ain't agoin' to make your dear old heart bleed, sure he ain't." and somehow, when paul saw the tender way in which the rough farm boy forced the little old lady back into her chair, and caught the positive tone in which he gave her this assurance, he seemed almost ready to believe jo _must_ be innocent; although when he glanced at the money his heart misgave him again. "now, mr. rollins, please tell me what it all means?" asked jo, turning and facing his employer again, with a bold, self-confident manner that must have astonished the farmer not a little. "i just come up from town as fast as i could hurry, because, you see, i knew i was bringin' the greatest of news to maw here. i did see a sorter light in the sky when i was leavin' town, and thinks i to myself, that old swamp back of the ten acre patch must be burnin' again; but i never dreamed it was the stable and hay barn, sure i didn't sir." the farmer hardly seemed to know what to say to this, he was so taken aback by the utter absence of guilt in the face and manner of jo. before he could frame any sort of reply the young fellow had spoken again. "you said as how you'd got all the stock out safe, didn't you, mr. rollins? i'd just hate to think of polly and sue and the hosses bein' burned up. whatever d'ye think could a set the fire agoin'? mebbe that last hay we put in wa'n't as well cured as it might a been, an' it's been heatin' right along. i meant to look into it more'n once, but somethin' always came along an' i plumb forgot it." mr. rollins looked at him, and frowned. he did not know how to answer such a lead as this. he was growing impatient, almost angry again. "give me my money, jo, and let me be going; i can't breathe proper in here, you've upset me so bad," he said, holding out his hand with an imperative gesture. "but i ain't got no money of yours, mr. rollins," expostulated the other, stubbornly. "i'm awful sorry if you've gone and lost your roll, and i'd do most anything to help you find it again; but that money belongs to me, and i don't mean to turn it over to nobody. it's goin' to buy a home for me and maw, understand that, sir--your little thatcher place, if so be you'll come to terms; but some other if you won't. that's plain, sir, ain't it?" "what, do you have the nerve to stick to that silly story, after admitting that this wonderfully gotten fortune of yours tallies to the dollar with what has been taken from my house?" demanded mr. rollins, acting as though half tempted to immediately pounce upon the treasure, and take possession, depending on paul and his scouts to back him up if jo showed fight. "i sure do; and i know what i know, mr. rollins!" declared the farmhand, with flashing eyes, as he pushed between the table and the irate farmer; while his little mother wrung her clasped hands, and moaned pitifully to see the strange thing that was happening there under her own roof. it looked for a moment as though there might be some sort of a rumpus; and seth even began to clench his hands as if ready to take a prominent part in the same; but as had happened more than a few times before when the storm clouds gathered over the scouts, paul's wise counsel intervened to prevent actual hostilities. "wait a minute, mr. rollins," he called out. "this thing ought to be easily settled, one way or another. you understand that queer things may happen sometimes, and there is a chance that two sums of money may be almost exactly alike. now, if jo here has inherited a nice little fortune, he ought to be able to prove that to us by showing letters, or some sort of documents. how about that, jo?" to the surprise, and pleasure as well, of the scoutmaster, jo's face immediately expanded into a wide grin, and he nodded his head eagerly. "say, maw, what did you do with that letter we had from the law firm over in indianapolis, tellin' me to come and claim my property, and to bring along something to prove that i was the said jo albion davies mentioned in aunt selina's last will and testament? in the drawer, you mean? all right, i'll get it; and let these gentlemen read the same. and there's squire mcgregor as went up with me to identify me to the lawyers, he'll tell you he saw me get this money from the bank, just before they closed this arternoon. there she is; now read her out loud, young feller." chapter viii "well, of all things!" "all right; i'll be only too glad to do the same," said paul, as he accepted what appeared to be a well thumbed letter from jo. one glance he gave at the same, and then a load seemed to have been lifted somehow from his boyish heart; because, after he had seen how jo davies loved that dear little white-haired mother, he would have felt it keenly did the circumstances make it appear that the young farmhand were guilty of robbing the man who trusted him so fully. so paul read out the letter. there is no need of giving it here, because it was rather long, and written in a very legal-like way, each sentence being enveloped in a ponderous atmosphere. but it was upon the letter-head of a big law firm in indianapolis, and in so many words informed the said jo albion davies that his respected aunt, selina lee davies, had passed out of this life, leaving him her sole heir; and that if he were interested, it would be to his advantage to come to the city as speedily as possible, to claim the little sum that was waiting for him in bank; and to be sure and bring some one along with him who would be able to vouch for his being the party in question. luckily jo had taken squire mcgregor along, who happened to know one of the members of the big law firm; for otherwise the heir might have had some trouble in proving his identity, since he had forgotten to carry even the letter in his pocket, it seemed. but of course after that mr. rollins could not say a word about claiming the tempting display of greenbacks that lay exposed upon the table. jo was already engaged in tenderly gathering them up, as though meaning to secrete his little fortune either on his person, or somewhere else. "looks like i'm clean busted, don't it?" the farmer said, with a sigh, turning toward paul, upon whom he had somehow come to rely in the strangest way possible. "it does seem as though your money has gone in a queer way, sir," replied the young scoutmaster, "but honestly now, i find it hard to believe that a common hobo would be able to find it so quick, if you had it hidden away up in a corner of the garret, and hadn't been there for ten days." jo stopped gathering his fortune together; he had snapped several heavy rubber bands around it, evidently supplied at the city bank when he drew the money. "i wonder, now, could that have anything to do with it," they heard him mutter, as he looked curiously at the farmer. the words were heard by mr. rollins, who, ready to grasp at a floating straw, in his extremity, even as might a drowning man, quickly observed: "what do you mean by saying that, jo? i hope you can give me some sort of hint that will help me find my money again; because i meant to pay off my mortgage with it, and will be hard pushed to make good, if it stays lost." "i'll tell you, sir," said jo, readily. "it was just about a week ago that i'd been to town, you remember, and getting home along about midnight i was worried about one of the hosses that had been actin' sick like. so i walked over here, not wantin' to wait till mornin'. just when i was agoin' back i seen a light movin' around over at the house, and i stopped a minute to watch the same." "yes, go on; a week ago, you say?" the farmer remarked, as jo paused to catch his breath again. "on thursday night it was, mr. rollins," the other went on. "well, just then i saw the back door open, and somebody stepped out. i seen it was you, and about the queerest part of it all was that it looked to me as if you might be walkin' around in your pajamas! do you remember comin' outdoors on that night for anything, sir?" "i don't even remember walking around that way," replied mr. rollins, hastily, and looking as though he did not know whether jo were trying to play some sort of joke on him, or not, "but go on and tell the rest. what did i do? did you stop long enough to see?" "well," continued the farm hand, "i saw you go over to the old dutch oven that hasn't been used this twenty years, and move around there a bit; but it wasn't none of my business, mr. rollins, and so i went along home. i guess any gentleman's got the right to go wanderin' around his own premises in the middle of the night, if he wants to, and nobody ain't got any right to complain because he don't make the trouble to put on his day clothes." the farmer looked helplessly at paul. plainly his wits were in a stupor, and he could not make head or tail of what jo was telling him. "can you get a pointer on to what it all means?" he asked, almost piteously. paul had conceived a wonderful idea that seemed to give great promise of solving the dark puzzle. "you just as much as said that you could not remember having come out of your house that night; and that you never knew yourself to walk around out of doors in your pajamas; is that so, sir?" he asked. "that's what i meant; and if i was put on the stand right now, i could lift my right hand, and take my solemn affidavit that i didn't do any such thing--unless by george! i was walking in my sleep!" "that's just the point i'm trying to get at, mr. rollins," said paul, quietly. "jo, here, says he _saw_ you as plain as anything, and yet you don't recollect doing it. see here, sir, can you ever remember walking in your sleep?" "why, not for a great many years," answered the farmer, somewhat confused, and yet with a new gleam of hope appearing in his expectant eyes. "but you admit then that you _have_ done such a thing?" pursued the scoutmaster. "yes, as a boy i did a heap of queer stunts when asleep. they had to lock my door for a time, and fasten my windows. why, one night they found me sitting on top of the chimney, and had to wait till i took the notion to come down; because, if they woke me, it might mean a nasty tumble that would like as not break my neck. but i haven't done anything in that line for thirty years." "until one night a week ago, mr. rollins," continued paul, convincingly, "when dreaming that your money was in danger, you got out of your bed, went up and took it from the garret where you had it hidden, walked downstairs, passed outside, and stowed it nicely away inside the big old dutch oven. and chances are you'll find it right there this minute." "oh! do you really think so, my boy?" exclaimed the delighted farmer, "then i'm going off right away and find out. if you'll go with me i'll promise to hitch up, and carry the lot of you back to your camp, no matter where that may be." "what say, shall we go, fellows?" asked the patrol leader, turning to the others. there was not one dissenting voice. every boy was just wild to ascertain how this strange mystery would turn out. and as it would be just about as long a walk to alabama camp as going to the farmer's place, they decided the matter without any argument. "and you just bet i'm going along, after what i've heard about this thing," declared jo davies, "maw, you ain't afraid to stay alone a little while longer, be you? you c'n sit on this blessed windfall while i'm gone, but don't go to fingerin' the same, because walls often have eyes as well as ears, remember." when the six scouts started off in company with mr. rollins, jo davies tagged along with them. in his own good fortune the farm hand was only hoping that the money which his employer had missed might be found in the old dutch oven, just like this smart boy scout had suggested. they covered the distance in short order. you would never have believed that those agile lads had been walking for nearly twelve hours that day, if you could see how they got over the ground, even with two of them limping. it can be easily understood that there was more or less speculation among the scouts as they hurried along. would the farmer find his missing wad snugly secreted in the old dutch oven, as paul so confidently suggested? and if such turned out to be the case, wouldn't it prove that the scoutmaster was a wonder at guessing things that were a blank puzzle to everybody else? so they presently came again to the farm. the ashes were still glowing where the big barn had so recently stood. here and there a cow or a horse could be seen, nosing around in the half light, picking at the grass in forbidden corners, and evidently about done with their recent fright. straight toward the back of the house the farmer led the way, and up to the old dutch oven that had been built on to the foundation, for the baking of bread, and all family purposes, many years back; but which had fallen into disuse ever since the new coal range had been placed in the kitchen. everybody fairly held their breath as mr. rollins dropped down on his hands and knees, struck a match, and half disappeared within the huge receptacle. he came backing out almost immediately; and before his head and shoulders appeared in view paul knew that he had made a glorious find, because they could hear him laughing almost hysterically. "just like you said, my boy, it was there!" he cried, holding up what proved to be the missing tin box that held his hoard. "and to think that i stole my own cash while i was asleep! i guess my wife'll have to tie my feet together every night after this, for a while; or perhaps i'll be running away with everything we've got. say, jo, i hope you ain't going to hold it against me that i suspected you'd been and had your morals corrupted by some of them horse jockeys you met at the county fair this summer? and about that thatcher place, jo, we'll easy make terms, because nobody ain't going to have it but you and your maw, hear that?" "well, of all things," exclaimed the delighted seth. jo evidently did not hold the slightest ill feeling against his old friend and employer, for he only too gladly took the hand mr. rollins held out. "turns out just like the fairy story, with everybody happy; only we don't see the princess this time," said seth, after the scouts had given three cheers for jo, and then three more for mr. rollins. "oh!" remarked jo, with a huge grin, "she's comin' along purty soon now; and my gettin' this windfall'll hurry up the weddin' a heap. drop past the thatcher farm along about thanksgivin' time, boys, and i'll be glad to introduce you to her." "say, perhaps we will," seth declared, with boyish enthusiasm, "because, you see, we all live at beverly, which ain't more'n twenty miles away as the crow flies. how about it, fellows?" "we'll come along with you, seth, never fear. and now, the sooner we get over to camp the better, because some of us are feeling pretty well used up," andy went on to admit with charming candor. "all right, boys, just give me a minute to run indoors, and put this package away, and i'll be with you. it won't take long to hitch up, because we managed to save the harness and wagons, me and the missus." true to his word mr. rollins was back in a very brief space of time, and catching the two horses he wanted, he attached them to a big wagon. "tumble in, boys," he called out, as he swung himself up on the driver's seat, after attaching the lighted lantern to the front, so that he could see the road as they went along. the scouts waited for no second invitation, but speedily secured places in the body of the vehicle. as there was half a foot of straw in it, they found things so much to their liking that on the way, at least three of the boys went sound asleep, and had to be aroused when the camp was finally reached. eben and noodles were poor sentinels, it seemed, for both were lying on the ground asleep, nor did they know when the other returned until told about it in the morning. but fortune had been kind to the "babes in the wood," as seth called them in derision, for nothing had happened while the main body of the patrol chanced to be away on duty. and so it was another little adventure had come along, with wonderful results, and the happiest of endings. really, some of the boys were beginning to believe that the strangest of happenings were always lying in wait, as if desirous of ambushing the members of the beaver patrol. why, they could even not start off on a hike, it seemed, without being drawn into a series of events, the like of which seldom if ever befell ordinary lads. during the hours of darkness that followed all of them slept soundly, nor was there any alarm given to disturb them. and as nothing in the wide world brings such satisfaction and contentment as good sleep, when at dawn they awoke to find the last day of the great hike at hand, every fellow declared that he was feeling especially fit to make that concluding dash with a vim. breakfast was hastily eaten; indeed, their stock of provisions had by this time gotten to a low ebb, and would not allow of much variety; though they managed to scrape enough together to satisfy everybody but fritz, who growled a little, and wanted to know however a scout could do his best when on short rations? then to the inspiring notes of eben's silver-plated bugle the boys of the beaver patrol left alabama camp, and started on the last lap for their home goal. chapter ix the runaway balloon "hey! look at all the crows flying over, would you?" seth called this out as he pointed upwards, and the rest of the patrol naturally turned their heads in order to gape. "whew! did you ever see such a flock of the old caw-caws?" burst out eben. "give 'em a toot from your bugle, and see what they think?" suggested jotham. "for goodness sake, be careful," broke in fritz, "because they might be so knocked in a heap at eben's fine playing, they'd take a tumble, and nearly smother the lot of us. we'd think it was raining crow, all right." "are they good to eat?" demanded babe, who was pretty green as yet to a great many things connected with outdoor life, "because, if we have time to stop at noon to cook a meal, we might--" he was interrupted by a shout from several of the other and wiser scouts. "say, hold on there, babe, we haven't got that near being starved as to want to eat crow," declared andy. "can they be eaten at all, paul?" persisted babe, as usual turning to the scoutmaster for information; "seems to me i've heard something like that." "yes, and people who have tried say they're not near as bad a dish as the papers always make out," paul replied. "i don't see myself why they should be, when most of the time they live on the farmer's corn." "but can you tell where that bunch is coming from, and where bound?" continued babe. "they all come out of that same place, and keep chattering as they soar on the wind, which must be some high up there." "well, i've heard it said that there's a big crow rookery somewhere back in the gloomy old black water swamps; but i never met anybody that had ever set eyes on the same. every day, winter and summer, that big flock comes out, and scatters to a lot of feeding grounds; some going down the river, where they pick up food that's been cast ashore; others bound for a meal in the corn fields." "and they come back again in the night to roost there; is that it, paul?" "yes, i guess if we stood right here half an hour before dark we'd see squads of the noisy things heading over yonder from all sorts of quarters. d'ye know, i've sometimes had a notion i'd like to explore the heart of that queer old swamp," and the young patrol leader cast a thoughtful glance toward the quarter from whence that seemingly endless stream of crows flowed continually. "hurrah! that's the ticket!" exclaimed seth. "i've heard a heap about that same spooky old place myself. they say nobody ever has been able to get to the heart of it. and i heard one man, who traps quite a lot of muskrats every winter, tell how he got lost in a part of the swamp once, and spent a couple of pretty tough days and nights wandering around, before he found his way out again. he said it'd take a heap to tempt him to try and poke into the awful center of black water swamps." "but what's that to us, fellers?" ejaculated fritz. "the boys of the beaver patrol ain't the kind to get scared at such a little thing as a swamp. just because it's a tough proposition ought to make us want to take up the game, and win out. we fairly eat hard jobs! and looking back we have a right to feel a little proud of the record we've made, eh, fellers?" of course every scout stood up a little straighter at these words, and smiled with the consciousness that they had, as fritz so aptly put it, a right to feel satisfied with certain things that had happened in the past, and from which they had emerged acknowledged victors. "just put a pin in that, to remember it, paul, won't you?" said andy. "why, sure i will, since a lot of you seem to think it worth while," replied the obliging scoutmaster, with a smile, "and if we haven't anything ahead that seems to be more worth while, we might turn out here later on, prepared to survey a trail right through the swamp. i admit that i'm curious myself to see what lies hidden away in a place where, up to now, no man has ever set a foot." "hurrah for the young explorers!" cried eben, who seemed strangely thrilled at the tempting prospect. they say the boy is father to the man; and among a bunch of six or eight lads it is almost a certainty that you will find one or two who fairly yearn to grow up, and be second livingstones, or stanleys, or dr. kanes. eben had read many books concerning the amazing doings of these pathfinders of civilisation, and doubtless even dreamed his boyish dreams that some fine day he too might make the name of newcomb famous on the pages of history by discovering some hitherto unknown tribe of black dwarfs; or charting out a land that had always been unexplored territory. they looked back many times at the stream of flying crows that continued to issue from that one point beyond the thick woods. and somehow the very prospect of later on trying to accomplish a task that had until then defied all who had attempted it, gave the scouts a pleasing thrill of anticipation. for such is boy nature. strange how things often come about. just at that moment not one of the scouts even dreamed of what was in store for them. how many times the curtain obscures our sight, even when we are on the very threshold of discovery! they tramped along sturdily, until they had covered perhaps two miles since departing from the place where the third night had been spent, and which would go down in the record of the big hike as camp alabama. a couple of the scouts limped perceptibly, but even they declared that as they went on the "kinks" were getting out of their legs, and presently all would be well. the sun shone from a fair sky, though now and then a cloud would pass over his smiling face; but as the day promised to be rather hot none of them were sorry for this. "hope it don't bring a storm along, though," remarked babe, when the matter was under discussion. "well, it's got to be some storm to keep the boys of the beaver patrol from finishing their hike on time," declared seth, grimly. "that's so, seth, you never spoke truer words," added fritz. "i reckon, now, half of beverly will turn out on the green this after noon to see the conquering heroes come home. there's been the biggest crowds around that jeweler's window all week, staring at that handsome cup, and wishing they would have a chance to help win it." "and we'd hate the worst kind to disappoint our friends and folks, wouldn't we, fellers?" eben remarked. somehow both limpers forgot to give way to their weakness, and from that minute on the very thought of the great crowd that would send up a tremendous cheer when the boys in khaki came in sight, was enough to make them walk as though they did not know such a thing as getting tired. "look!" cried fritz, a couple of minutes afterwards, "oh! my stars! what's that big thing rising up behind the tops of the trees over there?" "somebody's barn is blowing away, i guess!" exclaimed eben, in tones that shook with sudden alarm. "mebbe's it's a cyclone acomin', boys. paul, what had we ought to do? it ain't safe to be under trees at such a time, i've heard!" "cyclone, your granny!" jeered seth carpenter, who had very sharp eyes, and was less apt to get "rattled" at the prospect of sudden danger, than the bugler of beverly troop, "why, as sure as you live, i believe it's a balloon, paul!" "what! a real and true balloon?" almost shrieked eben, somewhat relieved at the improved prospect. "you're right, seth," declared the scoutmaster, "it _is_ a balloon, and it looks to me right now as though there's been trouble for the aeronaut. that gas-bag has a tough look to me, just as if it had lost about half of the stuff that keeps it floating! see how it wabbles, will you, fellows, and how low down over the trees it hangs. there, it just grazed that bunch of oaks on the little rise. the next time it'll get caught, and be ripped to pieces!" "paul, do you think that can be a man hanging there?" cried seth. "sometimes it looks to me like it was; and then again the balloon tilts over so much i just can't be sure." "we'll know soon enough," remarked the patrol leader, quietly, "because, as you can see, the runaway balloon is heading this way, full tilt. i wouldn't be surprised if it passed right over our heads." "say, perhaps we might grab hold of some trailing rope, and bring the old thing down?" suggested fritz, looking hastily around him while speaking, as if desirous of being prepared, as a true scout should always make it a point to be, and have his tree picked out, about which he would hastily wind a rope, should he be fortunate enough to get hold of such. "whew! i wouldn't want to be in that feller's shoes," observed eben, as they all stood there in the road, watching the rapidly approaching balloon. "solid ground for me, every time, except when i'm in swimming, or skimming along over the ice in winter!" andy interjected, without once removing his eager eyes from the object that had so suddenly caught their attention. it was a sight calculated to hold the attention of any one, with that badly battered balloon sweeping swiftly along on the wind, and approaching so rapidly. all of them could see that there was a man clinging to the ropes that marked the place where the customary basket should have been; evidently this latter must have been torn away during a collision with the rocks or trees on the top of a ridge with which the ungovernable gas-bag had previously been in contact; and it was a marvel how the aeronaut had been able to cling there. "will it land near here, d'ye think, paul?" asked jotham, round-eyed with wonder, and feeling very sorry for the wretched traveler of the upper air currents, who seemed to be in deadly peril of his life. "i hardly think so," replied the scoutmaster, rapidly measuring distances with his ready eye, and calculating upon the drop of the half collapsed balloon. "but see where the bally old thing's heading, will you?" cried seth, "straight at the place where them crows came out of. say, wouldn't it be awful tough now, if it dropped right down in the heart of black water swamps, where up to now never a human being has set foot, unless some indian did long ago, when the shawnees and sacs and pottawattomies and all that crowd rampaged through this region flat-footed." the scouts stood there, and watched with tense nerves as the drifting balloon drew rapidly closer. now they could plainly see the man. he had secured himself in some way among the broken ropes that had doubtless held the basket in place. yes, and he must have discovered the presence of the little khaki-clad band of boys on the road, for surely he was waving his hand to them wildly now. perhaps he understood that it was a safe thing to appeal to any boy who wore that well known suit; because every one has learned by this time that when a lad takes upon himself the duties and obligations of scoutcraft, he solemnly promises to always help a fellow in distress, when the opportunity comes along; and with most scouts the habit has become so strong that they always keep both eyes open, looking for just such openings. closer and closer came the wrecked air monster. just as one of the boys had said, it seemed about to pass very nearly overhead; and as the man would not be more than sixty or seventy feet above them, possibly he might be able to shout out a message. "keep still! he's calling something down to us!" cried seth, when several of the others had started to chatter at a lively rate. now the balloon was whipping past, going at a pretty good clip. apparently, then, it did not mean to get quite low enough to let them clutch any trailing rope, and endeavor to effect the rescue of the aeronaut. fritz did make an upward leap, and try to lay hold of the only rope that came anywhere near them; but missed it by more than a foot. "accident--badly wrenched leg--follow up, and bring help--anderson, from st. louis--balloon _great republic_--report me as down--will drop in few minutes!" they caught every word, although the man's voice seemed husky, and weak, as if he might have been long exposed and suffering. and as they stood and watched the balloon drift steadily away, lowering all the time, every one of those eight scouts felt moved by a great feeling of pity for the valiant man who had risked his life and was now in such a desperate situation. "there she goes down, fellers!" cried eben, excitedly. "and what d'ye know, the bally old balloon has taken a crazy notion to drop right in the worst part of the black water swamps, where we were just saying nobody had ever been before!" chapter x duty above all things "gee! whiz! that's tough!" fritz gave vent to his overwrought feelings after this boyish fashion; and his words doubtless echoed the thought that was in the mind of every fellow in that little bunch of staring scouts. true enough, the badly damaged balloon had taken a sudden dip downward, as though unable to longer remain afloat, with such a scanty supply of gas aboard; and as seth said, it certainly looked as though it had chosen the very worst place possible to drop--about in the heart of the swamp. "now, why couldn't the old thing have dipped low enough right here for us to grab that trailing rope?" demanded jotham, dejectedly; for he immediately began to feel that all manner of terrible things were in store for the aeronaut, if, as seemed likely, he would be marooned in the unknown morass, with no means of finding his way out, and an injured leg in the bargain to contend with. "hope he didn't come down hard enough to hurt much," remarked andy. "huh! if half we've heard about that place is true, little danger of that," declared seth. "chances are he dropped with a splash into a bed of muck. i only hope he don't get drowned before help comes along!" "help! what sort of help can reach him there?" observed fritz, solemnly; and then once again did those eight scouts exchange uneasy glances. "as soon as we let them know in beverly, why, sure they'll organize some sort of relief expedition. i know a dozen men who'd be only too glad to lend a helping hand to a lost aeronaut," andy went on to say. "wherever do you suppose he came from, paul?" asked eben. "say, didn't you hear him say st. louis?" demanded seth. "better take some of that wax out of your ears, eben." "whee! that's a pretty good ways off, seems to me," the bugler remarked, shaking his head, as though he found the story hard to believe. "why, that's nothing to brag of," seth assured him. "they have big balloon races from st. louis every year, nearly, and the gas-bags drift hundreds of miles across the country. i read about several that landed in new jersey, and one away up in canada won the prize. this one met with trouble before it got many miles on its journey. and he wants us to report that the _great republic_ is down; anderson, he said his name was, didn't he, paul?" "yes, that was it," replied the scoutmaster. paul seemed to be looking unusually grave, and the others realized that he must have something of more than usual importance on his mind. "how about that, paul," broke out fritz, who had been watching the face of the patrol leader, "we're about eighteen miles away from home; and must we wait till we get there to start help out for that poor chap?" "he might die before then," remarked jotham seriously. again a strange silence seemed to brood over the whole patrol. every fellow no doubt was thinking the same thing just then, and yet each boy hated to be the one to put it into words. they had taken so much pride in the big hike that to even suggest giving it up, and just in the supreme moment of victory, as it were, seemed next door to sacrilege, and yet they could not get around the fact that it seemed right up to them to try and save that forlorn aeronaut. his life was imperiled, and scouts are always taught to make sacrifices when they can stretch out a hand to help any one in jeopardy. paul heaved a great sigh. "fellows," he said, solemnly, "i'm going to put it up to you this time, because i feel that the responsibility ought to be shared; and remember majority rules whenever the scoutmaster thinks best to let the troop decide." "all right, paul," muttered seth, dejectedly. "it's only fair that you should saddle some of the responsibility on the rest of the bunch," admitted jotham, hardly a bit more happy looking than seth; for of course every one of them knew what was coming; and could give a pretty good guess as to the consequences. "that's a fact," added fritz, "so out with it, paul. when i've got a bitter dose to swallow i want to hurry, and get it over." "it hurts none of you more than it does me," went on the scoutmaster, firmly, "because i had set my heart on winning that fine trophy; and there'll be a lot of people disappointed this afternoon when we fail to show up, if we do." "sure thing," grunted seth, "i c'n see our friend, freddy rossiter, going around with that sickly grin on his face, telling everybody that he always knew we were a lot of fakirs, and greatly overrated; and that, like as not, even if we did show up we'd a been carried many a mile on some hay-wagon. but go on, paul; let's have the funeral quick, so a feller c'n breathe free again." "i'm going to put a motion, and every scout has a right to vote just as he thinks best. only before you decide, stop and think what it all means, to that poor man as well as ourselves," paul continued. "ready for the motion," mumbled fritz, who looked as though he had lost his very last friend, or was beginning to feel the advance symptoms of sea sickness. "all in favor of changing our plans, and trying to rescue the lost balloonist right now, say yes," the scoutmaster demanded, in as firm a tone as he could muster. a chorus of affirmatives rang out; some of the boys were a little weak in the reply they made, for it came with an awful wrench; but so far as paul could decide the response was unanimous. he smiled then. "i'm proud of you, fellows, yes i am," he declared heartily. "i think i know just what each and every one of you feels, and when you give up a thing you've been setting your minds on so long, and just when it looks as if we had an easy walk-over, i'm sure it does you credit. some of the beverly people may laugh, and make fun when we fail to turn up this afternoon; but believe me, when we do come in, and they learn what's happened, those for whose opinion we care will think all the more of us for doing what we mean to." "hope so," sighed seth, who could not coax any sort of a smile to his forlorn looking face, "but because i talk this way, paul, don't you go and get the notion in your head that if the whole thing depended on me i'd do anything different from what we expect to. there's such a thing as duty that faces every scout who's worthy of the name. for that he must expect to give up a whole lot of things he'd like to do. and you'll find that i can stand it as well as the next feller." "p'raps when they know what happened, the committee'll be willing to give us a chance to make another try next week?" suggested jotham. "good boy, jotham, and a clever idea," cried fritz. somehow the suggestion seemed to give every one a sensation of relief. "i think myself that we'll be given another chance to show what we can do," was what paul remarked. "we can prove that we had the victory about as good as clinched when this unexpected thing came along. and i know mr. sargeant will be pleased to hear that we gave up our chances of winning that trophy because a sudden serious duty confronted us." "then we're going to start right away to try and find the middle of black water swamps--is that the idea, paul?" inquired seth. "that's what it amounts to, it looks like, to me," replied the scoutmaster, as he stood there in the open road, looking long and steadily at the very spot where they had seen the last of the dropping balloon; just as though he might be fixing the locality on his mind for future use. "do we all have to go, paul, or are you going to let several of us tramp along to beverly?" some one asked just then. "that depends on how you feel about it," was the answer the scoutmaster gave. "it won't do any good for a part of the patrol to arrive on time, because, you remember one of the rules of the game is that every member must fulfill the conditions, and make the full hundred miles hike. do you want to go to town, while the rest of us are searching the swamps for the aeronaut, eben?" "i should say not," hastily replied the bugler. "how about you, noodles?" continued paul. "nixey doing; me for der swamps, undt you can put dot in your pipe undt smoke idt," the one addressed replied, for there were times when the scouts, being off duty, could forget that paul was anything other than a chum. "well," the patrol leader went on to say, laughingly, "i'm not going to ask any other fellow, for i see by the looks on your faces that you'd take it as an insult. so, the next thing to settle is where we'd better strike into the place." seth came to the front again. "well, you see, i talked a lot with that feller that got lost in there; and he told a heap of interesting things about the blooming old swamp, also where he always started into the same when trapping. you see, somehow i got a hazy idea in this silly head of mine that some time or other i might want to get a couple of chums to go with me, and try and see what there was in the middle of the black water swamps." "that's good, seth," declared one of his mates, encouragingly. "the smartest thing you ever did, barring none," added jotham. "it's apt to be of more or less use to us right now, and that's a fact," was the way paul put it. "i reckon," andy remarked, looking thoughtfully at seth, "that you could tell right now whether we happened to be near that same place. it would be a great piece of good luck if we could run across the entrance, and the trail your trapper friend made, without going far away from here." "let's see," continued seth, screwing his forehead up into a series of funny wrinkles, as he usually did when trying to look serious or thoughtful, "he told me the path he used lay right under a big sycamore tree that must have been struck by a stray bolt of lightning, some time or other, for all the limbs on the north side had been shaven clean off." "well, i declare!" ejaculated jotham. "then you've noticed such a tree, have you?" asked paul, instantly, recognizing the symptoms, for he had long made a study of each and every scout in the troop, and knew their peculiarities. "look over yonder, will you?" demanded jotham, pointing. immediately various exclamations arose. "that's the same old blasted sycamore he told me about, sure as you're born," declared seth, with a wide grin of satisfaction. "the beaver patrol luck right in the start; didn't i say nothing could hold out against that?" remarked fritz. "come along, paul; let's be heading that way," suggested jotham. in fact, all the scouts seemed anxious to get busy. the first pang of regret over giving up their cherished plan had by this time worn away, and just like boys, they were now fairly wild to be doing the next best thing. they entered heart and soul into things as they came along, whether it happened to be a baseball match; a football scrimmage on the gridiron; the searching for a lost trail in the woods, or answering the call to dinner. and so the whole eight hurried along over the back road, meaning to branch off at the point nearest to the tall sycamore that had been visited by a freak bolt from the thunder clouds, during some storm in years gone by. paul was not joining in the chatter that kept pace with their movements. he realized that he had a serious proposition on his hands just then. if so experienced a man as that muskrat trapper could get lost in black water swamps and stay lost for two whole days, it behooved a party of boys, unfamiliar with such surroundings to be very careful in all they did. but paul had ever been known as a cautious fellow. he seldom acted from impulse except when it became actually necessary, in order to meet some sudden emergency; and then there were few who could do things more quickly than the patrol leader. in a case of this kind, the chances were that they must take unusual precaution against losing their bearings; that is, they must feel that they had a back trail to follow in case forward progress became impossible, or inexpedient. paul had his theory as to the best way to accomplish such a thing; and of course it had to do with "blazing" trees as they went along. in this fashion all chances of making mistakes would be obviated; and if they failed to effect the rescue of the man who had dropped in the heart of the dismal morass at least the eight boys need not share his sad fate. leaving the road they now headed straight for the sycamore that stood as a land mark, and a specimen of the freaks of lightning. no sooner had they reached it than paul's eyes were on the ground. the others heard him give a pleased exclamation, and then say: "it's all right, fellows; because here is a well beaten trail that seems to lead straight in to the place. and now, follow me in single file!" chapter xi the trail in the swamp when the eight scouts found that they were leaving solid ground, and actually getting to where little bogs surrounded them on almost every side, they had a queer feeling. up to now none of them had ever had much experience in passing through a real swamp, because there were no such places nearer to beverly than this one, and eighteen miles is quite too far for boys to walk on ordinary occasions, when seeking fun. they looked around time and again, though none of them dared loiter, and paul, as the leader, was setting a pretty good pace. just behind paul came seth. the scoutmaster had asked him to keep close at his heels, for since seth had acquired more or less of a fund of swamp lore from the man who trapped muskrats for their pelts, in the fall and winter, if any knotty problems came up to be solved the chances were seth would be of more use than any one of the other fellows. evidently they were in for some new and perhaps novel experiences. and there is nothing that pleases the average boy more than to look upon unfamiliar scenes, unless it is to run up against a bit of an adventure. one thing paul had made sure to fetch along with him when taking this big hike, and that was his little camp hatchet. fritz had begged to be allowed to carry his old marlin shotgun, under the plea that they might run across some ferocious animal like a wildcat, or a skunk, and would find a good use for the reliable firearm; but the scoutmaster had set his foot down firmly there. but they would have to make numerous fires while on the way, and a little hatchet was apt to come in very handy. and the feel of it in his belt had given paul his idea about "blazing" the trees just as soon as they no longer had the trapper's path to serve them as a guide against their return. it is a very easy thing to make a trail in this way; only care must always be taken to make the slices, showing the white wood underneath the bark, on that side of the tree most likely to be seen by the returning pilgrim. great loss of time must result if one always had to go behind every tree in order to find the blaze that had been so carefully given, not to mention the chances of becoming confused, and eventually completely turned around. that path twisted and turned in the most amazing and perplexing manner possible. although paul had purposely warned the boys to try and keep tabs of the points of the compass as they passed along, in less than ten minutes after striking the swamp proper it is doubtful whether one of them could have told correctly just where the north lay, if asked suddenly; though by figuring it out, looking at the sun, and all that, they might have replied with a certain amount of accuracy after a while. but then they felt sure paul knew; and somehow or other they had always been in the habit of relying on the scoutmaster to do some of their thinking for them--a bad habit it is, too, for any boys to let themselves fall into, and one that paul often took them to task for. they would cheerfully admit the folly of such a course, and promise to reform, yet on the next occasion it would be the same old story of depending on paul. "path seems to be petering out a heap, paul," remarked seth, when another little time had crept along, and they had penetrated still deeper into the swamp, with a very desolate scene all around them, water surrounding many of the trees that grew there with swollen boles, such as always seems to be the case where they exist in swampy regions. "yes, i was thinking that myself," replied the other; "and it's about time for me to begin using my little hatchet, even if i don't happen to be george washington." "let's stop for a breath, and listen," suggested eben; "who knows now but what we might be nearer where the balloon dropped than we thought. p'raps we could even get an answer if we whooped her up a bit." "how about that, paul?" demanded fritz, who could shout louder perhaps than any other boy in beverly, and often led the hosts as a cheer captain, when exciting games were on with other school teams. "not a bad idea, i should say," was the reply, as the patrol leader nodded his head in approval. "suppose you lead off, fritz, and let it be a concerted yell." accordingly fritz marshaled them all in a line, and gave the word. such an outbreak as followed awoke the sleeping echoes in the swamp, and sent a number of startled birds flying madly away. indeed, jotham noticed a rabbit bounding off among the hummocks of higher ground; and noodles afterwards declared that he had seen the "cutest little pussycat" ambling away; though the others vowed it must have been a skunk, and gave noodles fair warning that if ever he tried to catch such a cunning "pussycat" he would be buried up to the neck until his clothes were fumigated. "don't hear any answer, do you, fellers?" remarked seth, after the echoes had finally died away again. everybody admitted that there seemed to have been no reply to the shout they had sent booming along. "hope we didn't scare him by making such a blooming row," seth went on to say. "i'm bothered more by thinking that he may have been killed, or very badly hurt when the balloon fell down," paul ventured to say. the thought made them all serious again. in imagination they pictured that valiant fellow who had taken his life in his hands in the interest of sport, possibly lying there on the ground senseless, or buried in the slimy mud, which could be seen in so many places all around them. and it was far from a pleasing prospect that confronted those eight scouts, though none of them gave any sign of wanting to back out. "mebbe a blast from my horn would reach him?" suggested eben. "suppose you try it, eh? paul?" fritz remarked. "no harm can come of it, so pitch in eben," the other told the troop bugler. "and put in all the wind you c'n scrape together," added seth. accordingly eben blew a blast that could have been heard fully a mile away. he grew red in the face as he sent out his call; and doubtless such a sweet medley of sounds had never before been heard in that desolate looking place since the time of the ice period. "no use; he don't answer; or if he does, we don't get it," seth observed, in a disappointed tone. "then the only thing for us to do is to go ahead," andy proposed. "paul's getting his bearings again," remarked eben. "i wanted to make dead sure," the scoutmaster observed, with a glow of determination in his eyes. "you see, we tried to note just about where the balloon seemed to fall; and it takes a lot of figuring to keep that spot in your mind all the while you're turning and twisting along this queer trail. but i feel pretty sure of my ground." "huh! wish i did the same," said seth, holding up one of his feet, and showing that he had been in black mud half way to his knee, when he made some sort of bad guess about the footing under him. apparently paul was now ready to once more start out. but they saw him give a quick hack at a tree, and upon looking as they passed they discovered that he had taken quite a slice off the bark, leaving a white space as big as his two hands, and which could easily be seen at some distance off in the direction whither they were bound. that was called a "blaze." if seth thought he was having his troubles, they were slight compared with those that attacked one other member of the little band of would-be rescuers. noodles, besides being a good-natured chap, was more or less awkward. being so very stout had more or less to do with this; and besides, he had a habit of just ambling along in any sort of happy-go-lucky way. now, while this might not be so very bad under ordinary conditions, when there was a decent and level road to be traveled over, it brought about all sorts of unexpected and unwelcome difficulties when they were trying to keep to a narrow and crooked path. twice already had noodles made a slip, and gone in knee-deep, to be dragged out by some of his comrades. and he was glancing around at the gloomy aspect with a look approaching _fear_ in his eyes, just as though he began to think that they were invading a haunted region where respectable scouts had no business to go, even on an errand of mercy. such was the wrought-up condition of his nerves, that when a branch which some one had held back, and then let slip, came in contact with the shins of noodles, he gave out a screech, and began dancing around like mad. "snakes! and as big as your wrist too! i saw 'em!" he called out, forgetting to talk in his usual broken english way, because of his excitement. they had some difficulty in convincing him that it was only a branch that had caressed his ankle, and not a venomous serpent; for noodles confessed that if he dreaded anything on the face of the earth it was just snakes, any kind of crawling varmints, from the common everyday garter species to the big boa constrictor to be seen in the menagerie that came with the annual circus visiting beverly. again and again was paul making good use of his handy little camp hatchet, and seth took note of the manner in which the blazed trail was thus fashioned. it may be all very fine to do things in theory, but there is nothing like a little practical demonstration. and in all likelihood not one of these seven boys but would be fully able to make just such a plain trail, should the necessity ever arise. when one has _seen_ a thing done he can easily remember the manner of doing it; but it is so easy to get directions confused, and make blunders. paul was not hurrying now. a mistake would be apt to cost them dear, and he believed that an ounce of prevention is always better than a pound of cure. if they could avoid going wrong, it did not matter a great deal that they made slow progress. "be sure you're right and then go ahead" was the motto of the famous frontiersman, davy crockett, and paul had long ago taken it as his pattern too. besides, it paid, for any one could see that they were steadily getting in deeper and deeper. the swamp was becoming much wilder now; and it was not hard to realize that a man getting lost here, and losing his head, might, after his bearings were gone, go wandering at haphazard for days, possibly crossing his own trail more than a few times. it seemed a lonesome place. animals they saw none. perhaps there might be deer in the outer portions, but they never came in here. although the scouts saw no evidences that wild-cats lived in the swamp, they could easily picture some such fierce animal crouching in this clump of matted trees or back of that heavy bush, watching their passage with fiery eyes. the scouts found their long staves of considerable use from time to time. had noodles for instance been more adept in the use of the one he carried he might have been saved from a whole lot of trouble. perhaps this might prove to be a valuable lesson to the boy. he could not help but see how smartly the others kept themselves from slipping off the narrow ridge of ground by planting their staves against some convenient stump, or the butt of a tree, anywhere but in the oozy mud. "wait up for me!" noodles would call out every little while, when he fell behind, for he seemed to have a horror lest he might slip into that horrible bed of mud, and be sucked down before his chums could reach him. "it iss nodt fair to leave me so far behindt der rest. how wouldt you feel if you rescued der argonaut, and lose your chump; dell me dot? give eferypody a chance, and--mine gootness, i mighty near proke my pack dot time," for he had come down with a tremendous thump, when his feet slipped out from under him. but as a rule boys are not apt to give a clumsy comrade much sympathy, and hence only rude laughter greeted this fresh mishap on the part of noodles. "nature looked out for you when she saw what an awkward chap you were going to be, noodles," called back fritz. "you're safely padded all right, and don't need to feel worried when you sit down, sudden-like. if it was me, now, there might be some talking, because i'm built more on the jack-knife plan." "oh! what is that?" cried eben, as a strange, blood-curdling sound came from a point ahead of them; just as though some unlucky fellow was being sucked down in the embrace of that slimy mud, and was giving his last shriek for help. as the other scouts had of course heard the same thing, all of the detachment came to a sudden halt, and looking rather apprehensively at one another, they waited to learn if the weird gurgling sound would be repeated, but all was deathly still. chapter xii where no foot has ever trod "now whatever do you suppose made that racket?" demanded seth. "sounded just like a feller getting drowned, and with his mouth half full of water. but i don't believe it could have been a human being, do you, paul?" and eben turned to the one in command of the troop. "no, i don't," returned the scoutmaster, promptly. "more than likely it was some sort of a bird." "a bird make a screechy sound like that?" echoed the doubting eben. "some sort of heron or crane. they make queer noises when they fight, or carry on in a sort of dance. i've read lots of things about cranes that are hard to believe, yet the naturalists stand for the truth of the accounts." paul started off again, as though not dismayed in the slightest by the strange squawk, half human in its way. and his example spurred the others on to follow in his wake, so that once more they were making steady progress. "i wouldn't care so much," grumbled fritz, as he trailed along, "if only i had a gun along. but it's tough luck to be smooching through a place like this, where a sly old cat may be watching you from the branch overhead, and your trusty marlin hanging on the nails at home." "they say you always see plenty of game when you haven't got a gun; and so i guess we'll run across all sorts of things, from bobcats to alligators!" paul went on to remark, whimsically, but there was one scout who chose to take his words seriously, and this was noodles. "what's that about alligators?" he called out from his place at the rear of the little procession. "blease don't dell me now as we shall some reptiles meet up mit pefore we finish dis exblorations. if dere iss one thing i don't like, worser as snakes, dose pe alligators. i would go across der street to avoid dem. you moost some fun pe making when you say dot, paul?" "sure i am, noodles," replied the scoutmaster quickly, "because there are no alligators or crocodiles native to the state of indiana. i believe they have a few lobsters over in indianapolis, but they don't count. but the chances are we will run across some queer things before we get out of this place." "what gets me," remarked jotham, "is the way the thing came on us. why, we'd just about said that we'd like to explore the old swamp, from curiosity if nothing else, when that balloon hove in sight, and settled down where we'd have to push right into the center of the place to find the man who was hanging to the wreck." "well, we had our wish answered on the spot, didn't we?" questioned the patrol leader, "and it came in such a way that we couldn't well back out. so here we are, up to our necks in business." "i only hopes as how we won't pe up to our necks in somedings else pefore long," came a whine from the rear, that made more than one fellow chuckle. a number of times paul stopped, for one reason or another. now it was some little imprint of animal feet that had attracted his attention in the harder mud at the side of the narrow ridge he was following; then again he wanted to listen, and renew his observations. seth was watching him closely. somehow he was reminded of that grizzled old carpenter whom he had observed, when the addition was being put to their house, and who, after measuring a board three blessed times, and picking up his saw, made ready to cut it in twain, when, possessed of an idea that he must not make a miscalculation, laid down his saw, and went to work to measure it for the fourth time! paul was not quite so bad as all that, but he did like to make sure he was right before taking a step that could not be recovered, once it was gone. "there's one thing sure," seth could not help remarking, after he had watched paul for some time, and noted how confident the other seemed with every forward step that was taken. "what might that be, seth?" demanded babe adams, when the other paused. "if that feller i talked with, the one that hunts muskrats around here in the season, had been just half as smart as paul, he never would a lost hisself in the swamps, and come near starving to death." "so say we all of us!" added jotham. "that's as neat a compliment as i ever had paid me, boys; though i hardly think i deserve it, yet. wait and see if we get lost, or not. the proof of the pudding's in the eating of it, you know. talk is cheap and butters no parsnips, they say. i like to _do_ things. but honestly speaking, i believe we're getting through this place pretty smartly." "but she keeps agettin' darker right along, paul?" complained noodles, taking advantage of a brief halt to pick up a stick and start to wiping the dark ooze from the bottom of his trousers. "that only means we're pushing steadily in toward the center; and i'm beginning to lose my fear about getting there. perhaps, after all, it may be an easy thing to put our feet where those of no other white man has ever trod." paul spoke with an assurance that carried the rest along with him. that had ever been one of his strongest points at school in the leadership of the class athletic and outdoor sports team. it was getting more and more difficult for several of the scouts to follow their leader. the narrow ledge had been bad enough, but when it came to passing along slippery logs, with the water all around, and a bath sure to follow the slightest mishap, eben's nerve gave way. "if it's going to keep up like this, paul, you'll have to drop me out, because i just can't do it, and that's a fact!" he wailed, as he clung with both hands and knees to an unusually slippery place, having lost his stick in making a miscalculation when trying to brace himself. one of the other fellows recovered the staff, and then eben was assisted across. paul had been expecting something like this, and was not very much surprised. he felt pretty sure there was another who would welcome an order to stay there on that little patch of firm ground, and wait for the return of the rest. "well, i was just thinking of leaving a rear guard, to protect our line of communications," he proceeded to say, gravely, but with a wink toward seth and fritz, "and as it will be necessary for two to fill the position, i appoint seth and noodles to the honorable post. you will take up your position here, and if anybody tries to pass you by without giving the proper countersign, arrest him on the spot." "which spot, paul?" asked noodles, solemnly. "well, it doesn't matter, so long as you stay here and guard our line of retreat. and boys, keep your eyes on the watch for signals. perhaps we may have to talk with you by smoke signs. so you can amuse yourselves by picking up some wood, and getting ready to start a smoky fire, only don't put a match to it unless we call you." "all right, paul," returned eben, taking it all in deadly earnest, although the other fellows were secretly chuckling among themselves. "and then again, i've got my bully old bugle, in case i want to give you a call. don't worry about noodles; i'll be here to look after him." "the blind leading the blind," muttered seth as he turned his face away. "there, you see now," broke in fritz, "if we only had my gun along, eben here could be a real sentry, and hold a feller up in the right way. watch this second slippery log here, boys. you c'n easy enough push anybody into the slush if he gets gay, and refuses to give the password." then he in turn also followed after paul, leaving the bugler and noodles there, congratulating themselves that they could be doing their full duty by the enterprise without taking any more desperate risks. and then when the six scouts had gone about fifty feet eben was heard wildly shouting after them. "paul, o! paul!" he was bellowing at the top of his voice. "well, what is it?" asked the scoutmaster. "you forgot something," came the answer. "what?" "you didn't give us the password, you know; and how c'n we tell whether any fellers has it right, when we don't even know." paul just turned and walked on, laughing to himself; and those who followed in his footsteps were shaking with inward amusement. either eben had taken the bait, and gorged the hook, or else he was having a little fun with them, no one knew which. however, all of them soon realized that paul had done a clever thing when he thus coaxed the two clumsy members of the patrol to drop out of line, and allow those better fitted for coping with the difficulties of the slippery path to go forward; because it steadily grew worse instead of better, and neither eben nor noodles could have long continued. why, even fritz began to feel timid about pursuing such a treacherous course, and presently he sought information. "don't you think we must be nearly in the heart of the old bog, paul? seems to me we've come a long ways, and when you think that we've got to go back over the same nasty track again, perhaps carrying a wounded man, whew! however we are going to do it, beats me." paul stopped long enough to give a tree a couple of quick upward and downward strokes with that handy little tool of his, and then glance at the resulting gash, as though he wanted to make sure that it could be seen a decent distance off. "well, that's a pretty hard question to answer," he replied, slowly. "in the first place, we don't know whether the man fell into the heart of the black water, or over by the other side. fact is, we haven't come on anything up to now to settle the matter whether he fell at all." "great governor! that _would_ be a joke on us now, wouldn't it, if we made our way all over this beastly place, when there wasn't any aeronaut to help? we'd feel like a bunch of sillies, that's right!" burst out fritz. "but we acted in good faith," paul went on to say, positively. "we weighed the matter, and arrived at the conclusion that he had fallen somewhere in here; and we agreed, _all of us_, mind you, fritz, that it was our duty to make a hunt for mr. anderson. and we're here on the ground, doing our level best." "ain't got another word to say, paul," fritz observed, hastily, "you know best; only i sure hope it don't get any worse than we find it right now. i never did like soft slimy mud. nearly got smothered in it once, when i was only a kid, and somehow it seems to give me the creeps every time i duck my leg in. but go right along; only if you hear me sing out, stop long enough to give me a pull." "we're all bound to help each other, don't forget that, fritz," said seth. "it might just as well be me that'll take a slide, and go squash into that awful mess on the right, or on the left. don't know whether to swim, or wade, if that happens; but see there, you can't find any bottom to the stuff." he thrust his long alpine staff into the mire as far as it could go; and the other scouts shuddered when they saw that so far as appearances went, the soft muck bed really had no bottom. any one so unfortunate as to fall in would surely gradually sink far over his head, unless he were rescued in time, or else had the smartness to effect his own release by seizing hold of a low-hanging branch and gradually drawing his limbs out of the clinging stuff. then they all looked ahead, as though wondering what the prospect might be for a continuance of this perilous trip which had broken up their great hike. "i guess it's about time to make another try with a shout or so, fritz," said paul, instead of giving the order for an advance. "all right, just as you say," returned the other, "we've come quite some distance since we made the last big noise; and if he's weak and wounded, yet able to answer at all, p'raps we might hear him this time. line up here, fellers, and watch my hands now, so's all to break loose together." it was a tremendous volume of sound that welled forth, as fritz waved his hands upward after a fashion that every high school fellow understood; why, seth declared that it could have been heard a mile or more away, and from that part of the swamp half way out in either direction. then they strained their ears to listen for any possible answer. the seconds began to creep past, and disappointment had already commenced to grip hold of their hearts when they started, and looked quickly, eagerly, at one another. "did you hear it?" asked fritz, gasping for breath after his exertions at holding on to that long-drawn school yell. "we sure did--something!" replied jotham, instantly, "but whether that was the balloonist answering, eben or noodles calling out to us, or some wild animal giving tongue, blest if i know." and then, why, of course five pair of eyes were turned on paul for the answer. chapter xiii the oasis in the swamp "was that another fish-eating bird like a crane, paul?" asked seth. "sounded more like a human voice," jotham put in. "and that's what it was, or else we're all pretty much mistaken," was the verdict of the scoutmaster. they turned their eyes toward the quarter from whence the sound had appeared to come; and while some thought it had welled up just in a line with this bunch of bushes, or it might be a leaning tree, still others believed it had come straight up against the breeze. although there might be a few points difference in their guesses, still it was noticeable that on the whole they were pretty uniform, and pointed almost due east from the spot where they stood. "how about the prospect of getting through there?" queried jotham, anxiously. "huh! couldn't be tougher, in my opinion," grumbled seth. "but if you look far enough, boys," remarked paul, "you can see that there seems to be some firmer ground over there." "well, now, you're right about that, paul," interjected fritz, "i was just going to say the same myself. made me think of what an oasis in a desert might look like, though to be sure i never saw one in my life." "solid ground, you mean, eh?" said babe adams, gleefully, "maybe, now, we won't be just tickled to death to feel the same under our trilbies again. this thing of picking your way along a slippery ledge about three inches wide, makes me feel like i'm walking on eggs all the while. once you lose your grip, and souse you go up to your knees, or p'raps your neck, in the nasty dip. solid ground will feel mighty welcome to me." "do we make a bee line for that quarter, paul?" asked andy. "i'd like to see you try it, that's what," jeered seth. "in three shakes of a lamb's tail you'd be swimming in the mud. guess we have to follow one of these crazy little hummocks that run criss-cross through the place, eh, frank?" "yes, you're right about that, seth; but i'm glad to say i think one runs over toward that spot; anyway, here goes to find out." the young scoutmaster made a start while speaking, and the balance of the boys lined out after him. "keep close together, so as to help each other if any trouble comes," was what paul called out over his shoulder. "yes, and for goodness sake don't all get in at once, or we'll be drowned. think what an awful time there'd be in old beverly, if six of her shining lights went and got snuffed out all at once. hey, quit your pushin' there, jotham, you nearly had me overboard that time." "well, i just _had_ to grab something, because one of my legs was in up to the knee. oh! dear, what a fine time we'll have getting all this mud off us," jotham complained, from just behind. but they were making pretty fair progress, all the same; and whenever any of the boys could venture to take their eyes off the faintly marked path they were following, long enough to send a quick look ahead, they saw that the anticipated haven of temporary refuge loomed up closer all the time. at least this was encouraging, and it served to put fresh zeal in those who had begun to almost despair of ever getting across the acre of mud that lay between the spot where they had last shouted, and the promised land. they were a cheery lot, taken as a whole; and what was even better, they believed in passing their enthusiasm along. so one, and then another, called out some encouraging words as the humor seized them. foot by foot, and yard by yard they moved along, paul always cautious about venturing upon unknown ground; but finding a way to gain his end. "here's a little patch of solid ground, and we can rest up for a minute or so," was the welcome announcement that came along the line of toiling scouts, and of course brought out various exclamations of delight. it was indeed a great relief to be able to actually stand upright once more, so as to stretch the cramped muscles in their legs. some of the boys even started to dancing, though seth scorned to do anything like this, and pretended to make all manner of fun of their contortions. "talk about them cranes doing funny stunts when they get together and dance," he remarked, "i guess, now, they haven't got anything on you fellers. why, if anybody happened to see you carryin' on that way he'd sure believe the whole bunch had broke loose from some lunatic asylum. when i dance i like to have some style about it, and not just hop around any old way." so seth took it out in stretching his arms, and rubbing the tired muscles of his legs. it was jotham who made a discovery. in jumping around he had by chance wandered a dozen yards away from the rest, when he was heard to give vent to a cry; and the other boys saw him dart forward, as if to pick something up from the ground. "what is it, jotham?" several cried in an eager chorus; for their nerves had been wrought up to a high tension by all they had gone through, and they felt, as seth aptly expressed it, "like fiddle strings keyed to next door to the snapping point." for answer jotham turned and came toward the rest. he was carrying some object in his hand, and seemed to regard it with considerable interest, as though he felt that he had made an important discovery. as he reached the others he held it up before the scoutmaster; and of course all could see what it was. "a piece of old yellow cloth!" exclaimed seth, in disgust, "say, you made all of us believe that you'd run across something worth while." "how about it, paul?" appealed jotham, turning to the one whom he fancied would be more apt to understand, "don't this tell a story; and ain't it a pretty good clue to run across?" "i should say, yes," replied paul, as he took the article in question in his own hands, and felt of it eagerly, "because, you see, seth, this is really silk, the queer kind they always make balloons out of. and that ought to tell us we're on the right track. so you see it was an important pick-up, and ought to count one point for jotham." "gee whittaker! you don't say?" ejaculated seth, staring with considerable more respect at the foot of dingy yellow stuff which the scoutmaster was holding in his hands. "well, if that's so, then i pass along the honors to jotham. but if a piece of the bally old balloon fell right here, paul, don't that tell us the wreck must a passed over where we're standing now?" "not the least doubt about that," asserted the confident paul, "and i was just looking up to see if i could make out the course it took. because it must have struck the top of a tree, to tear this piece loose." "how about that one over yonder?" suggested fritz, pointing as he spoke. "looks to me like the top was broke some, and i just bet you now that's where the big gas-bag did strike first, when it started to drop in a hurry." "then following the course of the wind, which hasn't changed this last hour, it would be carried on straight east," paul continued, logically. "sure thing," declared seth, "and if you look close now, you'll glimpse where it struck that smaller bunch of trees just ahead, where we're going to land soon. and paul, hadn't we better be trying our luck some more now? guess all the boys must be rested, and if we've just _got_ to do the grand wading act, the sooner we get started the better." "first let's call out again, and see if we get any answer. it would cheer the poor fellow up some, if he happens to be lying there badly hurt; and if he does answer, we'll get our bearings better. hit it up, fritz!" they always turned to fritz when they wanted volume of sound. that appeared to be his specialty, the one thing in which he certainly excelled. of course there was little need of any great noise, now that they had reason to believe the object of their solicitude must be close at hand; but then boys generally have plenty of spare enthusiasm, and when fritz gave the required signal they let out a roar, as usual. "there, that was certainly an answering call!" declared jotham, proudly. "sounded like he said just two words--'help--hurry!'" spoke up babe. somehow the rest seemed to be of about the same opinion, and the thought gave the scouts a strange thrill. was the unfortunate aeronaut slowly bleeding to death, lying there amidst the bushes on that tongue of land? they had given up their dearly cherished plan in order to rescue him, and had undergone considerable in the line of strenuous work, so as to arrive in time, and now that they were so close to the scene of his disaster it would be too bad if they were held back until it was too late to do him any good. "can't we hit it up a little faster, paul?" begged andy, who was rather inclined to be impulsive, because of the warm southern blood that flowed in his veins. they had once more started on, and were really making pretty good progress; but when one gives way to impatience, it may seem that a fair amount of speed is next door to standing still. paul understood the generous impulse that caused the kentucky boy to speak in this strain and while he knew that it was dangerous to attempt any swifter pace than they were then making, still, for once, he bowed to the will of the majority, and began to increase his speed. all went well, for beyond a few minor mishaps they managed to get along. what if one of the scouts did occasionally slip off the wretched footing, and splash into the mud; a helping hand was always ready to do the needful, and the delay could hardly be noticed. "there's the beginning of the firm ground just ahead!" paul presently remarked, thinking to cheer his comrades with the good news. "oh! joy!" breathed jotham, who often used queer expressions, that is, rather odd to hear from a boy. seth was the more natural one of the two when he gave vent to his delight by using the one expressive word: "bully!" in a couple of minutes at this rate they would have reached the place where the slippery trail merged into the more solid ground. perhaps some of the others may not as yet have noticed strange sounds welling up out of the bushes beyond, but paul certainly did, and he was greatly puzzled to account for the same. that singular growling could not be the wind passing through the upper branches of the trees, for one thing. it seemed to paul more like the snarling of an angry domestic cat, several times magnified. for the life of him he could not imagine what a cat would be doing here in the heart of the dreaded black water swamps. surely no hermit could be living in such a dismal and inaccessible place; even a crazy man would never dream of passing over such a terribly slippery ledge in order to get to and from his lonely habitation. but if not a cat, what was making that angry snarling? paul knew next to nothing about balloons, but he felt pretty sure that even the escaping of gas could hardly produce such a sound--it might pass through a rent in the silk with a sharp hiss, but he could plainly catch something more than that. and then his foot struck solid ground; with a sigh of relief he drew himself up, and turned to give a hand to seth, next in line, if it was needed. so they all came ashore, so to speak, and delighted to feel able to stand in a comfortable position once more. no time now for stretching or dancing, with that ugly snarling growing constantly deeper, and more angry in volume. forward was the word, and paul somehow felt glad that they gripped those handy staves, tried and true, with which every scout in course of time becomes quite adept. they would come in good play should there be any necessity for prompt action. "follow me, everybody," said paul, as he started off. "count on us to back you up!" seth declared, from which remark the scoutmaster understood that by now the others must have caught those suspicious sounds, and were trying to figure out what they stood for. it seemed as if with every forward step he took, paul could catch them more and more plainly. nor was the snarling sound alone; now he believed he caught a rustling of dead leaves, and something that might be likened to low muttered words, as though the speaker were being hard pressed, and had little breath to spare. then, as he pushed through the last fringe of bushes that interfered with his view, paul found himself looking upon the cause of all these queer noises. chapter xiv just in the nick of time "holy smoke! look at that, would you?" exclaimed seth, who had been so close on the heels of the scoutmaster that he sighted the struggling objects ahead almost as soon as paul did himself. "it's a big wildcat!" echoed jotham, with a suspicious tremor in his voice. indeed, the animal in question was a sight well calculated to give any one more or less reason to feel a touch of alarm. evidently she must be a mother cat, for a couple of partly grown kittens stood there in plain sight, with every hair on their short backs erected, and their whole appearance indicating that they were "chips off the old block," as seth afterwards declared. the wounded aeronaut sat there with a stick in his grasp. this he was wielding as best he could, to keep the angry animal at a distance, although his efforts were growing pitifully weaker, and only for the coming of the scouts he must have been compelled to throw up the sponge in a short time. evidently the wildcat had come upon him there after he had been dropped amidst the wreckage of his balloon. whether it was her natural hatred for mankind that tempted the savage beast to attack the balloonist, or the scent of fresh blood from some of his scratches, it would be hard to say, possibly both reasons had to do with her action. just how long the scrimmage had been going on paul could only guess; but he did know that the beast must have ripped the clothes partly off the aeronaut's back, and in turn he could see that one of the animal's eyes was partly closed, from a vigorous whack which the desperate man had given with his cudgel, no doubt. paul instantly made straight for the scene of commotion, never so much as hesitating a second. this was one of those emergencies spoken of before now, when the scoutmaster did not allow himself to pause and consider, but acted from impulse only. the man saw him coming, and gave expression to his satisfaction in a weak hurrah. as for the cat, at first it seemed ready to try conclusions with the whole troop of boy scouts, for it turned on paul with the ugliest glare in its yellow eyes he had ever seen. every fellow was shouting vigorously by now, and the volume of sound must have had more or less to do with settling the question. besides, the pair of kittens seemed to have been frightened off with the coming of the scouts, having slid into the friendly bushes. so the mother cat decided that after all she could yield gracefully to superior numbers--seven to one was pretty heavy odds, and those waving staves had an ugly look she did not exactly fancy. but all the same there was nothing inglorious in her retreat; she retired in perfect good order, keeping her face to the foe, and continuing to spit and snarl and growl so long as she remained in sight. several of the scouts were for following her up, and forcing the issue; but a word from paul restrained them. he saw that the animal was furiously angry, and if hard pushed would undoubtedly make things extremely interesting for any number of fellows; flying into their midst, so that they could not well use their sticks, and using her sharp claws to make criss-cross maps across their faces. scratches from the claws of all carnivorous animals are dangerous. blood poisoning is apt to set in, because of the fact that their claws are contaminated from the flesh of such birds or small game as have served them for a previous meal. and just then paul had nothing along with him to prevent the possibility of such a dreadful happening taking place. seth in particular was exceedingly loth to give over. he looked after the vanishing wild cat, and shook his head in bitter disappointment. only for his pride in obeying all orders that came to him from the scoutmaster, seth very likely would have followed the cat, and probably rued his rashness when he had to call for help a minute or so later. meanwhile paul had hurried to the side of the aeronaut, who raised his hand in greeting, while a smile broke over his anxious face. "welcome, my brave boys!" he exclaimed. "i never dreamed that you could ever get to me here, when i saw what a horrible sort of bog i had dropped into. and then, after that savage beast set on me i about gave myself up as lost. she kept walking around me, and growling for a long time before she made a jump. oh! it was a nightmare of a time, i assure you. i've seen some scrapes before in my ballooning experiences, but never one the equal of this. i'm mighty glad to meet you all. but i'll never understand how you found me. after this i'll believe boy scouts can do about anything there is going." well, that was praise enough to make every fellow glow with satisfaction, and feel glad to know he wore the khaki that had won the sincere respect of this daring voyager of the skies. "i hope you're not very badly hurt, mr. anderson?" paul ventured, as he knelt at the side of the other. "i don't believe it's serious, but all the same i'm pretty much crippled after all i've gone through with on this ill-fated trip. but i'm willing to exert myself to the limit in order to get out of this terrible swamp. you can't make a start any too soon to please me." paul drew a long breath. if it had been so difficult for active boys, used to balancing, and doing all sorts of stunts, to cross on those treacherous little hummock paths, how in the wide world were they ever going to get a wounded man out of this place? he only hoped mr. anderson would prove to be the possessor of tenacious will power, as well as a reserve fund of strength; he would certainly have good need of both before he struck solid ground again, once the return journey was begun. "well, while my chums are getting their breath after our little jaunt, suppose you let me look at any cuts you've got, mr. anderson," he suggested, first of all, in a business-like way that quite charmed the aeronaut. "what, you don't mean to tell me that you are something of a doctor as well as a leader of scouts?" he remarked, with evident pleasure, as he started to roll up one of the legs of his trousers, so as to expose his bruised ankle. "i know just a little about medicine, enough to make the other fellows want me to take charge whenever they get hurt. let me introduce my friends, sir." and accordingly paul mentioned his own name, and then in turn that of andy, babe, jotham, seth and fritz; also stating that there were two more in the patrol whom they had left stranded about half way out of the swamp, to be picked up again on the return journey. the pleased aeronaut shook hands heartily with each boy. he was experiencing a delightful revulsion of feeling, for all of a sudden the darkness had given way to broad daylight. paul on his part, after a superficial examination, was glad to find there was really nothing serious the matter. he had feared lest he might find a broken leg or even a few ribs fractured; but nothing of the kind seemed to be the case. it was true that mr. anderson had a lot of black and blue places upon his person, and would doubtless feel pretty sore for some days to come, but really paul could not see why he should not be able to keep company with his rescuers. he seemed to possess an uncommon share of grit; his determined defense against the savage wildcat proved that plainly enough; and on the whole, with what help the scouts might give on occasion, there was a fair chance of his getting out of the swamp inside of an hour or so. "now i'm ready to make a start, if you say the word," paul observed, when perhaps five minutes had passed. the gentleman had been helped to his feet. trying the injured leg, he declared he believed he would be able to get along; even though he did make a wry face at the very moment of saying this. paul endeavored to explain to him what sort of work lay before them, passing along on such insecure footing. "well, i must get in touch with a doctor, and that as speedily as possible," remarked mr. anderson, "and i'll get out of this horrible place if i have to crawl every foot of the way on my hands and knees. but i don't imagine it's going to come to such a pass as that, yet awhile. i'm ready to take my first lesson, paul, if so be you lead the way." already the aeronaut seemed to have taken a great fancy for the young scoutmaster; but then that was only what might be expected. paul had led the relief expedition; and besides, there was something attractive about the boy that always drew people to him. "then please follow directly after me; and seth, you fall in behind mr. anderson, will you?" paul went on to say. "huh! hope you don't mean that the way you say it," grunted seth, with a wide grin, "because, seems to me i've done nothing else but _fall in_ ever since i got on the go. i've investigated nearly every bog along the line, and found 'em all pretty much alike, and not to my likin' one single bit." but all the same, seth felt proud of the fact that the scoutmaster had selected him for the post of honor; for he knew that, coming just behind the wounded balloonist, he would be expected to lend a helping hand at such times as mr. anderson experienced a slip. just the consciousness of responsibility was apt to make seth much more sure-footed than before. it is always so; and wise teachers watch their chances to make boys feel that they are of some consequence. besides, experiences goes a great way and seth, having tested nearly all the muddy stretches along the way, had in a measure learned how to avoid contact with them again. in another minute the boys and mr. anderson were on the move. no doubt, if that savage mother cat and her charges were secretly watching from a leafy covert near by, they must have been heartily gratified because the menacing enemy had seen fit to quit the oasis in the swamp, leaving the remnants of the wrecked balloon to be pawed over by the frolicsome kittens. "i see that you are true scouts, for you have blazed the way as prettily as i ever saw it done, mr. anderson remarked presently. "that was paul's doing," spoke up seth, not in the least jealous. "oh! it's the easiest thing to do that anybody ever tried," declared the scoutmaster without even looking back over his shoulder, for he needed his eyes in front constantly. "so i understand," continued mr. anderson, "but then, it isn't everybody who can be smart enough to do the right thing at the right time." "how do you make out, sir?" asked paul, wishing to change the conversation, for, strange to say, he never liked to hear himself praised, in which he differed very much from the vast majority of boys. "getting along better than i expected, paul," replied the wounded balloonist. "it's only a question of time, then, before we pass out of the swamp," the other went on to say. "and as we've got our trail all laid out, and seth knows the best places to try the mud, i guess we'll make it." he was already thinking deeply and seriously. a sudden wild hope had flashed into paul's brain, and if all went well he meant to put it up to the other scouts after a while. when he looked at his watch he found that it was now just a quarter after ten; and doing some lightning calculating he believed they could be out of the morass, discounting any serious trouble, by another hour. then, supposing it took them forty-five minutes to get mr. anderson to the nearest farm house, even though they had to make a rude stretcher, and carry him, that brought the time to exactly noon. could they really do it, make the eighteen miles that still lay between themselves and the field at beverly, where they were expected to show up some time that day, if they hoped to win the prize? some how the very possibility of being put upon his mettle gave paul a thrill. he had no doubts concerning his own ability to finish the great hike within the specified space of time, before the sun had vanished behind the western horizon, but it was a grave question whether some of the other scouts could accomplish the task. there was eben for instance, never a wonder when it came to running; and then fat noodles would be apt to give out before two-thirds of those eighteen miles had been placed behind them. but if there was a ghost of a chance paul was determined to take advantage of it, and he believed that even the laggards would be keen to make the attempt, once he mentioned the subject to them. and so they kept pushing steadily along, mr. anderson showing wonderful pluck, considering the pain he must be suffering all the while from his numerous bruises and cuts. chapter xv on the home-stretch perhaps they were becoming experts at the game; or it might be that the going back over familiar ground made the job easier, since they could see each slippery place where an accident had happened on the outward trip, and thus grow additionally cautious. be that as it might, they made very few missteps on the return journey. even mr. anderson managed to do himself great credit, and seth did not have to help him up on the narrow ridge more than three or four times; nor were any of his mishaps of a serious nature. in due time, therefore, they came in sight of the place where eben and noodles had been left. their voices must have warned the pair that they were coming, for they could be seen shading their eyes with their hands to shut out the glare of the sun, as they watched the string of figures slowly picking a path through the sea of mud and water. apparently they must have counted an extra form among the muddy group; and just had to give expression to their satisfaction; for noodles yelped excitedly, while eben sent out a series of blasts from his bugle, which, upon examination, seemed to bear some faint earmarks to "lo, the conquering hero comes!" and when they landed at this half-way stage in their tiresome journey, mr. anderson had to be introduced to the remaining members of the beaver patrol. he also insisted on shaking hands with them, as he had done all the others, and letting them know his now exalted opinion about the ability of boy scouts to do wonders, all of which was sweetest music in the ears of the pair who had been cheated out of their share of the honors in the actual rescue party. when the march was resumed--and paul hastened matters as much as he could in reason--noodles and eben insisted on asking many questions as to just how they had found the balloonist. they grew quite excited when they heard about the mother wildcat and her savage little kittens; and even indulged in speculations as to what a great time they would have had defending themselves, had a trio like that paid them a visit. oh! it was certainly wearisome work, keeping up that strained position of the leg muscles so long. paul began to fear that they would never be able to accomplish the other task beyond, for he heard noodles take his regular plunges every little while, and judged that the stout boy must by this time be a sight calculated to make his mother shed tears, if ever she saw him in such a state. but all things must come to an end, and finally seth gave a shout, like unto the glad whoop a wrecked mariner might set up at sight of land ahead. "there's the place where we started in, paul; yes, and i can see that queer tree at the spot the trapper's path ended, and the fun began!" he exclaimed. "bless you, seth, for those comforting words!" called out eben from close to the rear of the procession. "one last little bulge, and then victory for us!" fritz remarked, and if the gladness expressed in his voice could be taken as an index to the feelings of his heart, then the scout must be a happy fellow just then, when the clouds rolled away, to let the sun shine again. of course they made it without any more trouble than noodles giving a last try at the friendly mud, as though wanting to really find out whether it did have any bottom down below or not. and when they took some sticks, and scraped the worst of the sticky mess off his face, noodles promised to be a sight indeed. but paul assured him that they would stop at the first spring they came across, in order to allow him to wash some of the stuff off. "ain't we a nobby looking bunch of scouts now, though?" remarked fritz, as he glanced ruefully down at his muddy uniform; for as a rule the boy had been quite particular with his clothes, having reformed after joining the organization. "it's too bad you were put to such straits to help me," declared mr. anderson, heartily, "and i mean to do everything in my power to keep you from feeling sorry that you gave up all chances of winning that beautiful trophy today. it was a shame, and i regret having been the unfortunate cause of it more than i can tell you." "oh! perhaps there might be a _little_ bit of a chance left to us yet, sir," said paul; at which every one of the other seven scouts pricked up his ears and crowded around. "what d'ye mean, paul, by sayin' that?" demanded seth, his eyes opening wide as they became glued upon those of the scoutmaster, for knowing paul as he did, he understood that the other must have some clever idea in mind. "yes, tell us what the scheme is?" pleaded jotham, who had been really more disappointed of giving up the hike than any of the others; for he knew his mother, and a certain girl jotham thought a good deal of, would be on the grandstand at the baseball grounds, waiting to cheer him as he passed by with his fellow scouts. "it all depends on how long it takes us to get mr. anderson to the nearest farmhouse," paul went on. "why, i remember seeing a house near the road just below where we left it to head for the swamp!" spoke up fritz, eagerly, "and i guess we could carry him there in less'n half an hour if we had to." at that the aeronaut spoke up. "i protest. please don't take me into consideration at all, boys," he hastened to say, "if there's the remotest chance for you to make your race, leave me right here, and start off. i'll find my way to the road, and then a farmhouse, where they'll take me in, and have me looked after. you've done wonders for me as it is, saved my life, i haven't the least doubt; and i'm going to remember it, you can depend, but i wish you'd let me take care of myself from now on." but paul shook his head. he understood the feeling that prompted the gentleman to speak in this vein; but he did not think mr. anderson was as well able to look out for himself as he would have them believe. "we never do things by halves, sir," the scoutmaster said, steadily. "if you can hobble along with one of us on either side to help, we'll go that way; but if it's too much of an effort then i'll show you how smart we are about making a litter out of some of these saplings here on which we'll carry you." mr. anderson looked pleased to hear paul talk in this confident way; but would not listen to such a thing as treating him like a badly wounded man. "give me a shoulder to lean on, and i'm sure i can make it in decent time, boys," he declared. so paul ranged on his right, with sturdy seth closing up on the left, and in this fashion they started out. the road was no great distance away, it will be remembered; and in less than ten minutes they had reached it. then turning toward distant beverly, they commenced to cover the ground they had previously gone over. there was no mistake about the farmhouse, in due time it was reached. their arrival quite excited the little household, for the men had come in from the fields to their midday meal. paul did not want to stop to explain matters; all that could be left to mr. anderson. the odor of dinner did make more than one of the scouts raise his eyebrows, and exchange a suggestive look with another; but they realized that every minute was precious to them now, and that they just could not stay long enough to sit and partake, though the farmer cordially invited them. they did accept a few things to munch at as they walked along; and promised to send word to a certain address which the aeronaut gave them; and in fact paul was to notify a committee by wire that disaster had overtaken the _great republic_, but that the aeronaut was safe, and wished the news to be communicated to his wife at a certain hotel in st. louis. of course all of the boys knew what the new hope that had come to paul amounted to. he had, with his customary carefulness, shown them in black and white figures just the number of miles that still remained uncovered, about eighteen in all, and then they figured out when the sun would be setting at beverly. "six full hours, and then some," seth had declared, with a look of contempt; as though he could see no reason why they should not come in on time easily. "why, of course we c'n do it, and then not half try. now, you'd think i'd be feeling stiff after that crouching work in the swamp. all a mistake. never fitter in my life. i could start on a run right now, and cover some miles without an effort." "well, don't do it, then," advised paul, "you know what happens to the racer who makes too big an effort in the start. get warmed up to your work, and there's a chance to hold out. better be in prime condition for the gruelling finish. that's the advice one of the greatest all-around athletes gives. so we'll start at a fair pace, and later on, if it becomes necessary we'll be able to run some." of course paul was thinking while he said this of the weak links in the chain, no other than eben and noodles. the latter was a wretched runner at best. he could walk fairly well, after a fashion, as his work of the last three days proved; and by judicious management paul hoped to coax noodles along, mile after mile. as they walked they munched the sandwiches provided at the farm house where mr. anderson had been left. thus they killed two birds with one stone, as paul put it--continued to cover a couple of precious miles while securing strength and comfort from the food. whenever a chance occurred noodles would get to work again scraping some more dirt off his garments. fritz often declared the county would prosecute him for leaving so many piles of swamp mud along the pike; but after each and every operation the stout boy declared that he felt in far better trim to continue the journey, and that at least pleased all hands. "i'm beginning to hope, noodles," remarked jotham, "that by the time we get to beverly you'll look half way decent, and not make the girls ashamed to own us as we march through the town to the music of a band, mebbe." "put i don't want to be owned py any girl as i knows; so what differences does idt make, dell me?" was all the satisfaction he got from the other; who was evidently more concerned about the cost of a new suit, all to be earned by his own individual exertions, than anything else. when the first hour had passed, and they found that they had made four miles as near as could be told, some of the scouts were exultant, and loudly declared it was going to be as easy as falling off a log. "a regular picnic, believe me!" declared seth. "like taking candy from the baby!" fritz affirmed. "a walk-over!" was babe's style of expressing his sentiments. "well, it will be that, if we ever get to beverly green before the sun drops out of sight," laughed paul. he was only concerned about noodles, truth to tell, for he knew that eben, while no great athlete, had a reserve fund in his stubborn qualities, and would shut his teeth hard together toward the end, plodding along with grim determination. noodles must be watched, and coddled most carefully, if they hoped to carry him with them over the line in time to claim the glorious trophy. and that was really why paul asked him to walk along with him, so that he could from time to time cheer the other up by a few words of praise that would make him believe he was showing great improvement in his stride. it could be seen by the way his eye lighted up that noodles appreciated this flattery; he had a real jaunty air as he walked on, and even cast an occasional glance of commiseration back at the fellows less highly favored than himself. besides, paul, as a careful manager, wished to husband a certain portion of the other's strength for the last five miles. he knew that must be the sticking time, when probably noodles would declare he could not go another step, and endeavor to drop down beside the road to rest. now paul knew how far being diplomatic went in an affair of this kind. he remembered hearing a story about two gentlemen on a hunting trip up in maine, carrying a couple of air rubber mattresses for sleeping purposes, and wondering how they could get the two guides, one a native, and the other a penobscot indian, to blow them up every night. so during the supper one of them got to comparing the chests of the two men, and exciting their rivalry as to which had the larger lungs. when he had them fully primed he said he had means of testing the matter, and brought out the twin air mattresses. eagerly then the guides lay flat on their stomachs, and at the word started to blow like two-horse power engines. the first test was declared a _tie_; and after that the guides could hardly wait for night to come to try out their lungs against each other. and with this story in his mind the young scoutmaster determined to play the two weak members of the beaver patrol against each other, having in view the benefit that would result from such keen rivalry. first he talked to noodles about eben's awakening talent in the line of pedestrian feats; and soon had the stout boy affirming that he could beat the best efforts of the bugler without more than half trying. then paul found a chance to arouse the ambition of eben in turn, by hinting at what noodles had boasted. thus paul presently had the two lads jealously watching each other. they did not come to any open rupture, because they were good fellows, and fast friends, but did eben happen to take a notion to go up a little in the line in order to speak to one of the others, noodles clung to him like a leech. indeed, paul had to restrain the eager pair more than once, for they were so determined to excel the record, each of the other, that they gave evidences of even wanting to run. by carefully nursing this spirit of emulation and rivalry the patrol leader believed he was assisting the cause, without doing either of his chums the slightest injury. it was a case of simply bringing out all there was in a couple of lads who, as a rule, were prone to give up too easily. and so they kept tramping along the turnpike leading toward home, jollying each other, and every now and then, when resting for a bit, trying to remove some of the dreadful evidences of black mud from their usually natty uniforms and leggins. "p'raps they'll think it the biggest joke going," remarked seth, "when they get on to it that we've been in the black water swamps, and i guess freddy's crowd'll laugh themselves sick, like a lot of ninnies, but just wait till we tell what took us there, and show the card mr. anderson gave us, with his message for st. louis on the back. then it seems to me the laugh will be on them." they took great consolation in remembering what a gallant piece of work they had been enabled to carry out since leaving camp alabama that morning. it would perhaps be carried far and wide in the papers, when mr. anderson's story was told, and reflect new glory on the uplifting tendency of the boy scout movement. people who did not understand what a wonderful lot of good was coming out of teaching growing lads to be able to take care of themselves under any and all conditions, besides being considerate for others, brave in time of danger, and generous toward even their enemies, would have their eyes opened. and so it was a happy and merry parcel of scouts that plodded along the road leading to beverly town that afternoon, as the sun sank lower and lower toward the west. chapter xvi "well done, beaver patrol!" they had struck along the road leading from scranton, and reached the well-known jerusalem pike, of which mention has been frequently made in previous stories of this series. as they passed the stebbens and the swartz farms the scouts gave a cheer that brought a waving of handkerchiefs from the windows of the houses, which were in plain sight of the road. far down in the west the glowing sun was sinking; but paul had calculated well, and he knew that, barring accidents, they could easily make the town before the king of day passed from sight. once they had halted for a few minutes' rest, the last they expected to enjoy, and paul had taken advantage of the opportunity to start a smoky fire; after which he and seth, the signal sender of the patrol, used the latter's blanket to send a series of dense smoke clouds soaring upward at certain intervals. one of the boys who expected to join the second patrol in the early fall, steve slimmons, would be on the lookout for this signal that would announce the coming of the weary column; and when he caught sight of the smoke waves it would be his duty to announce that, after all, the scouts had not fallen down in their brave attempt to win that glorious trophy; but were coming right along, and hoped to be on hand in due time. well, there would be a good many suppers delayed in and around beverly on that night, some of the scouts told each other. they could easily picture the green swarming with people, all watching up the road for the patrol to turn the bend, and come in sight, with unbroken ranks, having fulfilled the conditions of the hike to the letter. there was no longer any need for paul to excite the slumbering ambitions of either eben or noodles. why, after they passed the crossroads where the ruins of the old blacksmith shop lay, in which they had held their first meetings, but which had been mysteriously burned down, some thought by mischievous and envious town boys--after they had gone by this well-known spot, and sighted the scroggins farm beyond, every fellow had actually forgotten such a thing as fatigue. they held themselves up straight, and walked with a springy step that would go far toward indicating that a hundred miles in four days was only play for such seasoned veterans. and now the outlying houses of the home town began to loom up. why, to several of the boys it really seemed as though they must have been away for weeks. they eagerly pointed out various objects that were familiar in their eyes, just as if they had feared the whole map of the town might have been altered since they marched away on their little four day tramp. seth in particular was greatly amused by hearing this kind of talk. he had been away from home so much that the novelty of the sensation of coming back did not appeal to him, as it may have done to eben and jotham for instance. "you fellers," said seth, chuckling while he spoke, "make me think of the little kid that took a notion to run away from home, and wandered around all day. when night came along he just couldn't stand it any longer, and crept home. his folks knew what was up, and they settled on punishing him by not noticing him, or saying a thing about his being gone. the kid tried to ketch the attention of maw, but she was sewing, and kept right along, just like he'd been around all day. then he tried dad; but he read his paper, and smoked his pipe, and never paid the least attention. that boy just couldn't understand it. there he'd been away from home a whole year it seemed to him, since morning, and yet nobody seemed to bother the least bit, or make a fuss over him. and when he couldn't get a rise from anybody, he saw the family pussy sittin' by the fire. 'oh!' he says, says he, 'i see you've still got the same old cat you had when i went away!'" even eben and noodles laughed at that. they knew the joke was on them; but just at that moment both were feeling too happy to take offense at anything. "there's the church steeple!" cried babe. "yes, you're so tall you c'n see things long before the rest of us do," declared jotham, not maliciously, but with the utmost good humor, for he knew that in a very short time now he would see his dear little mother, proudly watching him march past; and perhaps also discover a tiny web of a handkerchief waving from the pretty hand of a certain little girl he knew; and the thought made jotham very happy. "listen! ain't that boys shouting?" demanded seth. "just what it is now," replied andy. "they've got scouts at the bend of the road, and know we're coming." "we've done what we set out to do, fellers!" cried seth, gloatingly. "and the trophy belongs to us; for right now we're in beverly town, and there's the blessed old sun still half an hour high," fritz observed with pardonable pride in his voice. "and think of us getting that balloon man safe out of the black water swamps; yes, and going to the middle of the patch, something that they say nobody ever did before! that's going to be a big feather in our caps, believe me," seth went on to say, as he took a glance down at his stained khaki trousers and leggins. paul gave his little command one last look over, for they were now at the bend, and in another minute would come under the eyes of the dense crowd which, from all the signs that came to his ears, he felt sure had gathered to welcome the marching patrol home again after their long hike. then the curve in the road was reached; a dozen more steps and they turned it, to see the green fairly black with people, who waved their hats and handkerchiefs, and shouted, until it seemed to the proud scouts that the very foundations of the heavens must tremble under the roaring sound. chief henshall was there, together with several of his men, keeping an avenue open along which the khaki-clad boys were to march, to a spot in front of the grand stand, where the generous donor of the trophy, together with a committee of prominent citizens of beverly, waited to receive them. it was perhaps the proudest moment in the lives of those eight boys when paul, replying to the little speech which accompanied the passing of the silver cup, thanked mr. sargeant and the committee for the great interest taken in the formation of beverly troop; and in a few words explained just why he and his comrades came so near being unable to fulfill the obligations governing the hike. when mr. sargeant read aloud the message which the wrecked balloonist was wiring to st. louis, in which he declared that he owed his very life to the daring of the boy scouts, who had penetrated to the very center of the black water swamps in order to rescue him, such a din of cheering as broke out had never been heard in beverly since that never-to-be-forgotten day when the baseball nine came up from behind in the ninth inning, and clinched the victory that gave them the high school championship of the county for that year. but the boys now began to realize that they were, as seth expressed it, "some tired," and they only too willingly allowed their folks to carry them off home, to get washed up, and partake of a good meal. but no matter what each scout may have secretly thought when he sat down to a white tablecloth, with silver, and china, and polished glass around him, he stoutly avowed that nothing could equal the delight of a camp-fire, tin cups and platters, and simple camp fare, flanked by an appetite that was keener than anything ever known at home. this work of four days was likely to long remain the banner achievement of the beaver patrol lads; but the vacation period still held out a few weeks further enjoyment, and it may be readily understood that such wide-awake fellows would be sure to hatch up more or less excitement before the call came to go back to school duties. that this proved to be the case can be understood from the fact that another volume follows this story, bearing the significant title of "the boy scouts' woodcraft lesson; or, proving their mettle in the field." and the young reader who has become interested in the various doings of the scouts belonging to the beaver patrol can find in the pages of that book further accounts of what acting scoutmaster paul prentice and his seven valorous chums started out to accomplish, in order to prove that the education of a boy scout brings out the best there is in him, under any and all conditions. the end -----------------------------------------------------------------------boys' copyrighted books the most attractive and highest class list of copyrighted books for boys ever printed. in this list will be found the works of w. bert foster, capt. ralph bonehill, arthur m. winfield, etc. printed from large clear type, illustrated, bound in a superior quality of cloth. the clint webb series by w. bert foster 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street, chicago -----------------------------------------------------------------------always ask for the donohue complete editions--the best for least money woodcraft for boy scouts and others by owen jones and marcus woodman with a message to boy scouts by sir baden-powell, founder of the boy scouts' movement. one of the essential requirements of the boy scout training is a knowledge of woodcraft. this necessitates a book embracing all the subjects and treating on all the topics that a thorough knowledge of woodcraft implies. this book thoroughly exhausts the subject. it imparts a comprehensive knowledge of woods from fungus growth to the most stately monarch of the forest; it treats of the habits and lairs of all the feathered and furry inhabitants of the woods. shows how to trail wild animals; how to identify birds and beasts by their tracks, calls, etc. tells how to forecast the weather, and in fact treats on every phase of nature with which a boy scout or any woodman or lover of nature should be familiar. the authorship guarantees its authenticity and reliability. indispensable to "boy scouts" and others. printed from large clear type on superior paper. embellished with over 100 thumb nail illustrations taken from life bound in cloth. stamped with unique and appropriate designs in ink. price, 75c postpaid m. a. donohue & co. 701-727 s. dearborn st.--chicago -----------------------------------------------------------------------always ask for the donohue complete editions--the best for least money donohue's plays, dialogs, readings, recitations, etc. a carefully compiled series of books, which includes everything that is fresh, popular and up-to-date. embracing, humorous, sentimental, patriotic, serious, comic, eloquent, pathetic, character and dialect sketches that are always in demand. model series of speakers and dialogs nos. 1 to 14, recitations and dialogs for all occasions, price, 10c each. comic readings and recitations 192 pages all comic and humorous, price, 25c in paper. 50c in cloth. patriotic recitations and readings 192 pages for all patriotic occasions, price, 25c in paper. 50c in cloth. tommy's first speaker over 300 short, simple pieces for little tots. cloth, 50c. tommy's second speaker over 200 serious, quaint pieces for older ones. cloth, 50c. dearborn speaker and dialogs original and selected readings for all purposes with observations for study and practice. cloth, 75c. young folks dialogs and dramas short, pretty, funny for all occasions, paper 25c. cloth, 50c. everybody's speaker and entertainer contains select readings, dialogs and dramas. illustrated. cloth, $1.50 american star speaker and elocutionist complete text on how to recite. 225 selections, 550 pages. cloth $2.00 the above books have been carefully prepared for pupils of all ages, and are especially adopted for the use of schools, churches, lyceums, anniversaries, temperance societies, lodges, in fact, they are indispensable when preparing for _any_ public entertainment. for sale by all book and newsdealers, or will be sent to any address in the united states, canada or mexico, postage paid, on receipt of price, in currency, money order or stamps. m. a. donohue & co. 701-727 s. dearborn street--chicago -----------------------------------------------------------------------transcriber's notes: 1. punctuation has been normalized to contemporary standards. 2. corrections to typographic errors in original: table of contents listed chapter viii on page 17, corrected to 71. p. 11 "samee" to "same" ("but all the same, i want") p. 26 "sup-up" to "sun-up" ("since sun-up") p. 29 "fresk" to "fresh" ("hankering after fresh milk") p. 41 "superflous" to "superfluous" ("superfluous burdens") p. 48 "promises" to "promised" ("promised to be a most fortunate thing") p. 73 "mortagge" to "mortgage" ("meant to pay off my mortgage") p. 79 "befel" to "befell" ("seldom if ever befell ordinary lads") p. 81 "alway" to "always" ("as the papers always make out") p. 85 "trememduous" to "tremendous" ("tremendous cheer") p. 101 "or" to "of" ("habit of relying") p. 112 "susprised" to "surprised" ("not very much surprised") p. 143 "commisseration" to "commiseration" ("glance of commiseration") p. 146 "jersualem" to "jerusalem" ("well-known jerusalem pike") p. 149 "price" to "pride" ("with pardonable pride in his voice") first advertising page ("boys copyrighted books"): "tayne" to "jayne" ("lieut. r. h. jayne.") fourth advertising page ("donohue's plays"): "eveything" to "everything" ("everything that is fresh") note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustration. see 21842-h.htm or 21842-h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/2/1/8/4/21842/21842-h/21842-h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/2/1/8/4/21842/21842-h.zip) the boy scouts of lenox or the hike over big bear mountain by frank v. webster author of "only a farm boy," "ben hardy's flying machine," "the boy from the ranch," etc. illustrated [illustration: they hoisted him to the limb, where he clung watching the next rescue. _page 202._] new york cupples & leon company publishers * * * * * books for boys by frank v. webster 12mo. cloth. illustrated. only a farm boy tom, the telephone boy the boy from the ranch the young treasurer hunter bob, the castaway the young firemen of lakeville the newsboy partners the boy pilot of the lakes the two boy gold miners jack, the runaway comrades of the saddle the boys of bellwood school the high school rivals bob chester's grit airship andy darry, the life saver dick, the bank boy ben hardy's flying machine the boys of the wireless harry watson's high school days the boy scouts of lenox tom taylor at west point cowboy dave the boys of the battleship jack of the pony express cupples & leon co., publishers, new york * * * * * copyright, 1915, by cupples & leon company the boy scouts of lenox printed in u. s. a. contents chapter page i. when the seed took root 1 ii. the man who loved nature 10 iii. a cloud over the oskamp home 20 iv. the defiance of dock phillips 30 v. the black bear patrol 41 vi. setting the trap 48 vii. dock goes from bad to worse 57 viii. signs of trouble ahead 66 ix. no surrender 76 x. ready for the start 84 xi. on the way 91 xii. the first camp-fire 98 xiii. the life that might have been saved 106 xiv. at the foot of big bear mountain 114 xv. not guilty 122 xvi. what to do in a storm 129 xvii. the landslide 137 xviii. camping on the lake shore 145 xix. friends of the deer 153 xx. first aid to the injured 162 xxi. scout grit 171 xxii. the cabin in the woods 180 xxiii. into the great bog 189 xxiv. returning good for evil 198 xxv. when carl came home--conclusion 207 the boy scouts of lenox chapter i when the seed took root "i move we go into it, fellows!" "it strikes me as a cracking good idea, all right, and i'm glad tom stirred us up after he came back from visiting his cousins over in freeport!" "he says they've got a dandy troop, with three full patrols, over there." "no reason, felix, why lenox should be left out in the cold when it comes to boy scout activities. let's keep the ball rolling until it's a sure thing." "i say the same, josh. why, we can count about enough noses for a full patrol right among ourselves. there's tom chesney to begin with; george cooper here, who ought to make a pretty fair scout even if he is always finding fault; carl oskamp, also present, if we can only tear him away from his hobby of raising homing pigeons long enough to study up what scouts have to know; yourself, josh kingsley; and a fellow by the name of felix robbins, which happens to be me." "that's five to begin with; and i might mention billy button; yes, and walter douglass, though i guess he'd take the premium for a tenderfoot, because he knows next to nothing about outdoor life." "but he's willing to learn, because he told me so, josh; and that counts a lot, you know. that makes seven doesn't it? well, to complete the roster of the patrol we might coax horace herkimer crapsey to cast in his lot with us!" the boy named josh laughed uproariously at the suggestion, and his merriment was shared to some extent by the other two, carl oskamp and george cooper. felix shook his head at them disapprovingly. "just go slow there, fellows," he told them. "because horace has always been so afraid of his soft white hands that he wears gloves most of the time isn't any reason why he shouldn't be made to see the error of his ways." "oh! felix means that if only we can coax horace to join, we _might_ reform him!" exclaimed josh, who was a thin and tall boy, with what might be called a hatchet face, typically yankee. "by the same token," chuckled felix in turn, "a few of us might drop some of our bad habits if once we subscribed to the rules of the scouts, because i've read the same in a newspaper. they rub it into fellows who find fault with things instead of being cheerful." "oh! is that so, felix?" burst out george cooper, who took that thrust to himself. "how about others who are lazy, and always wanting to put things off to another day? do those same rules say 'procrastination is the thief of time?'" "well boys," remarked carl oskamp, pouring oil on the troubled water as was his habit, "we've all got our faults, and it might be a good thing if joining the scouts made us change our ways more or less. there comes tom, now, let's get him to tell us something more about the chance for starting a troop in lenox right away." "he said he believed he knew a young man who might consent to act as scout master," observed felix. "it's mr. robert witherspoon, the civil engineer and surveyor." "why, yes, i believe he used to be a scout master in the town he came from!" declared carl. "i hope tom is bringing us some good news right now." "if that look on his face counts for anything, he's going to give us a chance to let out a few cheers," asserted felix, as the fifth boy drew near. it was a friday afternoon near the close of winter when this conversation took place. school was over for the week, and as there was an unmistakable feeling of coming spring in the air the snow on the ground seemed to be in haste to melt and disappear. every now and then one of the boys would be overcome by an irresistible temptation to stoop, gather up enough of the soft clinging snow to make a hard ball, which was thrown with more or less success at some tree or other object. the town of lenox was just one of many in the eastern section of the great united states, and boasted a few thousand inhabitants, some industries, a high school, and various churches. in lenox the boys were no different from those to be found in every like community. they had a baseball club that vied with rival schools in spirited contests, a football organization, and in fact almost every element that might be expected to thrive in the midst of a lively community. there was, however, one thing in which the boys of lenox seemed to have been lacking, and this had been brought home to them when tom chesney came back from his recent visit to freeport, some twenty miles away. somehow the growing fever among boys to organize scout troops had not broken out very early in lenox; but if late in coming it bade fair to make up for lost time by its fierce burning. the boy who now joined the four whose chatter we have just recorded was a healthy looking chap. there was something positive about tom chesney that had always made him a leader with his comrades. at the same time he was never known to assume any airs or to dictate; which was all the more reason why his chums loved him. "what luck, tom?" demanded josh, as soon as the newcomer joined the others. "it's all fixed," was the quick answer given by tom, who evidently did not believe in beating about the bush. "good for you!" cried felix. "then mr. witherspoon is willing to organize the lenox troop of boy scouts, is he, tom?" "he said he would be glad to have a hand in it," replied the other, "his only regret being that as he is often called out of town he might not be able to give the matter all the attention he would like." "that's great news anyhow, tom!" declared josh, beaming with satisfaction. "we've just been figuring things out, and believe we can find eight fellows who would be willing to make up the first patrol." "we would need that many for a starter," commented tom; "because according to the rules he tells me there must be at least one full patrol before a troop can be started. and i'm glad you can figure on enough. it's going to make it a success from the start." "there's yourself to begin with," remarked josh, counting with his fingers; "felix, walter douglass, george here, billy button, horace crapsey, carl and myself, making the eight we need for a patrol." "i'm glad you're all anxious to join," said tom, glancing from one eager face to the other, as they walked slowly down the street in a group. "why, so far as that goes, tom," ventured felix robbins, "most of us are counting the days before we can be wearing our khaki suits and climbing up out of the tenderfoot bunch to that of second-class scout. only carl here seems to be kind of holding back; though none of us can see why he should want to go and leave his old chums in the lurch." at that tom gave carl another look a little more searching than his first. he was immediately struck by the fact that carl did not seem as happy as usual. he and tom had been close chums for years. that fact made tom wonder why the other had not taken him into his confidence, if there was anything wrong. carl must have known that the eyes of his chum were upon him for he flushed, and then looked hastily up. "oh! it isn't that i wouldn't be mighty glad of the chance to go into this thing with the rest of you," he hastened to say; "don't believe that i'm getting tired of my old chums. it isn't that at all. but something has happened to make me think i may be kept so busy that i'd have no time to give to studying up scout laws and attending meetings." "oh! forget it all, carl, and come in with us," urged josh, laying a hand affectionately on the other's shoulder. "if it's anything where we can help, you know as well as you do your own name that there isn't a fellow but would lay himself out to stand back of you. isn't that so, boys?" three other voices instantly joined in to declare that they would only be glad of the opportunity to show carl how much they appreciated him. it always touches a boy to find out how much his chums think of him. there was a suspicious moisture about carl's eyes as he smiled and nodded his head when replying. "that's nice of you, fellows. but after all perhaps i may see my way clear to joining the troop. i hope so, anyway, and i'll try my best to make the riffle. now tom, tell us all mr. witherspoon said." "yes, we want to know what we'd have to do the first thing," added josh, who was about as quick to start things as felix robbins was slow. "i sent off and got a scout manual. it came last night, and i'm soaking up the contents at a great rate." "that was why i saw a light over in your room late last night, was it?" george cooper demanded. "burning the midnight oil. must have been interesting reading, seems to me, josh." "i could hardly tear myself away from the book," responded the other boy. "after to-night i'll loan it to the rest of you, though i guess tom must have got one from mr. witherspoon, for i see something bulging in his pocket." tom laughed at that. "josh," he said, "it's very plain to me that you will make a pretty clever scout, because you've got the habit of observing things down to a fine point. and if you've read as much as you say, of course you know that one of the first things a tenderfoot has to do is to remember to keep his eyes about him, and see things." "yes," added josh, eagerly, "one test is for each boy to stand in front of a store window for just two minutes, making a mental map of the same, and then go off to jot down as many objects as he can remember to have seen there." "that's quite a stunt," remarked felix thoughtfully; "and i reckon the one who can figure out the biggest number of articles goes up head in the class. i must remember and practice that game. it strikes me as worth while." "listen to the row up there, will you?" burst out george cooper just then. "why, that lot of boys seems to be having a snowball fight, don't they? hello! it isn't a battle after all, but they're pelting somebody or other. see how the balls fly like a flock of pigeons from carl's coop!" "it looks like a man they're bombarding!" ejaculated felix. "you're right about that, and an old man in the bargain," added tom as he quickened his steps involuntarily; "i can see that bully tony pollock leading the lot; yes, and the other fellows must be his cronies, wedge mcguffey and asa green." "see the poor old fellow try to dodge the balls!" exclaimed josh. "they're making them like ice too, and i wouldn't put it past that lot to pack a stone in each snowball in the bargain. they'd be equal to anything." "are we going to stand by and see that sport go on, boys?" asked carl as he shut his jaws tight together, and the light of indignation shone in his eyes. "we wouldn't be fit to wear the khaki of scouts if we did, fellows!" cried tom chesney. "come on, and let's give them a taste of their own medicine," and with loud shouts the five comrades started to gather up the snow as they chased pell-mell toward the scene of excitement. chapter ii the man who loved nature "give it to them, boys!" josh was shouting as he started to send his first ball straight at the group of busy tormentors who were showering the helpless old man with their icy balls that must have stung almost as much as so many rocks. he seemed to be lame, for while he tried to advance toward the young rascals waving his stout cane wildly, they had no difficulty in keeping a safe distance off, and continuing the cruel bombardment. the smashing of that ball flung by josh, who was pitcher on the lenox baseball team, and a fine shot, was the first intimation the three tormentors of the old man had that the tables had been turned. "hey! look here what's on to us!" shrilled one of the trio, as he felt the sudden shock caused by the first snowball striking the back of his head. upon that the bully of the town and his two allies were forced to turn and try to defend themselves against this assault from the rear. they fought desperately for a very short time, but their hands were already half frozen, and five against three proved too great odds for their valor. besides, every time josh let fly he managed to land on some part of the person of tony pollock or one of his cronies. and those hard balls when driven by the sturdy arm of the baseball pitcher stung mercilessly. the old man stood and watched, with something like a smile on his face. he seemed to have forgotten all about his own recent predicament in seeing these young rowdies receiving their just dues. if he had not been old and lame possibly he might have insisted on joining in the fray, and adding to the punishment being meted out to the three cowardly boys. once a retreat was begun, it quickly merged into a regular panic. tom stayed to talk to the old man while his comrades pursued the fleeing trio, and peppered them good and hard. when finally they felt that they had amply vindicated their right to be reckoned worthy candidates for scout membership they came back, laughing heartily among themselves, to where tom and the old man were standing. "why, i've seen that old fellow before," josh remarked in a low tone as he and carl, george and felix drew near. "his name is larry henderson, and they say he's something of a hermit, living away up in the woods beyond bear mountain." "sure thing," added felix, instantly; "i've heard my folks talking about him lots of times. he does a little trapping, they say, but spends most of his time studying animated nature. he knows every animal that ever lived on this continent, and the birds and insects too, i reckon. he's as smart as they make 'em, and used to be a college professor some people say, even if he does talk a little rough now." for some reason all of them were feeling more or less interest in the man who walked with a cane. perhaps this arose from the fact that of late they had become enthusiastic over everything connected with woodcraft. and the fact that mr. henderson was acquainted with a thousand secrets about the interesting things to be discovered in the great outdoors appealed strongly to them. "these are my chums, mr. henderson," said tom, when the others came up; and as the name of each one was mentioned the hermit of bear mountain grasped his hand, giving a squeeze that made some of the boys wince. "i'm glad to meet you all," he said, heartily. "it was worth being attacked by that lot of rowdies just to get acquainted with such a fine lot of boys. and i want to say that you gave them all the punishment they deserved. i counted hits until i lost all track of the number." "yes," said felix, with a grin on his freckled face; "they're rubbing many a sore spot right now, i reckon. josh here, who's our star pitcher on the nine, never wasted a single ball. and i could hear the same fairly whistle through the air." "gosh all hemlock! felix," objected the boy mentioned, "you're stretching things pretty wide, aren't you? now i guess the rest of you did your share in the good work, just as much as i." "all the same i'm thankful for your coming to my assistance," said mr. henderson. "my rheumatism kept me from being as spry in dodging their cannonade as i might have been some years ago. and one ball that broke against that tree had a stone inside it, i'm sorry to say. we would have called that unsportsmanlike in my young days." "only the meanest kind of a fellow would descend to such a trick!" exclaimed the indignant josh; "but then tony pollock and his crowd are ready to do anything low-down and crooked. they'll never be able to join our scout troop, after we get it started." "what's that you are saying?" asked the old man, showing sudden interest. "why, you see, sir," explained josh, always ready to do his share of talking if given half a chance, "our chum here, tom chesney, was visiting his cousins over in freeport, and got interested in their scout troop. so we've taken the thing up, and expect to start the ball rolling right away." "it happens," tom went on, "that there is a young man in town who once served as scout master in a troop, and i've just had him promise to come around to-night and tell us what we've got to do to get the necessary charter from scout headquarters." "you interest me very much, boys," said mr. henderson, his eyes sparkling as he spoke. "i have read considerable about the wonderful progress this new movement is making all over the land; and i want to say that i like the principles it advocates. boys have known too little in the past of how to take care of themselves at all times, and also be ready to lend a helping hand to others." "the camping out, and finding all sorts of queer things in the woods is what makes me want to join a troop!" said josh; "because i always did love to fish and hunt, and get off in the mountains away from everybody." "that's a good foundation to start on," remarked the hermit, with kindling eyes, as he looked from one eager face to another; "but i imagine that after you've been a scout for a short time your ideas will begin to change considerably." "how, sir?" asked josh, looking unconvinced. "well," continued the old man, softly, "you'll find such enjoyment in _observing_ the habits of all the little woods folks that by degrees the fierce desire you have now to slay them will grow colder. in the end most of you will consider it ten times better to sit and watch them at their labors or play than to slaughter them in sport, or even to kill them for food." "but mr. henderson," said josh, boldly, "i've heard that you trap animals for their pelts; and i guess you must knock a few over when you feel like having game for dinner, don't you?" "occasionally i go out and get a rabbit or a partridge, though not often," admitted the old man; "and as for my trapping, i only try to take such animals or vermin as are cruel in their nature and seem to be a pest to the innocent things i'm so fond of having around me. i wish you boys could visit my cabin some time or other, and make the acquaintance of my innumerable pets. they look on me as their best friend, and i would never dream of raising a hand to injure them. kindness to animals, i believe, is one of the cardinal principles of a true scout." "yes, sir, that's what it is," responded josh, eagerly. "i've got the whole twelve points of scout law on the tip of my tongue right now. here's what they are: a scout has got to be trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean and reverent." "whew! that's going some!" declared felix, who being prone to put things off to a more convenient season could readily see that he was sure to run up against a good many snags if he tried to keep the scout law. "then you can easily understand," continued mr. henderson, "what a treasure-house the woods is going to be to every observing boy who spends some time there, and becomes interested in seeing all that is going on around him." "i'm sure of that, sir," responded tom, earnestly. "i know for one that i've never paid a quarter of the attention to such things as i ought to have done." "no, you are right there, my lad," the hermit continued, being evidently on a favorite subject, "the average boy can walk through a mile of forest and hardly notice anything around him. in fact, he may even decide that it's only a gloomy place, and outside the cawing of the crows or perhaps an occasional squirrel at which he shies a stone he has heard and seen nothing." "then it's different with a scout, is it, sir?" asked george cooper. "if he has been aroused to take a keen interest in nature the same woods will be alive with interesting things," the other told them. "he will see the shy little denizens peeping curiously out at him from a cover of leaves, and hear their low excited chattering as they tell each other what they think of him. every tree and moss-covered stone and swinging wild grape-vine will tell a story; and afterwards that boy is going to wonder how he ever could have been content to remain in such dense ignorance as he did for years." "mr. henderson do you expect to remain in town over night?" asked tom, suddenly. "why yes, i shall have to stay until to-morrow," came the reply; "i am stopping with my old friend, judge stone. we attended the same red school house on the hill a great many years ago. my stock of provisions ran short sooner than i had counted on, and this compelled me to come down earlier than usual. as a rule i deal over in fairmount, but this time it was more convenient to come here. why do you ask, tom?" "i was wondering whether you could be coaxed to come around to-night, and meet the rest of the boys," the boy told him. "we expect to have a dozen present, and when mr. witherspoon is explaining what a scout must subscribe to in joining a troop, it might influence some of the fellows if you would tell them a few things like those you were just describing to us." the old naturalist looked at the eager faces of the five lads, and a smile came over his own countenance. undoubtedly he was a lover of and believer in boys, no matter whether he had ever had any of his own or not. "i shall be only too pleased to come around, tom; if judge stone can run his car by moonlight. tell me where the meeting is to take place." "the deacons of the church have promised to let us have a room in the basement, which has a stove in it. the meeting will be at eight o'clock, sir," tom informed him. "i hope to be there and listen to what goes on," said the hermit. "and after all i'm not sorry those vicious boys thought to bombard me the way they did, since it has given me the opportunity to get acquainted with such a fine lot of lads. but i see my friend, the judge, coming with his car, and i'll say good-bye to you all for the present." he waved his hand to them as he rode away beside the white-bearded judge, who was one of the most highly respected citizens of lenox. "well, he's a mighty fine sort of an old party, for a fact!" declared george, as they looked after the receding car; nor did he mean the slightest disrespect in speaking in this fashion of the interesting old man they had met in such a strange way. "i'd give something if only i could visit mr. henderson at his cabin," remarked felix; "i reckon he must have a heap of things worth seeing in his collection." "who knows," said tom, cheerily, "but what some good luck might take us up that way one of these fine days." "let's hope so," added josh, as they once more started toward home. chapter iii a cloud over the oskamp home tom and carl walked along together after the other three boys had dropped off at various stages, taking short-cuts for their homes, as supper-time was approaching. "what's gone wrong, carl?" asked tom, as he flung an arm across the shoulders of his closest chum. "i was meaning to tell you about it, tom," explained the other, quickly; "but somehow i kept holding back. it seemed as if i ought to find a way of solving that queer mystery myself. but only this morning i decided to ask you to help me." his words aroused the curiosity of the other boy more than ever. "what's this you're talking about?" he exclaimed. "a mystery is there now, carl? why, i thought it might all be about that coming around so often of mr. amasa culpepper, who not only keeps the grocery store but is a sort of shyster lawyer, and a money lender as well. everybody says he's smitten with your mother, and wants to be a second father to you and your sisters and brothers." "well that used to worry me a whole lot," admitted carl, frankly, "until i asked my mother if she cared any for amasa. she laughed at me, and said that if he was the last man on earth she would never dream of marrying him. in fact, she never expected to stop being john oskamp's widow. so since then i only laugh when i see old amasa coming around and fetching big bouquets of flowers from his garden, which he must hate to pull, he's so miserly." "then what else has cropped up to bother you, carl?" asked tom. the other heaved a long-drawn sigh. "my mother is worried half sick over it!" he explained; "she's hunted every bit of the house over several times; and i've scoured the garden again and again, but we don't seem to be able to locate it at all. it's the queerest thing where it could have disappeared to so suddenly." "yes, but you haven't told me what it is?" remarked tom. "a paper, tom, a most valuable paper that my mother carelessly left on the table in the sitting room day before yesterday." "what kind of a paper was it?" asked tom, who always liked to get at the gist of things in the start. "why, it was a paper that meant considerable to my mother," explained carl. "my father once invested in some shares of oil stock. the certificate of stock was in the safe keeping of amasa culpepper, who had given a receipt for the same, and a promise to hand over the original certificate when this paper was produced." "and you say the receipt disappeared from the table in your sitting room, without anybody knowing what became of it?" asked tom. "yes," replied carl. "this is how it came about. lately we received word that the company had struck some gushers in the way of wells, and that the stock my father had bought for a few cents a share is worth a mint of money now. it was through amasa culpepper my mother first learned about this, and she wrote to the company to find out." "oh! i see," chuckled tom, "and when mr. culpepper learned that there was a chance of your mother becoming rich, his unwelcome attentions became more pronounced than ever; isn't that so, carl?" "i think you're right, tom," said the other boy, but without smiling, for he carried too heavy a load on his mind to feel merry. "you see my mother had hunted up this precious receipt, and had it handy, meaning to go over to mr. culpepper's office in the forenoon and ask for the certificate of stock he has in his safe." "so she laid it on the table, did she?" pursued tom, shaking his head. "don't you think that it was a little careless, carl, in your mother, to do that?" "she can't forgive herself for doing it," replied his chum, sadly. "she says that it just shows how few women have any business qualities about them, and that she misses my father more and more every day that she lives. but none of the other children touched the paper. angus, elsie and dot have told her so straight; and it's a puzzle to know what did become of it." "you spoke of hunting in the garden and around the outside of the house; why should you do that?" "it happened that one of the sitting room windows was open half a foot that day. the weather had grown mild you remember," explained the other. "and you kind of had an idea the paper might have blown out through that open window, was that it?" "it looked like it to me," answered the widow's son, frowning; "but if that was what happened the wind carried it over the fence and far away, because i've not been able to find anything of it." "how long was it between the time your mother laid the paper on the table and the moment she missed it?" continued tom chesney. "just one full hour. she went from the breakfast table and got the paper out of her trunk. then when she had seen the children off to school, and dressed to go out it was gone. she said that was just a quarter to ten." "she's sure of that, is she?" demanded tom. "yes," replied carl, "because the grocer's boy always comes along at just a quarter after nine for his orders, and he had been gone more than twenty minutes." at that the other boy stopped still and looked fixedly at carl. "that grocer's boy is a fellow by the name of dock phillips, isn't he?" was what tom asked, as though with a purpose. "yes," carl replied. "and he works for mr. amasa culpepper, too!" continued tom, placing such a decided emphasis on these words that his companion started and stared in his face. "that's all true enough, tom, but tell me what you mean by saying that in the way you did? what could mr. culpepper have to do with the vanishing of that paper?" "oh! perhaps nothing at all," pursued the other, "but all the same he has more interest in its disappearance than any other person i can think of just now." "because his name was signed at the bottom, you mean, tom?" cried the startled carl. "just what it was," continued tom. "suppose your mother could never produce that receipt, mr. culpepper would be under no necessity of handing over any papers. i don't pretend to know much about such things, and so i can't tell just how he could profit by holding them. but even if he couldn't get them made over in his own name, he might keep your mother from becoming rich unless she agreed to marry him!" carl was so taken aback by this bold statement that he lost his breath for a brief period of time. "but tom, amasa culpepper wasn't in our house that morning?" he objected. "perhaps not, but dock phillips was, and he's a boy i'd hate to trust any further than i could see him," tom agreed. "do you think mr. culpepper could have hired dock to _steal_ the paper?" continued the sorely-puzzled carl. "well, hardly that. if dock took it he did the job on his own responsibility. perhaps he had a chance to glance at the paper and find out what it stood for, and in his cunning way figured that he might hold his employer up for a good sum if he gave him to understand he could produce that receipt." "yes, yes, i'm following you now, go on," implored the deeply interested carl. "here we are at your house, carl; suppose you ask me in. i'd like to find out if dock was left alone in the sitting room for even a minute that morning." "done!" cried the other, vehemently, as he pushed open the white gate, and led the way quickly along the snow-cleaned walk up to the front door. mrs. oskamp was surprised as she stood over the stove in the neat kitchen of her little cottage home when her oldest boy and his chum, tom chesney, whom she liked very much indeed, entered. their manner told her immediately that it was design and not accident that had brought them in together. "i've been telling tom, mother," said carl, after looking around and making certain that none of the other children were within earshot; "and he's struck what promises to be a clue that may explain the mystery we've been worrying over." "i'm pleased to hear you say so, son," the little woman with the rosy cheeks and the bright eyes told carl; "and if i can do anything to assist you please call on me without hesitation, tom." "what we want you to tell us, mother," continued carl, "is how long you left that dock phillips alone in the sitting room when he called for grocery orders on the morning that paper disappeared." mrs. oskamp looked wonderingly at them both. "i don't remember saying anything of that sort to you, carl," she presently remarked, slowly and with a puzzled expression on her pretty plump face. "but you _did_ leave him alone there, didn't you?" the boy persisted, as though something in her manner convinced him that he was on the track of a valuable clue. "well, yes, but it was not for more than two minutes," she replied. "there was a mistake in my last weekly bill, and i wanted dock to take it back to the store with him for correction. then i found i had left it in the pocket of the dress i wore the afternoon before, and so i went upstairs to get it." "two minutes would be plenty of time, wouldn't it, tom?" carl continued, turning on his chum. "he may have stepped up to the table to see what the paper was," tom theorized; "and discovering the name of amasa culpepper signed to it, considered it worth stealing. that may be wronging dock; but he has a bad reputation, you know, mrs. oskamp. my folks say they are surprised at mr. culpepper's employing him; but everybody knows he hates to pay out money, and i suppose he can get dock cheaper than he could most boys." "but what would the boy want to do with that paper?" asked the lady, helplessly. "why, mother," said carl, with a shrug of his shoulders as he looked toward his chum; "don't you see he may have thought he could tell mr. culpepper about it, and offer to hand over, or destroy the paper, for a certain amount of cash." "but that would be very wicked, son!" expostulated mrs. oskamp. "oh well, a little thing like that wouldn't bother tony pollock or dock phillips; and they're both of the same stripe. haven't we hunted high and low for that paper, and wondered where under the sun it could have gone? well, dock got it, i'm as sure now as that my name's carl oskamp. the only question that bothers me now is how can i make him give it up, or tell what he did with it." "if he took it, and has already handed it over to mr. culpepper, there's not a single chance in ten you'll ever see it again," tom asserted; "but we've got one thing in our favor." "i'm glad to hear that, tom," the little lady told him, for she had a great respect for the opinion of her son's chum; "tell us what it is, won't you?" "everybody knows how amasa culpepper is getting more and more stingy every year he lives," tom explained. "he hates to let a dollar go without squeezing it until it squeals, they say. well, if dock holds out for a fairly decent sum i expect amasa will keep putting him off, and try to make him come down in his price. that's our best chance of ever getting the paper back." "tom, i want you to go with me to-night and face dock phillips," said carl. "just as you say; we can look him up on our way to the meeting." chapter iv the defiance of dock phillips remembering his promise, tom called early for his chum. carl lived in a pretty little cottage with his mother, and three other children. there was angus, a little chap of five, dot just three, and elsie well turned seven. everybody liked to visit the oskamp home, there was such an air of contentment and happiness about the entire family, despite the fact that they missed the presence of the one who had long been their guide and protector. tom was an especial favorite with the three youngsters, and they were always ready for a romp with him when he came to spend an evening with his chum. on this occasion however tom did not get inside the house, for carl was on the lookout and hurried out of the door as soon as he heard the gate shut. "hello! seems to me you're in a big hurry to-night," laughed tom, when he saw the other slip out of the house and come down the path to meet him; "what's all the rush about, carl?" "why, you see i knew we meant to drop in at dock phillips' place, and we wouldn't want to be too late at the meeting if we happened to be held up there," was the explanation carl gave. as they hurried along they talked together, and of course much of their conversation was connected with this visit to dock. carl seemed hopeful of good results, but to tell the truth tom had his doubts. in the first place he was a better judge of human nature than his chum, and he knew that the phillips boy was stubborn, as well as vicious. if he were really guilty of having taken the paper he would be likely to deny it vehemently through thick and thin. knowing how apt carl was to become discouraged if things went against him very strongly, tom felt it was his duty to prepare the other for disappointment. "even if dock denies that he ever saw the paper, we mustn't let ourselves feel that this is the end of it, you know, carl," he started to say. "i'll be terribly disappointed, though, tom," admitted the other boy, with a sigh that told how he had lain awake much the last two nights trying to solve the puzzle that seemed to have no answer. "oh! that would only be natural," his chum told him, cheerily; "but you know if we expect to become scouts we must figure out what they would do under the same conditions, and act that way." "that's right, tom," agreed the other, bracing up. "tell me what a true-blue scout would figure out as his line of duty in case he ran up against a snag when his whole heart was set on doing a thing." "he'd just remember that old motto we used to write in our copybooks at school, and take it to heart--'if at first you don't succeed, try, try again!' and carl, a scout would keep on trying right along. he'd set his teeth together as firm as iron and say he'd solve that problem, or know the reason why." "tom, you know how to brace a weak-kneed fellow up all right." "but you're not that kind, carl. only in this case there's so much at stake you hardly do yourself justice. remember how grant went at it, and when he found that lee met all of his tactics so cleverly he got his back up and said he'd fight it out on that line if it took all summer." "i see what you mean, and i'm game enough to say the same thing!" declared the other, with a ring of resolution in his voice. tom felt wonderfully relieved. he knew that carl was capable of great things if only he succeeded in conquering his one little failing of seeing the gloomy side of passing events. "well, here we are at dock's place. it's not a particularly lovely home for any fellow, is it? but then his father is known to be a hard drinker, and the mother finds it a tough job to keep her family in clothes and food. my folks feel sorry for her, and do what they can at times to help her out, though she's too proud to ask for assistance." "dock promises to be as bad as his father, i'm afraid, only so far he hasn't taken to drinking," remarked carl. "there's some hope for him if only he keeps away from that," ventured tom. "but let's knock on the door." no sooner had his knuckles come in contact with the panel than there was a furious barking within. like most poor families the phillips evidently kept several dogs; indeed, dock had always been a great lover of animals, and liked to be strutting along the main street of lenox with a string of dogs tagging at his heels. a harsh voice was heard scolding the dogs, who relapsed into a grumbling and whining state of obedience. "that's dock himself," said carl. "they mind him all right, you see. i hope he opens the door for us, and not his father." just then the phillips door was drawn back. "hello! carl, and you too tom; what's up?" although dock tried to say this with extreme indifference tom saw that he was more or less startled at seeing them. in fact he immediately slipped outside, and closed the door behind him, as though he did not want his mother or any one else to overhear what might be said. this action was positive evidence to the mind of tom chesney that dock was guilty. his fears caused him to act without thinking. at the same time such evidence is never accepted in a court of law as circumstantial. if either of the two boys had ever called at the phillips' house before it must have been on account of some errand, and at the request of their mothers. dock might therefore be filled with curiosity to know why he had been honored with a visit. "we dropped around to have a few words with you, dock," said tom, who had made arrangements with his chum to manage the little interview, and had his plan of campaign all laid out in advance. "oh is that so?" sneered the other, now having had time to recover from the little shock which their sudden appearance had given him. "well, here i am, so hurry up with what you've got to say. i came home late from the store and i'm not done my supper yet." "we'll keep you only a few minutes at the most, dock," continued tom; "you take the orders for groceries for the store, don't you?" "what, me? why, course i do. ain't you seen me a-goin' around with that bob-tail racer of old culpepper's that could make a mile in seventeen minutes if you kept the whip a-waggin' over his back? what if i do take orders; want to leave one with me for a commission, hey?" dock tried to throw all the sarcasm he could into his voice. he had an object no doubt in doing this; which was to impress these two boys as to his contempt for them and their errand, whatever it might be. "we came here in hopes that you might solve a little bit of a mystery that's bothering carl's mother, dock," continued tom. it was pretty dark out there, as the night had settled down, and not much light escaped from the windows close by; still tom thought he saw the other boy move uneasily when he said this. "that's a funny thing for you to say, tom chesney," grumbled the other. "how'd i be able to help mrs. oskamp out, tell me? i ain't much of a hand to figger sums. that's why i hated school, and run away, so i had to go to work. now what you drivin' at anyhow? just tell me that." "day before yesterday you called at mrs. oskamp's house, dock, as you do every morning, to take orders. you always make it about the same time, i understand, which is close to a quarter after nine." "oh! i'm the promptest grocery clerk you ever saw!" boasted dock, perhaps to hide a little confusion, and bolster up his nerve. "after you had gone, or to make it positive at just a quarter to ten mrs. oskamp, who had dressed to go out, missed something that was on the table of the sitting room where you came for orders, and which she says she knows was there when you first arrived!" "what's this you're a-sayin', tom chesney? want to make me out a thief, do you? better go slow about that sort of talk, i tell you!" blustered dock, aggressively. "did mrs. oskamp see me take anything?" "oh! no, certainly not," continued tom; "but she had to go upstairs to get a bill she wanted you to take back to the store for correction, and left you alone in the room for a couple of minutes, that's all." tom was fishing for a "rise," as he would have put it himself, being something of an angler; and he got it too. all unsuspicious of the trap that had been spread for his unwary feet dock gave a harsh laugh, and went on to say angrily: "you have got the greatest nerve i ever heard about, tom chesney, a-comin' here right to my own home, and accusin' me of bein' a reg'lar thief. i wouldn't take a thing for the world. besides, what'd i want with a silly old scrap of paper, tell me?" "oh!" said tom, quietly, "but i never mentioned what it was that was taken. how do you happen to know then it was a paper, dock?" carl gave a gasp of admiration for the clever work of his chum. as for dock, he hardly knew what to say immediately, though after he caught his breath he managed to mutter: "why, there was some papers on the table, i remembered, and i just guessed you must be meanin' that. i tell you i ain't seen no paper, and you can't prove it on me either. i defy you to; so there! now just tell me what you're goin' to do about it." he squared off as though he had a dim idea the two boys might want to lay hands on him and try to drag him around to the police headquarters. of course this was the very last thing tom and carl would think of attempting. strategy alone could influence dock to confess to the truth. "oh! we don't mean to touch you, dock," said tom, hastily. "all we wanted to do was to ask you if you had seen that paper? if you denied it we knew we would have to try and find it another way; because sooner or later the truth is bound to come out, you understand. we'd rather have you on our side than against us, dock." "but what would a feller like me want with your old paper?" snarled the boy, who may not have wholly liked the firm way in which tom said that in the end the real facts must be made known, just as if they meant to get some one accustomed to spying on people to watch him from that time on. "nothing so far as it concerned you," replied tom; "but it was of considerable value to another. your employer, mr. culpepper, might be willing to pay a considerable sum to get possession of that same paper, because it bore his signature." dock gave a disagreeable laugh. "what, that old miser pay any real money out? huh, you don't know him. he squeezes every dollar till it squeals before he lets it go. he'd bargain for the difference of five cents. nobody could do business with him on the square. but i tell you i ain't seen no paper; and that's all i'm a-goin' to say 'bout it. i'm meanin' to let my dogs out for a little air soon's i go back in the house, an' i hopes that you'll close the gate after you when you skip!" there was a veiled threat in his words, and as he proceeded to terminate the interview by passing inside tom and carl thought it good policy to make use of the said gate, for they did not like the manner in which the dogs growled and whined on the other side of the barrier. "he's a tough one, all right," carl was saying as they walked on together, and heard the three dogs barking in the phillips' yard. "yes," admitted his chum, "dock's a hard customer, but not so very smart when you come right down to it. he fell headlong into my trap, which is a very old one with lawyers who wish to coax a man to betray his guilt." "you mean about saying it was a paper that had been lost?" said carl. "yes, you fairly staggered him when you asked him how he knew that." "there's no question about dock's being the guilty one," asserted tom. "he gave himself away the worst kind then. the only thing we have to do is to try and get the truth from him. sooner or later it's got to be found out." "yes," continued carl, dejectedly, "but if he's handed that paper over to mr. culpepper in the meantime, even if we could prove that dock took it what good will that do? once that paper is torn up, we could recover nothing." "but i'm sure he hasn't made his bargain with old amasa yet," tom ventured. "why do you believe that?" asked the other, eagerly. "you heard what he said about the meanness of his employer, didn't you?" was what tom replied. "well, it proves that although dock sounded mr. culpepper about being in a position to give him the paper they haven't arrived at any satisfactory conclusion." "you mean dock wants more than amasa is willing to pay, is that it, tom?" "it looks that way to me," the other boy assented; "and that sort of deadlock may keep on indefinitely. you see, dock is half afraid to carry the deal through, and will keep holding off. perhaps he may even have put so high a price on his find, that every once in a while they'll lock horns and call it a draw." "i hope you've hit on the right solution," sighed carl; "if it didn't do anything else it would give us a chance to think up some other scheme for getting the truth out of dock." "leave it to me, carl; sooner or later we'll find a way to beat him at his own game. if he's got that paper hidden away somewhere we may discover his secret by following him. there are other ways too. it's going to come out all right in the end, you take my word for it!" chapter v the black bear patrol it was a lively scene in the room under the church when the meeting was called to order by mr. witherspoon, the civil engineer and surveyor. a dozen boys were on hand, several having come from curiosity, and meaning to join the scouts later on if they saw reason to believe it would amount to anything. besides the boys there were present judge stone, his friend the hermit-naturalist, larry henderson, and two fathers, who had dropped around to learn whether this new-fangled movement for the rising generation meant that the boys were to be secretly trained for soldiers, as so many people believed. robert witherspoon having once been a scout master knew how to manage a meeting of this sort. after he had called it to order he made a neat little speech, and explained what a wonderful influence for good the organization had been in every community where it had been tested. he read various extracts from the scout manual to show the lofty aims of those who had originated this idea which was taking the world by storm. "the boys have been neglected far too long," he told them; "and it has been decided that if we want a better class of men in the world we must begin work with the boy. it is the province of this scout movement to make duty so pleasant for the average lad that he will be wild to undertake it." in his little talk to the boys mr. witherspoon mentioned the fact that one of the greatest charms of becoming scouts was that growing habit of observing all that went on around them. "when you're in town this may not seem to be much of a thing after all," he had gone on to say; "but in the woods you will find it an ever increasing fascination, as the wonders of nature continue to be unfolded before your eyes. we are fortunate to have with us to-night a gentleman who is known all over the country as a naturalist and lover of the great outdoors. i think it will be worth our while to listen while he tells us something of the charming things to be found in studying nature. mr. henderson i'm going to ask you to take up as much time as you see fit." when tom and carl and some of the other boys did that little favor for mr. larry henderson they were inclined to fancy that he was rather rough in his manner. he had not been talking five minutes however, before they realized that he was a born orator, and could hold an audience spell-bound by his eloquence. he thrilled those boys with the way in which he described the most trivial happening in the lonely wilds. they fairly hung upon his every sentence. "when you first commence to spend some time in the woods, boys," he told them, "it will seem very big and lonesome to you. then as you come to make the acquaintance of br'er 'coon and mr. fox and the frisky chipmunk and all the rest of the denizens, things will take on a different color. in the end you will feel that they are all your very good friends, and nothing could tempt you to injure one of the happy family. "yes, it is true that occasionally i do trap an animal but only when i find it a discordant element in the group. some of them prey upon others, and yet that is no excuse why man should step in and exterminate them all, as he often does just for the sake of a few dollars." this sort of talk roused the enthusiasm of the boys, and when after a while mr. witherspoon put the question as to how many of them felt like immediately signing the roster roll so as to start the first patrol of the intended troop, there was a good deal of excitement shown. first of all tom chesney signed, and immediately after him came carl, felix, josh and george. by the time these five names had appeared josh had slipped his arm through that of walter douglass and brought him up to the table to place his signature on the list. "we need two more to make up the first patrol," announced mr. witherspoon. "unless eight are secured we cannot hope to get our charter from scout headquarters, because that is the minimum number of a troop. i sincerely hope we may be able to make so much progress to-night at this meeting that i can write to-morrow to obtain the necessary authority for acting as your scout master." at that another boy who had been anxiously conferring with his father walked forward. "good for you, billy button!" called out josh. "that makes seven, and we only need one more name. horace, are you going to see this grand scheme fall through for lack of just a single name? your sig would look mighty good to the rest of us at the end of that list." then he ended with an air of assumed dignity, "horace, your country calls you; will it call in vain?" horace herkimer crapsey was the boy who had been spoken of as a dainty dude, who hated to soil his white hands. tom had expressed it as his opinion that if only horace could be coaxed to join the troop it would prove to be the finest thing in the world for him. he had the making of a good scout only for those faults which other boys derided as silly and girlish. he was neat to a painful degree, and that is always looked on as a sort of crime by the average boy. horace evidently had been greatly taken by the combined talk of the scout master and the old hermit-naturalist. to the great delight of josh, as well as most of the other boys, he now stepped forward and placed his name on the list. "that makes eight, and enough for the first patrol," announced mr. witherspoon, with a pleased look; "we can count on an organization now as a certainty. all of you will have to start in as tenderfeet, because so far you have had no experience as scouts; but unless i miss my guess it will be only a short time before a number of you will be applying for the badge of second-class scouts." "that's just what we will, sir!" cried josh, brimming over with enthusiasm. "we cannot elect a patrol leader just now," continued mr. witherspoon, "until there are some of you who are in the second class; but that will come about in good time. but it is of considerable importance what name you would like to give this first patrol of the new lenox troop of boy scouts." there was a conference among the boys, and all sorts of suggestions were evidently being put forward. finally tom chesney seemed to have been delegated as usual to act as spokesman. "mr. chairman," he said, rising from his seat, "my comrades of lenox troop have commissioned me to say they would like to ask mr. henderson to name the first patrol for them. they believe they will be perfectly satisfied with any name he may think best to give them." judge stone smiled, and nodded his head as though he considered this quite a neat little compliment for his good old friend. and the naturalist was also evidently pleased as he got upon his feet. "after all, boys," he told them, "it is a matter of very little consequence what you call this fine patrol. there are a dozen names that suggest themselves. since you have a bear mountain within half a dozen miles of your town suppose you call it the black bear patrol." there was a chorus of approving assents, and it looked as though not a single objection was to be offered. "the black bear is an american institution, you might say," mr. henderson continued, when this point had been settled, "and next to the eagle is recognized as distinctive. from what i have heard said this evening it seems to me also that the boy scouts of america differ from any other branch of the movement in many ways." "above all things," exclaimed mr. witherspoon, "in that there is nothing military about the movement over here. in europe scouts are in one sense soldiers in the making. they all expect to serve the colors some day later on. we do not hold this up before our boys; though never once doubting that in case a great necessity arose every full-fledged scout would stand up for his country's honor and safety." "every time!" exclaimed the impetuous josh. long they lingered there, discussing many things connected with the securing of their uniforms, after the proper time had elapsed. various schemes were suggested whereby each boy could earn enough money to pay for his outfit; because that was one of the important stipulations made in joining a troop, no candidate being allowed to accept help in securing his suit. before the meeting was adjourned it was settled that they were to come together every friday night; and meanwhile each member of the black bear patrol expected to qualify for the grade of second-class scout just as soon as his month of membership as arranged under the bylaws of the order had expired. chapter vi setting the trap "three weeks have gone by since we had that first meeting, tom; just think of it." carl was walking along the river road with his chum when he made this remark. they had seen the last of the snow vanish, and with the coming of milder days all the boys began to talk of going fishing before long. perhaps this saunter of the pair after school may have had something to do with the first contemplated outing of the season, and they wanted to see whether the fish had commenced to come from their winter quarters, though the law would not be off for trout yet awhile. "that's a fact, carl," replied the other boy; "and at our very next meeting most of the members of the patrol are going to get their badges as second-class scouts, because they've already qualified for it to the satisfaction of mr. witherspoon." "honest to goodness i believe there'll be only one tenderfoot left in the lot," carl continued; "and that of course is our dude, horace. he managed to exert himself just enough to fulfill the requirements a tenderfoot has to possess, but there he sticks." "wait a while longer," tom told him, "and one of these fine days you may see horace wake up. i haven't lost hopes of him by a long shot. at our next meeting, after we've passed up, the first thing we have to do is to elect a patrol leader." carl laughed softly. "oh that's all cut and dried, already," he asserted. "well, if it is no one has said anything to me about it," objected tom, at which the other laughed again. "why should they bother when it was seven against one, tom?" argued carl. "why, the boys wouldn't dream of having any other leader than you!" "but that doesn't seem quite fair, it ought to be talked over openly. why pick me out above every one else for that?" "because you've always been a leader among your schoolmates, tom, that's why!" he was quickly, told. "you've got it in you to take the lead in every kind of sport known to boys. baseball, football, hockey, athletics--tell me a single thing where you've had to play second fiddle to any other fellow. and it isn't because you want to push yourself either, but because you can go ahead." "well," said tom, slowly and musingly, "it's mighty nice to know that the other boys like you, and if the fellows are bound to make me take the office of patrol leader i suppose i'll have to accept it." "no one so well able to do the work as you are, tom. but this has been a terribly long three weeks to me, i tell you." "now you're thinking that we haven't made a bit of progress about finding that stolen paper," suggested tom, looking a little crest-fallen. "both of us have tried from time to time to watch dock after nights, but somehow we haven't had much success up to now." "no," added carl, with one of his heavy sighs, "if he has that paper hidden somewhere he's smart enough to keep away from his cache, so far as we've been able to find out." "i don't believe he's come to any settlement with amasa culpepper as yet," tom observed, with considerable positiveness. "we think that, but we don't know for sure," ventured the less confident carl. "if only i could glimpse the paper i'd have a big load lifted from my mind. and it cuts me to the quick to see poor mother trying to look cheerful when i come indoors, though i've noticed signs of tears on her cheeks several times." "i've been thinking of some sort of scheme," began tom, slowly. "good for you!" burst out carl, delightedly. "tell me what it is then; and can we start in to try it right away?" "that depends on several conditions," explained the other. "first of all do you remember what that receipt made out by mr. culpepper looked like, carl?" "do i? why, it seems to me it must have been burned on my memory as though you'd take a red hot poker and make marks on the clean kitchen floor. when i shut my eyes nights and try to go to sleep it keeps dancing in front of me. before i know what i'm doing i find myself grabbing out for it, and then i want to kick myself for being so foolish, when i know it's all just a silly bit of imagination." "i'm glad you remember so well how it looked," remarked tom, somewhat to the mystification of his companion. "what has that got to do with your scheme?" he demanded, in perplexity. "a whole lot," came the swift answer; "because i want you to get me up as close a copy of that receipt as you possibly can!" "whew! do you mean even to signing mr. culpepper's name at the end?" asked carl, whose breath had very nearly been taken away. "yes, even to that," he was told; "in fact the paper wouldn't be worth a pinch of salt in my little game if that signature were omitted. do you think you could duplicate the receipt, carl?" "i am sure i could; but even now i'm groping in the dark, because for the life of me i can't see what you expect to do with it, tom." "don't forget to crease it, to make it look as though it had been folded and opened ever so many times; yes, and soil the outside a little too, as if it had been carried in a boy's pocket along with a lot of other things like marbles or a top or something like that." "but please explain what all this means," carl pleaded. "listen!" replied the other, impressively, "and i'll tell you what my game is. it may work, and it may fall flat; a whole lot depends on circumstances, but there's no harm trying it out." "of course not; go on and tell me." "in watching dock when he didn't know it, we've learned considerable about his habits," continued tom. "for one thing every single night he walks home along the river road here after delivering a package or two at certain houses. it seems to be a part of the programme. well, some fine night we'll lie in wait for him about this spot; and on the road will be that duplicate of the paper which we believe he stole." at that carl became quite excited. "oh! now i see what your game it!" he cried; "and let me tell you i think it's as clever a trick as could be thought of. he'll pick up the paper, thinking it may be something worth while; and when he sees that it is the very receipt he thinks he has got safely hidden away somewhere, dock will be so rattled that the first thing he does will be to hurry to find out whether it's been taken or not." "that's the idea, carl; and of course we'll follow him, so as to jump in the very minute he gets out the real document to compare them." "fine! fine, tom! you are certainly the crackerjack when it comes to laying a trap to trip a scamp up. why, he'll fall into that pit head over heels; and i do hope we can snatch the paper away from him before he has a chance to tear it up." "we'll look out for that all right, you can depend on it," came the reassuring remark from the other scout. "when will you get busy on that copy, carl?" "to-night, after the kids are in bed," carl hastened to reply; "i wouldn't care to have them see what i was doing, though in this case i firmly believe it's all right." "and if your mother wants to know, tell her," said tom. "i'd have to do that anyway," said carl, without the least confusion or hesitation; "i always tell my mother everything that happens. she takes an interest in all my plans, and she's the dearest little mother a boy ever had. but she'll understand that it's only meant to be a trick to catch the thief." "then if you have it ready by to-morrow afternoon we might try how it works that same evening," tom remarked. "i wish the time was now, i'm getting so anxious to do something," sighed the second boy, as he again remembered how he had seen his mother force herself to appear cheerful when he came from school, though there were traces of tears on her cheeks, and her eyes looked red. soon after that the chums separated, as the afternoon was drawing near a close. "i wish you luck with your work to-night, carl," was what tom called out in parting; "and if any one wants to know where we've been, be sure and tell them that so far as we've been able to find out the fishing promises to be mighty fine this spring, better than for years, if signs go for anything." on the following day at noon when they walked home for lunch carl showed his chum the paper. it had been carefully done, and even bore the marks of service in the way of numerous creases, and some soiled spots in the bargain. tom was loud in his praise. "it certainly looks as if it had been carried in a boy's pocket for some time," he declared; "and it's up to you to say how close a copy the contents are to the original." "i'm sure amasa culpepper would say it was his own crabbed handwriting to a fraction," carl had no hesitation in asserting. "and so far as that goes dock phillips isn't capable of discovering any slight difference. if he ever picks this up you mark my words, tom, he's going to get the biggest shock he's felt in many a day." "and you can see how the very first thing he'd be apt to do would be to look around to see if anybody was spying on him, and then hurry away to find if his paper could have been taken from the place where he hid it." "oh! i hope, tom, he doesn't just step over it, and never bother to pick it up." "we've got to take our chance of that happening," he was told; "but we know how nearly every boy would act. besides, scraps of paper have begun to seem worth something in dock's eyes lately. the chances are three to one he'll get it." "well, i'll meet you at just seven o'clock to-night at the old smithy, and we'll lay the trap when we hear his whistle up the road. dock always whistles when he's out after dark. i think it must help him keep his courage up." the church bells had just started to ring seven when the two boys came close to the old blacksmith shop that had been deserted when mr. siebert moved to a better location. they had chosen this spot because it was rather lonely, and there did not seem to be very much chance of their little game being interrupted by any other pedestrian coming along just at the critical time. on one side of the road lay the bushes, in the midst of which the boys expected to hide; on the other could be seen the river. all was quiet around them as the minutes passed away. "there, that's his whistle, tom!" whispered carl, suddenly. thereupon the other scout crept swiftly out upon the road, and placed the folded paper where it could hardly help being seen by any one with ordinary eyesight. he had just returned to the bushes when a figure came hurrying around the bend, whistling vigorously as some boys are in the habit of doing. carl's heart seemed almost to stop beating when he saw dock suddenly halt and bend over. chapter vii dock goes from bad to worse just at that instant, as luck would have it, a vagrant gust of wind, perhaps an advance courier of the prospective storm, swooped down across the road. before the boy who was stooping over could touch the paper that had attracted his attention it was whisked suddenly away. he made an ineffectual effort to seize upon it in the air, but missed it and had to stand there, while the paper floated far out over the river, to fall finally on the moving current. carl quivered with another feeling besides anxiety and suspense; keen disappointment was wringing his heart cruelly. just when their clever little plot seemed on the point of working, a freak of fate had dashed his hopes to the ground. he had the greatest difficulty in suppressing the cry that tried to bubble from between his lips. even tom must have felt bitterly chagrinned when he saw the paper go swirling off, without having had a chance to test its ability to deceive dock phillips, and perhaps lead him into confessing his guilt. the grocer's boy was now walking on again. of course he knew nothing about the character of the elusive paper, save that it had played him a little trick. they could hear him whistling again in his loud way as though he had already forgotten the circumstance. "hang the luck!" complained carl, when he felt that it was safe to let a little of the compressed steam escape through the safety valve of his voice. "that was a rough deal, all right," admitted tom. "who would have dreamed such a blast could sweep down and take that paper off? too bad you had all your work for nothing, carl." "oh! the work didn't amount to much," said the other boy, despondently; "but after hoping for such great things through our plan it's hard to feel that you're up in the air as bad as ever." "we might try it all over again some time, after dock's kind of forgotten about this happening," suggested tom. "but if he kept on seeing loose papers every little while he might get suspicious about it. perhaps we can think up another plan that will have the earmarks of success about it." "i never thought the river would play me such a trick," said carl, looking out on the moving water; "up to now i've had a sort of friendly feeling for the old stream, but after this i'll be apt to look on it as an unprincipled foe." "oh! i wouldn't say that," urged tom, always practical; "the river wasn't to blame at all. and that gust of wind would have come whether we thought to place our bait on the road or not. i'd call it a piece of hard luck, and let it go at that." "we couldn't do anything, tom, now our paper's gone off on the current?" "oh well," replied the other purposely allowing himself to grow humorous so as to cause carl to forget the keen bitterness of his disappointment; "perhaps if we went fishing to-morrow below here we might take the trout that would have your paper tucked away in his little tummy." "that's right, tom," the other added; "we've read some thrilling yarns about jewels being recovered that way; and i remember that even a gold watch was said to have been found, still running inside a fish after many moons." "yes, they tried to explain that phenomenon in a lot of ways, but i guess it must have been meant for a joke, just as my idea was." "it's all over for to-night then?" "yes, let's go home," replied tom. "we have lots to talk over and do, too. before long the exams will be coming on, and we want to pass with honors if we expect to enjoy our vacation this summer." "and it's pretty nearly decided i hear, that the black bear patrol takes a long hike the first thing after school closes," carl was saying, as they started down the river road into lenox. "ten days in camp or knocking about will do more to make us seasoned scouts than as many months at home," ventured tom, knowingly. "all the difference between theory and practice you mean," added carl. "on my own part i don't care how soon we get started. i've a whole lot of things written down to be attended to, once we get away from civilization. that long list mr. witherspoon gave me i've made up a name for." "what is it, then?" asked tom. "things for a tenderfoot scout to look for on his first visit to the storehouse of nature. what do you think of the title, tom?" "a pretty long one, it strikes me," answered the other; "but it covers the ground. every one of us must have a copy, and it'll be a lot of fun to find out who'll be the first to answer all those questions." "one thing i hope will happen before we start out on that hike," said carl. "of course you're referring to that paper again, and i don't blame you a bit. we'll do our level best to get hold of it before then," and trying as well as he knew how to buoy up the drooping spirits of the disappointed chum tom locked arms with him, and in this fashion they walked home. the days again drifted along into weeks. scout matters were looking up decidedly in lenox. there was even some talk of a second rival organization among another set of boys, though mr. witherspoon gave it as his opinion that nothing could ever be done with such a wild crowd. "there isn't a single one among them, from what i hear and know, who could comply with the requirements every scout is expected to have as an asset when he makes application," was the way he put it. "those boys couldn't subscribe to any of the rules which govern scouts in their daily life. they'd have to turn over a new leaf for a fact before they could don the khaki." "and," said josh kingsley, "when such tough fellows as tony pollock, asa green, wedge mcguffey and dock phillips start to turning leaves you can begin to see angel wings sprouting back of their shoulder blades." there were already five boys who had given in their names to make up a second patrol. when it was filled they meant to join the troop, and qualify for a better standing than greenhorns or tenderfeet. larry henderson had long since gone back to his wilderness home beyond bear mountain. twice had tom received a letter from the old naturalist, in which he asked a great many questions, all concerning the boys of lenox, in whom he had not lost interest, and what progress the new troop was making. he also expressed a hearty wish that should they ever take a trip through the section of country where he lived they would not neglect to look him up in his cabin. one thing tom and carl had noticed of late, and this was that dock phillips had taken to going with that tough crowd again. for a while his work in the grocery store had tired him so much each day that when evening came he had been content to go to his home, eat his supper, and then crawl in between the sheets. once more dock was to be seen hanging around the street corners late at night with that group of rowdies that gave the uniformed force so much trouble. some of them only escaped arrest on numerous occasions because their fathers happened to be local politicians whom the police did not wish to offend. tom and carl talked this fact over and arrived at a conclusion, which may, and again may not, have been the true explanation. "dock's getting tired of holding down his job," tom had said, "he's been out of school so long now that he can't be sent back; and he doesn't like hard work either. since his father signed the pledge he's been working steadily enough, and perhaps dock gets into trouble at home because of his temper." "i happen to know he does for a fact," assented carl. "he's been acting hateful, staying out up to midnight every night, and his father has threatened to pitch him out. i rather think he's lazy, and wants to loaf." "perhaps he thinks that he ought to be drawing a regular salary because of that paper he's got hidden away, and which is worth so much to amasa culpepper, as well as to you. to keep him quiet it may be, the old man is paying him a few dollars every week on the sly, even though he refuses to come down with a big lump sum." "tom, would it be right for me to have another talk with dock, and make him an offer?" ventured carl, hesitatingly. "do you mean try to find out what the sum is he asked amasa to pay him?" questioned tom; "and agree to hand it over to him just as soon as the stock of the oil well company can be sold, after your mother gets it again?" "yes, like that. would it be wrong in me? anything like compounding a felony?" carl continued. "i don't see how that could be wrong," the other boy answered, after stopping to think it all over. "you have a right to offer a reward and no questions asked for the return of your own lost or stolen property." "then i'd like to try it before we settle on leaving town, tom." "it would do no harm, i should think," his chum advised him. "the only danger i can see would be if dock took the alarm and went to mr. culpepper, to tell him you were trying to outbid him for the possession of the paper." "that would be apt to make him come to time with a jump, wouldn't it?" said carl. "unless he got it into his head that dock was only trying to frighten him into meeting the stiff price at which he held the paper," said tom. "he might make out that he didn't care a pin, with the idea of forcing dock to come down." "yes, because he would believe dock wouldn't dare put his neck in the noose by confessing to us he had stolen the paper. then would you advise me to try the plan i spoke of?" "if you get a good chance i should say yes." that was on a wednesday afternoon, and carl went home, his head filled with a programme he had laid out that concerned the cornering of dock phillips. on thursday he learned, when home for lunch, that a new boy had come for orders from the grocery. carl was immediately filled with alarm. in imagination he could see dock and mr. culpepper coming to terms at last. after school that afternoon he waited for tom, to whom the startling news was disclosed. the stunning effect of it did not seem to affect tom's quick acting mind. "let's find out just what's happened," he remarked. "perhaps over at joslyn's, next door to the phillips's, we might pick up a clue." "yes, and i know mrs. joslyn right well in the bargain," said carl, showing interest at once. "i'm sure that if i told her as a secret just why we wanted to know about dock she'd tell me if anything had happened there lately." to the joslyn house the two boys went. mrs. joslyn was an energetic little woman, and said to be able to mind her own business. she listened with growing eagerness to the story, and at its conclusion said: "i'm sorry for your mother, carl, and i don't know that i can help you any; but there was something strange that happened at the phillips' house last night." chapter viii signs of trouble ahead "was it about dock?" asked carl, eagerly, while tom could see that the color had left his face all of a sudden. "yes," continued mrs. joslyn, "dock seems to have fallen into the habit of staying out until midnight, with some of those young fellows who loaf on the corners and get into every kind of mischief they can think up." "that's what we've been told was going on, ma'am," said tom. "i could hear his father scolding him furiously, while his mother was crying, and trying to make peace. dock was ugly, too, and for a time i thought his father was going to throw him out of the house. but in the end it quieted down." "that's a new streak in dock's father, i should say," remarked tom. "time was when he used to come home himself at all hours of the night, and in a condition that must have made his wife's heart sick." "yes, but you know he's turned over a new leaf, and acts as if he meant to stick to the water wagon," mrs. joslyn explained. "somehow it's made him just the other way, very severe with dock. i guess he's afraid now the boy will copy his bad example, and that's peeving mr. phillips." "but he let dock stay in the house, you say?" carl continued. "then i wonder why he didn't show up for orders this morning. the other boy told my mother dock was sick and couldn't come." mrs. joslyn smiled. "yes, he says that," she observed. "i went over to take back a dish i had borrowed, and he was lying on the lounge, smoking a cigarette. he said he was real sick, but between you and me, carl, i'm of the opinion he's just tired of his job, and means to throw it up. he'd rather loaf than work any day." carl breathed more freely. it was of course none of his business what dock did with himself, though he might think the other was a mean shirk to hang around idle when his people needed every dollar they could scrape up. "thank you for telling me this, mrs. joslyn," he said as with his chum he prepared to take his departure; "it relieves my mind in several ways. and please don't whisper my secret to any one. i still hope to be able to get that paper from dock sooner or later, if he doesn't come to terms with amasa culpepper." "i promise you faithfully carl," the little woman told him. "i guess i'm able to hold my tongue, even if they do say my sex never can. and carl, you must let me know if anything happens to alter conditions, because i'm dreadfully interested. this is the first time in all my life i've been connected with a secret." "i certainly will let you know, mrs. joslyn," carl promised. "and furthermore," she continued, "if i happen to see dock doing anything that looks queer or suspicious i'll get word to you. he might happen to have his hiding-place somewhere around the back yard or the hen house, you know. he may have buried the paper in the garden. i'll keep an eye on the neighbors while he's home." tom was chuckling at a great rate as he and carl went down the street. "it looks as if you've got mrs. joslyn a whole lot interested, carl," he told the other. "she's just burning with curiosity to find out something. every time dock steps out to feed the chickens she's going to drop whatever she may be doing, and focus her eyes on him, even if her pork chops burn to black leather." "i wonder what he's meaning to do?" remarked carl, in a speculative way. "oh! just as mrs. joslyn told us, dock's a lazy fellow," tom suggested; "and now that his father is working steadily he thinks it's time for him to have a rest. then we believe he's expecting sooner or later to get a big lot of money from mr. culpepper, when they come to terms." "yes," added carl. "and in the meantime perhaps he's got amasa to hand him over a few dollars a week, just to keep him quiet. that would supply his cigarettes, you know, and give him spending money." "well, it's a question how long his father will put up with it," tom mused. "one of these fine days we'll likely hear that dock has been kicked out, and taken to the road." "he's going with that tony pollock crowd you know," carl hinted; "and some of them would put him up for a time. but i'm hoping we'll find a chance to make him own up, and hand back the thing he stole. i'd like to see my mother look happy again." "does amasa still drop in to call now and then?" asked the other. "yes, but my mother insists that i sit up until he goes whenever he does. you'd have a fit laughing, tom, to see the black looks he gives me. i pretend to be studying to beat the band, and in the end he has to take his hat and go. i'm allowed to sleep an hour later after those nights, you see, to make up. it's getting to be a regular nuisance, and mother says she means to send him about his business; but somehow his hide is so thick he can't take an ordinary hint. i think his middle name should have been rhinoceros instead of reuben." "what will she do when you're away with the rest of us on that ten day hike over big bear mountain?" asked tom. "oh! she says she'll have told mr. culpepper before then she doesn't want him to call again," explained carl; "either that or else she'll have to keep all the rest of the children up, and get them to romping like wild indians. you know amasa is nervous, and can't stand noise." tom laughed at the picture thus drawn of three boisterous youngsters employed in causing an ardent wooer to take his departure. "it's only a few days now before we can get started, you know, carl. nearly all the preparations have been made. each scout will have his new uniform on, with a few extra clothes in his pack." "we won't try to carry any tent, will we, tom?" "that's been settled," came the ready answer. "at the meeting when i was elected patrol leader we discussed this trip, and it took like wildfire. in the first place we haven't a tent worth carrying; and then again it would make too heavy a load. all of us have been studying up on how to make brush shelters when in the woods, and even if it rains i think we'll get on fairly well." "each scout has a rubber poncho, which can be made mighty useful in a pinch, i should think," said carl. "then besides our clothes and a blanket, we'll have to carry a cooking outfit, as light as it can be made, and what grub we expect to eat up." "oh! most of that we'll rustle for on the way," the patrol leader told him. "we'll find farms scattered along our route, and it'll be easy enough to buy eggs, milk, perhaps a home-cured ham, some chickens, and other things like bread and butter." "that's a great scheme, tom, and it makes my mouth fairly water just to talk about it. sounds like an army foraging, only instead of taking things we'll expect to pay cash for them. how many are going along on the hike?" "i have yet to hear of any member of the black bear patrol who dreams of backing out; and there are several others who've told me they hope to join us. the way it looks now only a bad case of sickness would be able to keep any scout from being in line on that wonderful morning when lenox troop marches out of town headed for big bear mountain." "one good thing, we don't have to pack any heavy guns along with us," declared carl. "no, that's absolutely forbidden," the patrol leader declared; "we can take a fishing rod if we feel like it, because there's a chance to pick up some trout or bass before we come back on the down-river boat ten days later." "i like that idea of making the return trip by water," carl continued. "it will be great after so much tramping and camping. besides, some of the boys have never been fifteen miles up the river before, and so the trip is going to be a picnic for them." "come over to-night and do your cramming for the exam with me," suggested tom. "i'd like to the worst kind," the other boy said with a grimace; "but this is the night mr. culpepper generally pops in, and you see i'm on guard. but i'm hoping mother will give him his walking papers pretty soon now." "you would have to put a bomb under his chair to convince amasa that his space was more desired than his company," laughed tom, as he strode off toward his own comfortable home. the days passed, and since school would be over for the year at the end of the week, in the bustle of examinations and all that they meant for each boy scout, the intended outing was over-shadowed for the time being. when, however, several of the scouts got together of course the talk soon drifted toward the subject of the hike, and many were the wonderful projects advanced, each of which seemed to give promise of a glorious prospect ahead. so friday night finally came. school had been dismissed with all the accustomed ceremonies that afternoon, and there were few of the boys who had not gone up to a higher grade, so that when the last meeting before their expected vacation trip was called to order by the president of the organization it was a care-free and happy assemblage that answered the roll-call. mr. witherspoon, the scout master, was on hand, but he seldom interfered with the routine of the meeting. it was his opinion that boys got on much better if allowed to manage things as much as possible after their own ideas. if his advice was needed at any time he stood ready to give it; and meanwhile he meant to act more as a big brother to the troop than its leading officer. of course mr. witherspoon expected to start out on the hike with the boys. his only fear was that he might not be allowed to finish the outing in their company, since he was liable to be called away at any time on urgent business. the usual routine of the meeting was gone through with, and then a general discussion took place in connection with the anticipated hike. they had laid out the plan of campaign as well as they could, considering that none of the boys had actually been over the entire route before. "that makes it all the more interesting," tom had told them; "because we'll be apt to meet with a few surprises on the way. none of us would like to have anything all cut and dried ahead of time, i'm sure." "it's generally the unexpected that gives the most pleasure," declared josh kingsley, who was known to have leanings toward being a great inventor some fine day, and always hoped to make an important discovery while he experimented in his workshop in the old red barn back of his home. "well," remarked george cooper, getting slowly to his feet, "there may be some things that drop in on you unexpected like that don't seem to give you a whit of pleasure, and i can name one right now." "oh come, george, you old growler, you're just trying to throw cold water on our big scheme," complained felix robbins, trying to pull the other down. "i've seen him shaking his head lots of times all evening," asserted billy button, "and i just guessed george was aching to make us feel bad. he's never so happy as when he's making other folks miserable." george refused to take his seat. he even shrugged his shoulders as though he thought his comrades were hardly treating him fairly. "listen, fellows," he said, solemnly and ponderously; "i don't like to be the bird of ill omen that carries the bad news; but honest to goodness i'm afraid there's a heap of trouble looming up on the horizon for us unless we change our plans for a hike over big bear mountain." "what sort of trouble do you mean, george?" asked the patrol leader. "only this, mr. president," said george, "on the way here i learned that tony pollock, wedge mcguffey, asa green and dock phillips had started off this very afternoon, meaning to spend a week or more tramping over big bear mountain; and i guess they've got it in for our crowd." chapter ix no surrender "it looks like a set-up job to me!" declared josh kingsley, with a ring of honest indignation in his voice. "they've been hearing so much talk about what a great time we meant to have, it's just made them green with envy; that's what i think," ventured horace crapsey. "yes, but why pick out big bear mountain," felix wanted to know; "unless they meant to spy on the scouts, and give us all the trouble they could?" there were signs of anger visible on every side. scouts may be taught that it is noble to forgive those who wrong them, but all the same they are human, and deep down in their boyish hearts is the resentment any one with spirit feels at being imposed upon. "we haven't lifted a finger to interfere with anything that crowd wanted to do," said walter douglass, aggressively; "and they have no business to upset our plans." "huh! just let them try it, that's all!" grunted josh, shaking his head. "we had an experience something like this over in winchester, where i belonged to the scouts before moving to lenox," remarked rob shaefer, one of the two new boys. "do you mean some rowdies tried to make trouble for you?" asked carl. "in every way they could," the new boy replied. "we stood it as long as we could, and then acted." "what did you do to them?" asked mr. witherspoon, with an amused smile, for he liked to see these wide-awake lads figure out their own plans, and was greatly interested in listening to their discussions as they worked them out. "when it became unbearable," said rob, gravely, though his eyes twinkled, "we ducked the whole five in a frog pond, and after that they let us alone." "cooled 'em off, eh?" chuckled josh, whom the account seemed to amuse very much. "well, that isn't a bad idea, fellows. frog ponds have their uses besides supplying messes of delicious frog-legs for eating. anybody know of a pond that's got a nice green coating of scum on the top? that's the kind i'd like to see tony and his bunch scrambling around it." "oh! the pond will crop up all right when the time comes," asserted felix robbins, confidently; "they always do, you know." "but what are we going to do about this thing?" asked tom, as the chairman of the meeting. "motions are in order. somebody make a suggestion, so we can get the sense of the troop." "one thing certain," observed george, "we've got to give up the plan we've mapped out, and change our programme--or else count on running foul of tony and his crowd. which is it going to be?" a chorus of indignant remonstrances immediately arose. "why should we take water when we laid our plans first?" one demanded. "there are only four of them, all told, while we expect to number ten, perhaps a full dozen!" another scout announced. "i don't believe in knuckling down to any ugly lot of fellows that chooses to knock up against us," and josh must have expressed the feelings of most of those present when he said this, for there was a chorus of "my sentiments exactly," as soon as he finished. then, somehow, all eyes began to turn toward the scout master. they had come to think a great deal of mr. witherspoon. he seemed to have a great love for boys implanted in his heart, and was thus an ideal scout master; for there was always an exchange of sympathy between him and his charges. "you want to know what i think of it, boys?" he started to say. "it would have a heap of influence on our actions, sir--even if we did hate to play second fiddle to that crowd," admitted felix. "but i can see no reason why we should do that," the scout master immediately told them, and at this the anxious look on many faces gave way to one of satisfaction. "then you don't want us to give up the big bear mountain hike, and make up another programme; is that it, mr. witherspoon?" asked tom, who had not been quite so much concerned as some of the others, because he believed he knew the nature of their efficient scout master, and that he was not one of the "back-down" kind. "why should we do that?" replied the other, quietly. "we are not supposed to be aware of the fact that these four rowdies have gone off in that direction. our plain duty is to follow out our original plans, go about our own business, interfering with no one, and at the same time standing up for our rights." at hearing this some of the boys turned and exchanged expressive grins; others even shook hands with each other. fair play was something they admired above all things; and this manly stand on the part of their scout master pleased them immensely. "we're all glad to hear you say that, mr. witherspoon," the chairman of the meeting told him. "i'm sure i voice the sentiments of every scout present when i say that while we'll try to avoid trouble up to a certain point, there's going to be a limit to our forbearance." "and the frog-pond cure is always available as a last resort," added the new boy from winchester. "now let us try to forget all about this disagreeable topic, and go on with the discussion concerning the things we should take with us," the scout master suggested. "scouts should always be able to meet an emergency, no matter how suddenly it is forced on them. we'll be prepared, but at the same time not borrow trouble." accordingly all mention of tony pollock and his scapegrace cronies was avoided as they once more entered into a warm but perfectly friendly argument. there was one among them, however, who seemed to still look troubled. this was no other than carl oskamp. glancing toward his chum several times, tom could see the lines on his forehead, and he was also able to give a pretty good guess why this should be so. of course, it was all on account of the fact that when george made his announcement concerning the movements of tony pollock he had stated that dock phillips was one of the group that had left town, bent on spending a week on big bear mountain. this meant that the new scheme which carl had expected to "try out" on the coming saturday night could not be attempted, because the object of his attention would be far away. tom meant to comfort his chum after the meeting, when they were walking home together. he could see further than carl, and would be able to find more or less encouragement in the way things were working. scout affairs were certainly picking up in lenox of late. perhaps the coming to town of rob shaefer and stanley ackerman, who had both belonged to troops in the past, may have had considerable to do with it. at any rate the new wolf patrol numbered five, and other boys were showing a disposition to make application for membership. rob shaefer was booked for the patrol leader, because of his previous experience along those lines, as well as the fact that he was becoming well liked in lenox boy circles. the other new boy, while a pretty fair sort of fellow, did not have the same winning qualities that rob did. some of them even thought he felt envious because of rob's popularity, though if this were true, he took the wrong means to supplant his rival in the affection of their new friends. as this would be the last chance to talk things over, every little detail had to be settled before the meeting broke up. each boy who expected to accompany the expedition starting out to explore big bear mountain was directed what to carry with him. "and remember," mr. witherspoon told them as a final caution, "we expect to do much tramping under a hot june sun, so that every ounce you have to carry along will tell on your condition. limit your pack to the bare necessities as we've figured them out, and if necessary the strong will assist the weak. that's about all for to-night, boys. seven sharp on monday morning outside the church here, unless it's stormy. the church bell will ring at six if we are going." the boys gave a cheer as the meeting broke up. and it was a merry-hearted lot of lads that started forth bound for various homes where there would be more or less of a bustle and excitement until the hour of departure arrived on monday morning. tom and carl walked home together. "i could see what ailed you, carl," the patrol leader was saying as he locked arms with his chum; "you felt as though things were going against you when george announced that dock had left town." "because now i'll not have a chance to try out that second plan we'd arranged for, and which i had great hopes might succeed," complained carl, gloomily. "cheer up," urged the other, in his hearty fashion; "perhaps things are working your way after all. how do we know but that a glorious chance may come up and that you can win out yet? dock has gone to big bear mountain, where we expect to camp. in a whole week or more we're apt to run across him maybe many times. and carl, something seems to tell me your chance is going to come while we're off on this hike. dock hasn't settled with mr. culpepper yet, that's certain; and he's got that paper hidden away still. keep up your hopes, and it's sure to come out all right yet. besides, think what a grand time we're going to have on our outing!" chapter x ready for the start on the following day, which was saturday, there was considerable visiting among the scouts who so proudly wore their new khaki suits. conferences were of hourly occurrence, blankets brought out for inspection and comment, packs made up and taken to pieces again, and all manner of advice asked concerning the best way to carry the same. each boy had a written list of what he was expected to provide. this was a part of the wonderful system tom chesney had inaugurated. he had told them it was copied from the methods in vogue in the german army, so that in case of a hurried mobilization every man capable of bearing arms in the whole empire would know exactly what his particular duty was. this scout was to carry a generous frying-pan, made of sheet-steel to reduce the weight; another had to look out for the coffee-pot, which was also to hold enough for at least six thirsty campers. so it went on through the whole list of necessities. there were to be two messes of five or six each, and the second had a duplicate list of cooking utensils, as well as food to look after. nothing had been omitted that tom, assisted by several others who had had more or less camping experience, could think of. it was about eleven this saturday morning when tom, doing a little work among his vegetables in the kitchen garden, heard his name called. glancing up he discovered carl standing there by the fence that separated the garden from the highway. immediately tom realized that something new must have happened to make his chum appear so downcast. his first fear was that mr. culpepper had been asked by carl's mother for the securities, and had flatly denied ever having had them. "hello! what's gone wrong now, carl?" he asked, as he hurried over to join the boy who was leaning both elbows on the picket fence, and holding his head in his hands. "it seems as though everything is going wrong with us nowadays, tom," sighed poor carl. "anything more about that stolen paper?" asked tom. "no, it's something else this time," carl replied. "just as if we didn't have enough to worry about already." "no one sick over at your house, is there?" demanded the other, anxiously. "i'm glad to say that isn't the case," carl told him. "fact is, some bad news came in a letter mother had this morning from a lawyer in the city who manages her small affairs." "was it about that tenement house she owns, and the rents from which comes part of her income?" continued tom, quick to make a guess, for he knew something about the affairs of carl's folks. the other nodded his head as he went on to explain: "it burned down, and through some mistake of a clerk part of the insurance was allowed to lapse, so that we will not be able to collect on more than half. isn't that hard luck though, tom?" "i should say it is," declared the other, with a look of sympathy on his face. "but if it was the fault of the lawyer's clerk why shouldn't he be held responsible for the loss? i'd think that was only fair in the eye of the law." "oh!" said carl, quickly, "but my mother says he's really a poor man, and hasn't anything. besides, he's been conducting her little business since father died without charging a cent for his labor, so you see there's no hope of our collecting more than half of the insurance." "too bad, and i'm mighty sorry," tom told him. "coming on top of our losing that paper you can imagine how my mother feels," continued the other; "though she tries to be cheerful, and keeps on telling me she knows everything is sure to come out right in the end. still i can see that while she puts on a brave face it's only to keep me from feeling so blue. when she's all alone i'm sure she cries, for i can see her eyes are red when i happen to come in on her unexpectedly." "nothing can be done, i suppose, carl?" "not a thing," the other boy replied. "that is what makes me furious. if you can only see what's hitting you, and strike back, it does a whole lot of good. unless something crops up to make things look brighter between now and fall there's one thing certain." "what's that?" asked tom, though he believed he could give a pretty good guess, knowing the independent spirit of his chum so well. "i shall have to quit school, and go to work at something or other. my mother will never be able to meet expenses, even in the quiet way we live, now that part of her little income is cut off. a few hundred dollars a year means a lot to us, you see." "oh, i hope it won't come to that," said tom. "a whole lot may happen between now and the beginning of the fall term. for all we know that missing paper may be recovered, which would put your folks on easy street." "that's about the last hope, then," admitted carl. "it's all i'm counting on; and even then the chances seem to be against us." "but you won't think of backing down about going on this grand hike over big bear mountain, i hope?" remarked the patrol leader. "i believe i'd lack the heart to do it, tom, leaving mother feeling so bad; only for one thing." "meaning the fact that dock phillips is somewhere up there on the mountain; that's what you've got in your mind, isn't it, carl?" "yes, and what you said last night keeps haunting me all the time, tom. what if i did run across the chance to make dock own up, and got him to give me that precious paper? it would make everything look bright again--for with the boom on in the oil region that stock must be worth thousands of dollars to-day, if only we can get hold of the certificate again." "well, you're going to; things often work in a queer way, and that's what is happening now. and i feel as sure as anything that mr. culpepper's stinginess in holding out against dock's demands is going to be his undoing." such confident talk as this could not help having its effect on carl. he had in fact come over to tom's house knowing that he was sure to get comfort there. "you make me feel better already, tom," he asserted, as he took the hand the other boy thrust over the top of the garden fence; "and i'm going to try and look at it as a true scout should, believing that the sun is still shining back of the clouds." "i'm about through with my work here in the garden," tom told him, "so suppose you come around to the gate, or hop over the fence here. we'll go up to my room and take a look over the stuff that i expect to pack out of lenox monday a. m. i want to ask your opinion about several things, and was thinking of calling you up on the 'phone when i heard you speak just now." of course the main object tom had in view was not so much getting carl's opinion as to arouse his interest in the projected trip, so that for the time being he might forget his troubles. the two boys spent an hour chatting, and consulting a map tom produced that was supposed to cover most of the big bear mountain territory. it had been made by an old surveyor some years back, simply to amuse himself, and while not quite up to date might be said to be fairly accurate. mr. witherspoon had secured this chart and loaned it to tom, for there was always a possibility of his receiving a sudden call on business that would take him away from town, when the duty of engineering the trip must fall to the leader of the black bear patrol as the second in command. that was going to be an unusually long and tedious sunday for a good many boys in lenox. doubtless they would have their thoughts drawn from the sermon, as they sat with their folks in the family pews. and, too, looking out of the window at the waving trees they would probably picture themselves far away on the wooded slope of big bear mountain, perhaps making their first camp, and starting the glorious fire around which, as the night drew on, they would gather to tell stories and sing school songs. and it could be set down as certain that few of those who expected to join the adventurous spirits starting forth on the long mountain hike slept very soundly on the last night. when the hour agreed on, seven o'clock, came around, there was a scene of bustle under the tower of the church, where the scouts had gathered, together with many friends both young and old who meant to give them a noisy send-off on their hike over big bear mountain. chapter xi on the way amidst many hearty cheers and the clapping of hands the boy scouts started off. felix robbins had been elected bugler of the troop, and as there was no regular instrument for him, he had thought to fetch along the fish horn the boys used in playing fox and geese. this he sounded with considerable vim as the khaki-clad lads marched away, with a flag at their head, the scout master keeping step alongside the column. some of the older people had come to see them off. others hurried to the open doors and windows at the sound of the horn and the cheers, to wave their hands and give encouraging smiles. it was a proud time for those boys. they stood up as straight as ramrods, and held their heads with the proud consciousness that for the time being they were the center of attraction. there were ten in all starting forth. more might have gone, only that no scout not wearing the khaki could accompany the expedition; and besides the members of the black bear patrol, rob shaefer and stanley ackerman were the only two who could boast of a uniform. a number of boys accompanied them for a mile or so, to give them a good send-off; after which they either returned home or else went over the river fishing. for the first two miles or so every one seemed to be standing the tramp well. then as it began to get warmer, and the pack, somehow, seemed to increase in weight, several scouts lagged a little. seeing this, and understanding that it is always an unwise thing to push a horse or a human being in the beginning of a long race, mr. witherspoon thought it best to slacken their pace. they were in no particular hurry to get anywhere; and once heels began to get sore from the rubbing of their shoes, it would not be easy to cure them again. the wise scout master was a believer in the motto that "an ounce of prevention is better than a pound of cure." ahead of them loomed the lofty elevation that possibly from its shape had long been known as big bear mountain. the boys had tried to learn just how it came by that name--and naturally this subject interested them more than ever as they found themselves drawing steadily closer to its foot. "it doesn't look so _very_ much like a bear to me," george kingsley remarked, as the discussion waxed warmer. though for that matter george always did find some reason to object to almost everything. "i was told by an old settler who ought to know," ventured tom, "that long ago numerous bears lived in the rocky dens of the mountain, and that's how it came to be called as it is." "must have been years and years ago then," said josh, "because i never remember hearing about a bear being seen hereabouts. i often used to look for bear tracks when i was out hunting, but of course i never found one." "wouldn't it be a great thing if we did happen on a real bear while we were out on this hike?" suggested billy button, who was rather given to stretches of imagination, and seeing things where they did not exist. so they beguiled the time away as they tramped along. gradually they approached the great gloomy looking mountain, and it was seen that by the time they stopped for their noon meal they would probably be at its foot. tom and carl were walking together, for somehow the boys seemed to pair off as a general thing. carl was looking brighter now, as though in the excitement of the start he might have temporarily forgotten his troubles. "there don't seem to be so many farms up this way as we thought," tom observed as they found themselves walking close beside a stretch of woodland, with a gully on the other side of the road. "that may make it harder for us to get the supplies we'll need, i should think," suggested carl, who knew the leaders of the expedition had counted on finding hospitable farmers from time to time, from whom they could purchase bread, butter, and perhaps smoked ham or bacon, very little of which had been carried with them--in fact no more than would be required for a few meals. "yes," admitted tom readily enough. "but then it will afford us a chance to show our ability as scouts--and if you look at it the right way that counts for a lot. when everything goes according to the schedule you've arranged there isn't much credit in doing things; but when you're up against it good and hard, and have to shut your teeth and fight, then when you accomplish things you've got a right to feel satisfied." carl knew full well there was a hidden significance beneath these words of his chum's--and that tom was once more trying to buoy up his hopes. since they had struck a portion of country not so thickly populated, the observing scouts had commenced to notice numerous interesting sights that attracted their attention. soon every boy was straining his eyesight in the hope of discovering new things among the trees, in the air overhead, or it might be amidst the shadows of the woodland alongside the country road. the scout master encouraged this habit of observation all he could. he knew that once it got a firm hold upon the average boy he could never again pass along a road or trail in the country without making numberless discoveries. what had once been a sealed book to his eyes would now become as an open page. about this time there were heard inquiries as to when they expected to stop and have a bite of lunch. tom and the scout master had already arranged this, and when the third scout was heard to say he felt as hungry as a wolf, tom took it upon himself to explain. "if you look ahead," he remarked, so that all could hear, "you'll notice where a hump of the mountain seems to hang over the road. that's about where we expect to rest an hour or so." "must be something unusual about this particular place, i should say, for you to settle on it ahead of time this way," remarked wise josh in his yankee way. "there is," tom informed him. "according to my map here, and what information i've been able to pick up, there's a fine cold spring bubbles up alongside the road right there; and for one i'm feeling the need of a good drink the worst kind." after that it was noticed that even the laggards began to show unusual energy, as if the prospect of soon being able to throw themselves down and slake their thirst, as well as satisfy their hunger, appealed forcibly to them. it was close on to noon when finally, with a shout, they hurried forward and dropped their packs close to where the ice-cold spring flowed. "queer how heavy those old packs do get the longer you carry them," observed george, as he waited for his turn to lie down and drink his fill of the spring water. "you're a suspicious sort of fellow, george," declared felix; "i've seen you turn around as quick as a flash, just as if you thought some other scout might be hanging his pack on to yours, so as to make you carry double." george turned redder than he had already become under the force of the sun; but he did not deny the accusation. it was decided not to light a fire at noon. they could eat a cold lunch and wash it down with water. "we'll keep our fire for this evening," said mr. witherspoon; "you know it is generally quite a ceremony--the starting of the first campfire when scouts go off on a long trip." waiting until the sun had started well on his way down the heavens, and there had arisen a little breeze that made it more bearable, the scout master finally had felix sound his fish horn for the signal to "fall in." some of the boys did not show quite as much animation as on that other occasion. they were not accustomed to walking for hours, and would have to get used to it through experience. an hour later they were straggling along, some of them on the other side of a wire fence that separated the road from the woods, as there seemed to be a chance of making interesting discoveries there. "look at that red squirrel hanging head down to the bark on the trunk of that tree!" exclaimed billy button; "i never noticed just how they did that stunt before." "huh! lots of us are seeing things through a magnifying glass since we joined the scouts," admitted felix. "seems as if the scales have been taken from my eyes, and i find a thousand things worth looking at all around me." "well, here comes one right now, felix; and he's a bouncer at that!" cried the third of the group that had invaded the woods beyond the barbed-wire fence. even as he spoke there was a furious barking, and a savage-looking dog came tearing swiftly toward them, evidently bent on doing mischief. chapter xii the first camp-fire "help, he's going to eat us all up!" shouted billy button. felix and rob shaefer did not like the looks of the oncoming dog any more than did billy. being more pugnacious by nature, however, instead of making a frantic dash over the wire fence, and trying to crawl through between the strands at the risk of tearing their clothes, they hurried to snatch up some clubs which would serve them as a means of defence. the dog acted as if he meant business. they were trespassing on his master's territory, and as the guardian appointed to defend this ground he assailed the intruders without fear or favor. they had quite a lively time of it, what with the shouting, the loud bursts of laughter from those scouts who were safe on the other side of the fence, and the agonized cries of billy button, caught fast in the grip of the barbed-wire, and expecting to be devoured. both felix and rob had luckily managed to secure fairly strong pieces of broken limbs from the trees. with these they boldly assaulted the dog, and kept him from jumping on the helpless comrade until some of the others came to billy's assistance, and by raising the wires allowed him to crawl through. tom and george hastened to join in the fray for it was evident that the savage dog would have to be beaten off before those who were in danger could find a chance to reach the road again. with four enemies against him the dog concluded that he had done all that could be expected of him, and that it was now no dishonor to beat a masterly retreat; which he accordingly did. the boys pretended to chase after him, with loud shouts; but seeing their opportunity to escape made haste to put the wire fence between themselves and the owner of those cruel white fangs. as long as he could follow them from his side of the barrier the dog continued to bark savagely; but did not offer to leave his own domain. after all billy button was the only one to suffer, and he had a fine big three-cornered hole in his coat. "going into the real-estate business, are you, billy?" asked josh, who could always see a chance for a joke. "oh! am i?" retorted the other. "what makes you think that, josh?" "because you've got a sign up 'to rent,'" is what the other told him. "didn't i see that dog take hold of you by the leg, felix, at the time you struck him so hard on the head with your club?" mr. witherspoon asked. "yes, sir, but he only dented my leggings, you see," the bugler replied, as he showed where the marks of the animal's teeth could be plainly seen; "that's the good of having extra-thick canvas leggings on; they save you from snake bites and all sorts of other things that you don't want." "it was a pretty lively skirmish while it lasted, let me tell you," admitted rob shaefer, who had seemed quite to enjoy the affair. another hour or more passed, with the column straggling along, and some of the boys showing positive signs of fatigue. mr. witherspoon had been consulting with the leader of the black bear patrol, and evidently they had reached a conclusion, for presently the welcome order was given to turn into the woods, as the day's hike was at an end. gladly did those tired lads obey the call. and one of the first things they discovered was that there was another cold spring nearby, the presence of which, of course, had been known to those who carried the chart of the region. first of all they dropped down to rest themselves. later on, when they were feeling more like doing things, they would start to put the camp in order, get the fires started, and perhaps erect some sort of rude shelter that to a certain degree would take the place of tents. finally some of the more enterprising began to stir around. josh took it upon himself to provide a fireplace made out of stones which lay conveniently near. it was to be built according to the best formula he knew, something in the shape of a letter v, with the large end toward the wind; and across the top of the stones they would lay their iron rods, thus forming a gridiron on which would rest the frying-pan and the coffee-pot. "i'll duplicate your cooking fire, josh," said rob shaefer, who meant to show some of his new chums a few wrinkles he had learned when in camp on other occasions. half an hour before the sun went down both fires were crackling at a great rate; and when good beds of red embers should have formed operations looking to supper would be started by those in charge of the occasion. everybody took a deep interest in what was now going on. all sorts of suggestions were called back and forth as the ham was sliced and the potatoes put in the pots for boiling; while further along the fires the two coffee-pots began to emit a most delightful and appetizing odor that made the hungry boys wild with impatience. the spot where they had determined to spend their first night out was in the midst of the woods. around them the forest trees lay on every side, some being great oaks, others beeches, with drooping branches and smooth silvery bark--as well as other species, such as sycamore, ash and lindens. most of the scouts were bubbling over with enthusiasm concerning the outlook before them; but several of the less daring ones might be seen casting furtive glances about as though the prospect of passing the night amidst such lonely surroundings had already commenced to make them feel a little queer. no doubt the pride of these fellows would carry them through the initial night; and after that by degrees they would become accustomed to their new experiences. every soldier can look back to his first battle, remembering how he trembled in his shoes, and feeling that he would give all he possessed for the privilege of running away at top speed. and when supper was ready, with the boys gathered around, each bent on doing the best he knew how to show his appreciation of the work of the cooks, it seemed to be the fitting climax to a most wonderful day. would they ever forget that supper? never had anything tasted so royally good at home. "this is the life!" declared josh kingsley, buoyantly, as he passed his tin plate along for a second helping when he heard it mentioned that there was still a further supply not distributed. "it certainly does taste pretty fine to me!" admitted horace crapsey, who had in times gone by been so finicky about his eating that his folks had begun to wonder what was going to become of him--yet who was now sitting there cross-legged like a turk, wielding an ordinary knife and fork, and with his pannikin on his lap, actually doing without a napkin, and enjoying it in the bargain. mr. witherspoon had the seat of honor, for the boys insisted that he should occupy the highest place on the log that had been rolled near the fires. he observed all that went on with satisfaction. boys were close to his heart, and he never tired of his hobby of studying them. it was a constant source of delight to the scout master to listen to them chatter, and he noticed that a perceptible change was taking place in some of his charges since first joining the troop. finally when every youth admitted that he had had all he could eat, mr. witherspoon got up. "now it's full time we started our _real_ campfire," he announced. "that was why i had you gather such a big heap of wood. here's the right place for the blaze, as we must be careful not to scorch any of the trees, the branches of which hang down over us, because this property belongs to some one, and we must respect his rights." he had no trouble about finding willing workers, because every one acted as if anxious to have a hand in the building of that first campfire, to be recorded in the annals of lenox troop as an event of unusual importance. when finally the pyramid had been carefully built the scout master was asked to apply the match. "unfortunately i do not know the customary procedure on such momentous occasions," he told the boys, as they formed a circle around the pile; "and all i can say is that with this match i am about to dedicate this fire to the useful purpose of bringing all our hearts in tune with our surroundings. for to-night then, we will try to believe ourselves real vagabonds, or children of the forest, sitting around the sanctuary at which every camper worships--the crackling fire!" then the blaze began to seize hold of the wood, and amidst the cheers of the enthusiastic scouts the fire got fully under way. high leaped the red flames, so that presently there was a general backward movement, on account of the heat. had it been november instead of june, they would doubtless have enjoyed the cheery warmth much more. each boy managed to pick out a comfortable place, and then the talk began to grow general. plans for the morrow and the succeeding days were being discussed with much ardor. it was while this was going on, and the scouts were all feeling most happy that with but scant warning a discomforting element was suddenly injected into camp content. moving figures, harsh voices, together with the half strangled barks of dogs held in leash startled the seated campers. two rough-looking men, evidently a farmer and his hired man, armed with guns, and holding a couple of dogs by ropes, came in sight close by. chapter xiii the life that might have been saved "hey! what d'ye mean by trespassin' on my ground? i'll have the law on ye for darin' to build a big bonfire like that! no tramp convention c'n threaten to set fire to my woods, let me tell ye!" the man in the lead was shouting this in an angry voice as he bustled forward, with his dog growling and straining to get free. of course every one of the boys scrambled to his feet in a hurry. the sight of their khaki uniforms seemed to give the big farmer a decided shock, for they saw him come to a stop. "what's this here?" he exclaimed, as he stared at the dozen lads. "tell me, am i seein' things bill scruggs? is it the state militia dropped down on us? is there a war on?" mr. witherspoon, who was of course in uniform, stepped to the front and made the old fellow a military salute that must have gone far toward soothing his ruffled feelings. "we're sorry if we've intruded on your ground, sir," he said in that convincing voice of his. "the fact is these are some of the boy scouts of lenox, a troop that has lately been organized. i am robert witherspoon, the surveyor, and if i'm not mistaken i did some work for you a few months ago, mr. brush." "that's a fact ye did, mr. witherspoon," declared the farmer, with less venom in his tone. "seems like i didn't know ye with them togs on." "i'm acting as scout master to these lads just now," continued the other, in his conciliatory way. "one of the rules of the organization is that each troop must have a grown person to serve with them, so that any undue boyish spirits may be kept within reasonable bounds." "so i read in the paper, mr. witherspoon," continued the countryman. "won't you tie up your dogs, mr. brush, and come and join us here before the fire?" asked the scout master, who doubtless had more or less faith in the ability of a cheery blaze to curb animosity. they saw the farmer rub his chin with his hand. he seemed to be debating within himself as to whether or not it would be advisable to comply with such a friendly invitation. "well, p'raps i mightn't git such a good chance to look scouts over again as this here one," he presently said, half to himself. "i've been reading a hull lot lately 'bout the doin's of the boys. got three lads o' my own yet," and there he was seen to swallow something that seemed almost to choke him. "then for their sake you ought to be interested in this great movement, mr. brush," said the scout master; "i remember a bright boy of yours who was very much interested in the little surveying work i did for you that day. he helped me some, and said he thought he'd like to be a civil engineer when he grew up. if he joined the scouts that desire might be encouraged, sir, i assure you." "oh, they been pesterin' the life outen me to let 'em jine, but i ain't had no faith in the thing," mr. brush went on to say, with a stubborn shake of the head. he had by this time tied up his dog, and was accepting a seat on the log close to the obliging scout master. the boys were satisfied to let mr. witherspoon do the most of the talking. they could see that he meant to open the eyes of this unbeliever, and show him a few things that he ought to know. "just why did you frown on the scout movement, may i ask, sir?" mr. witherspoon continued, quietly. "well, in the fust place i don't calc'late that my boys be brought up to be food for gunpowder," replied the farmer. "then like a good many people you think boy scouts in this country are intended to become a part of the military defences; is that it, mr. brush?" "do you mean to tell me it ain't so, mr. witherspoon?" asked the farmer. "nothing is further from the truth than that, as i'll prove to you in a dozen ways, if you care to listen," the scout master told him. "fire away, then," said the farmer. "i'm not hide-bound ye know, and allers open to conviction; so tell me why i orter let my three boys jine the scouts." mr. witherspoon started in and explained the fundamental principles upon which the new movement was organized. he soon convinced the farmer that there was not the slightest intention on the part of those having the matter in hand to incorporate the scouts into a national defence movement. "was that the only objection you had, mr. brush?" he asked when the farmer frankly admitted that he had been wrong in his opinion. "i reckoned that these boys only got together and wore uniforms for a big lark," was the reply to his question. "i ought to know what boys is like, havin' had four of my own." "then you have lost one, have you sir?" questioned the scout master, not from idle curiosity, either, tom chesney felt positive. the old man heaved a great sigh. "yes, my youngest, and the darling o' his maw's heart, little jim. only last summer he was off swimmin' with several o' his chums, and got caught with a cramp. they got him out, brave enough, but--he never kim to agin." mr. witherspoon cast a quick and meaning glance around the circle of eager faces. several of the scouts nodded in a significant fashion as though they guessed what was flashing through the mind of their leader. "mr. brush," said the scout master, gravely, "i'd like to tell you some things that to my own personal knowledge scouts have done; things that they never would have been capable of performing in the wide world had they remained outside of this organization that first of all teaches them to be manly, independent, helpful to others, and true to themselves. may i, sir?" "jest as ye please, mr. witherspoon," came the low reply, for the farmer had evidently been partly overcome with the sad remembrance of the vacant chair, and the face he missed so much at his table. the scout master went about it in a very able manner. again he explained the numerous duties of a scout, and how he was taught to render first aid to the injured in case, for instance, his services should ever be needed when some comrade cut himself with an ax, and was in peril of bleeding to death. "there are other ways," mr. witherspoon continued, "in which the scout is instructed to be able to depend on himself should he be lost in the wilderness, caught in a tornado, tempted to take refuge in a barn, or under an exposed tree during a thunder storm." "all o' that sounds mighty interestin', i must say, sir!" commented the farmer, deeply interested. "to my own personal knowledge, mr. brush," finally said the other, "on three separate occasions i have known of cases where a boy in swimming was apparently dead when dragged from the water after having been under for several minutes; in every one of those instances his scout companions, working according to the rules that had become a part of their education, managed to revive the fluttering spark of life and save the lad!" there was an intense silence as the last word was spoken. every one of those boys realized how terribly the man was suffering, for they could see his face working. presently he looked up, with a groan that welled from his very heart. "jest a year too late, sir!" he said, in an unsteady voice. "oh, why didn't ye come last june? my little jim was alive then, and the apple of my eye. if he'd jined the scouts he might a be'n with us right now. a year too late--it's hard, hard!" "but you said you have three boys still, mr. brush?" said the scout master. "so i have, and mighty dear they be to me too!" exclaimed the farmer, as he proceeded to bring down his ponderous fist on his knee, "and arter what you've told me this night, sir, they cain't be scouts any too soon to please me. i've had my lesson, and it was a bitter one. i'm right glad ye kim along to-night, and camped in my big woods, where we seen the light o' yer fire." "and we're glad too, mr. brush," said the scout master, while several of the boys were heard to cough as though taken with a sudden tickling in their throats. long they sat there talking. mr. brush became an ardent advocate of the scout movement, and even made an arrangement for his boys to join the new patrol being formed, though it would mean many a trip in and out of lenox for him in his new cheap motor car, in order that they attend the weekly meetings. after all that was an evening long to be remembered. tom chesney, who kept a regular log of the outing, meaning to enter his account in a competition for a prize that had been offered by a metropolitan daily, found a fine chance to spread himself when jotting down the particulars. the farmer could hardly tear himself away from the crackling fire. three times he said he must be going, yet did not stir, which quite amused josh kingsley and felix robbins. "our scout master sure must have missed his calling when he set out to be a civil engineer and surveyor," whispered the former in the ear of felix. "that's so," replied the other, "for while he may be a pretty good civil engineer, he'd made a crackerjack of a lawyer or a preacher. when he talks somehow you just hang on every word he says, and it convinces you deep down. that old farmer on a jury would do whatever mr. witherspoon wanted. but it's been worth hearing; and i'm a heap glad to be a scout, after listening to what he's been saying." finally the owner of the woods shook hands all around with them, and accompanied by his hired man and the two dogs respectfully took his departure. chapter xiv at the foot of big bear mountain it took them a long time to get settled on that night. some of the scouts were about to experience their first camp sleep. they had to be shown just how to arrange their blankets, and what to do about the customary pillow upon which they wished to rest their heads. tom, josh and rob shaefer, having been through the mill before, explained these things. they even helped the tenderfeet fill with hemlock browse the little cotton bag, which had possibly once held flour, and which each scout had been advised to carry along in his pack. "they'll be worth their weight in gold many times on the trip," said tom, when even mr. witherspoon stood listening with interest, for he had not as yet learned everything, he was free to confess. "but do we have to carry them along with us like that?" asked horace as he held up the rather bulky object he had made of his cotton slip. "certainly not," he was informed; "you empty it before breaking camp, and in the evening fill it again. plenty of hemlock or spruce handy, whenever you choose to stretch out your hand and pluck it." "you must show me about all these things," billy button remarked. "to tell the truth i don't know the difference between balsam, fir, spruce, hemlock, larch and some other trees i've heard you talking about." "i'll begin to-morrow, and you'll find it simple enough," tom promised him. after all the night really passed without any disturbance. tom and rob managed to wake up a number of times, and getting quietly out of their snug nests, they renewed the fire, thus keeping it going all through the night. had any one been watching closely they probably would have seen a head bob up occasionally, the owner take a cautious look around, and then drop back again as though convinced that all was well, with no danger of ferocious wild beasts raiding the camp. these were the tenderfeet of the troop. they of course could not sleep save in snatches, and the strangeness of their surroundings caused them to feel more or less nervous. all they heard, however, was the barking of farmer brush's watch dogs or some little woods animal complaining because these two-legged intruders had disturbed the peace of their homeland. with the coming of dawn there was a stir in camp. then one by one the scouts crawled out from their blankets, all but two greenhorns. "let them sleep a while longer," said mr. witherspoon. "i fancy neither of them passed a very comfortable night." and at this the other boys moderated their voices as they proceeded to get an early breakfast ready, though in no hurry to leave that pleasant camp content. of course both the laggards were up and ready by the time the call to breakfast was heard in the land. it may be that the smell of the eggs and bacon frying and the aromatic coffee's bubbling had much to do with arousing them. while they were eating who should appear but the hired man of farmer brush. he had a big basket on his arm, also a note for the scout master. "i have to go to town early this morning or i'd fetch these few things myself," the note ran; "i want you to accept them from me with my compliments, and my hearty thanks for your entertainment last night. i have hardly slept a wink thinking about what you told me; and next meeting me and my boys will be on hand. "ezra brush. "p.s. the chickens my wife sends you, and she says they are tender enough to fry." besides the four chickens, all ready for cooking, there was a fine print of new butter, as well as a carton of several dozen eggs fresh from the coop. "three cheers for mr. brush, fellows!" cried tom, after the scout master had read the note aloud; and they were given with a will, much to the entertainment of bill, who stood there and grinned broadly. it was about eight o'clock when the column started once more. they meant to leave the main road they had been following up to this time, for it did not run in the direction they wanted to go. there was another smaller one which they expected to follow, for that day at least, and which skirted the base of the mountain, even ascending it in several places, as their map showed. "it will be our last day on any sort of road, if we follow out the programme as arranged," tom chesney explained, as they sat around at noon munching the "snack" each scout had been commissioned to prepare at breakfast time against his being hungry in the middle of the day, when they would not care to start a fire in order to do any cooking. "you mean we expect to push right up the mountain and begin exploring the country, don't you, tom?" asked josh between bites. "yes, and three of the fellows intend to make maps as we go, for practice," the leader of the black bear patrol explained. "all i hope is," commented billy button, anxiously, "that we don't manage to get lost. i've got a very important engagement a week from friday that i wouldn't want to miss." "huh, guess i'm in the same box," chuckled josh; "anyway i promised to be sitting in my usual chair with my feet under our dining table on that same day; and it'd grieve my heart if i missed connections." the middle of that june day proved to be very warm, and the boys decided to lie around for several hours. when the sun had got well started down the western sky perhaps there might be a little more life in the air. besides, they were in no hurry; so what was the use of exerting themselves unduly? "i hope it isn't going to storm!" suggested carl, as they sprawled under the shady tree where they had halted for the noon rest, each youth in as comfortable an attitude as he could assume. "oh, is there any chance of a terrible storm dropping down on us, do you think?" asked horace crapsey, looking troubled; for although none of the others knew it, the crash of the thunder and the play of lightning had struck terror to his soul ever since the time he had been knocked down, when a tree near his house was shattered by a bolt from the clouds. "not that you can see right now," josh informed him, a little contemptuously; with a strong boy's feeling toward one who shows signs of being afraid; "but when it's summer time and when, in the bargain, a day has been as hot as this one, you never can tell." "that's so, josh," george kingsley remarked, wagging his head as though for once he actually agreed with something that had been said; "a simmering day often coaxes a storm along. it may hit us toward night-time, or even come on any hour afterwards when we're sleeping like babes in the woods." "but what can we do for shelter?" asked billy button; "we haven't got even a rag for a tent; and once we get soaked it'll be a hard job to dry our suits, you know." "leave that to us, billy," tom told him, confidently. "first of all every scout has a rubber poncho; two of these fastened together will make what they call a dog tent, under which a couple of fellows can tuck themselves, and keep the upper part of their bodies dry. soldiers always use them." "yes," added rob shaefer; "and if it looks like rain to-night we'll raise several brush shanties. by making use of the rubber blankets they can be kept as dry as a bone. scouts must learn how to meet every possible condition that can rise up. that's a big part of the fun, once you've begun to play the game." billy seemed to be much impressed by this cheering intelligence; and even horace smiled again, having recovered from his little panic. it was almost three o'clock when the signal was given for a start. they took it slowly, and in the next two hours had probably covered little more than two miles. they were still loitering along the road that skirted the foot of the big bear mountain. "as we have some extra cooking to do to-night, boys," the scout master told them, "we had better pull up here where we can get fine water. that's one of the things you must always look for when camping, remember." nothing pleased the scouts better than the prospect of stopping, and starting supper, for they were tired, and hungry in the bargain. "if we didn't want to eat these fowls right away," tom remarked, "i'd suggest that we bake them in a hot oven made in the ground. that's the original cooker, you know. but it takes a good many hours to do it." "another time, perhaps, when we're stopping several days in one camp we'll get some more chickens, tom," said the scout master, "and have you show us just how it is done. i've heard of the old-time scheme, but never tasted anything cooked in a mud oven." everything looked calm and peaceful just then, but after all that was a deception and a snare. even while the cooks were starting in to cut up the chickens so that the various parts might be placed in the two big frying-pans, after a certain amount of fat salt pork had been "tried out," and allowed to get fiercely hot, josh, who happened to be seen coming from the spring with a coffee-pot of water called out: "well, here comes your storm cloud all right, horace; only instead of a ducking we stand a chance of getting a licking from another enraged tiller of the soil!" chapter xv not guilty "whew! but he looks even madder than mr. brush did!" exclaimed billy button, when he saw the advancing man snap his whip furiously, as though to warn them what to expect on his arrival. every scout was now on his feet and watching. "there's his wagon over on the road," said carl; "he must have been passing and have seen us here. i wonder if we've trespassed on _his_ private property now. mr. witherspoon, you'd better get ready to hypnotize another mad farmer." "he's got his eye on our chickens, let me tell you!" urged josh, as he moved over a few paces, as though meaning to defend the anticipated treat desperately if need be. the man was a big brawny fellow, and very angry at that. mr. witherspoon faced him without a sign of alarm, even smiling, because conscious of having given no reasonable cause for an assault. "that cracking of his whip isn't going to scare us a bit," muttered the pugnacious josh; "he'd better not lay it on me for one, or any of my chums, that's what!" the man could hardly speak at first, from the effect of his anger, together with his hasty rush from the road up to the camp. then holding his threatening whip in one hand he pointed a quivering finger straight toward the fowls that they were expecting to have for their supper, and which could no longer be concealed by josh. "so," bellowed the man, "now i know where the chickens that were stolen from my coop last night went. raidin' the farms up this way, are you? i want to tell you it's going to be a bad job for every one of ye. i'll have the law on ye if i have to go to lenox and look every boy in town over. and i'll know ye all again, if its a month from now." he snapped the whip viciously as he stopped talking; but mr. witherspoon did not seem to shrink back an inch. looking the excited farmer squarely in the eye the scout master started to speak. "i judge from what you say, sir, that you have had the misfortune to lose some of your poultry lately? i'm sorry to hear of it, but when you come and accuse us of being the guilty parties you are making a serious mistake, sir." "oh, am i?" demanded the other, still as furious as ever, though the boys noticed that he made no effort to use the dreadful whip he carried. "i lost some fowls, and you're expecting to have some chickens for dinner. anybody with hoss sense could put them facts together, couldn't they? i ain't to be blarnied so easy, let me tell you." "you seem to talk as though no one owned chickens up this bear mountain way but yourself, sir," said mr. witherspoon, calmly. "these lads are boy scouts. they are a part of the lenox troop, and i can vouch for every one of them as being honest, and incapable of stealing any man's fowls." "you don't say, mister?" sneered the man; "but tell me, who's a-goin' to vouch for you, now?" "my name is robert witherspoon," replied the scout master, showing wonderful self-control the boys thought, considering the insulting manner of the angry farmer. "i am a civil engineer and surveyor. i love boys every way i find them; and it is a pleasure to me to act as their scout master, accompanying them on their hikes when possible, and seeing that they behave themselves in every way. you can find out about my standing from judge jerome, doctor lawson or pastor hotchkiss in lenox." the man still looked in mr. witherspoon's calm eyes. what he saw there seemed to have an influence upon his aroused feelings, for while he still shook his head skeptically there was not so much of menace in his manner now. "boys will be boys, no matter whether they have scout uniforms on or overalls," he said sullenly. "i've suffered mor'n once from raids on my orchards and chicken coops, and found it was some town boys, off on what they called a lark, that made other people suffer." "but i assure you there is not the slightest possibility of any boy here having taken your chickens, sir," continued the scout master. "we've been on the move all day long," added tom, "and only arrived here half an hour back. last night we were several miles away in camp." "but--you got chickens, and i was robbed last night," faltered the farmer, as though that fact impressed him as evidence that no argument could keep down. "if we could prove to you," continued mr. witherspoon, "that we came by these four fowls honestly, i hope you will be frank enough to apologize to my boys for unjustly suspecting them of being hen thieves?" "go on then and do it, mister; but i warn you i'm sot in my ways, and hard to convince. it's got to be a mighty likely yarn that'll fotch me over." "you've lived around here some time, i take it?" asked mr. witherspoon. "man and boy forty-seven years," came the reply. "then you must know ezra brush, for he was born in the farm house he occupies to this day?" suggested the scout master. "i know ezra like a book. him and me have always been good friends, except for that boundary dispute which took us to court; but i reckon ezra don't hold no grudge agin me 'cause i won out. "we had mr. brush sitting beside our campfire for two hours last night, while i told him all about the things boy scouts are taught. he means to have his three boys join the troop at the next meeting; for he knows now that if his little jim and some of his companions had been scouts, the boy's life in all probability would have been saved last summer." "it might have been," admitted the farmer, "if them other lads had knowed what to do, but before a man got there it was too late. and ezra certainly sot some store by that bright-faced little jim; everybody keered for him, he was so winnin' in his ways." "well," continued mr. witherspoon with a smile, for he was certain of his ground by this time, and the whip hung listlessly alongside the farmer's leg; "we made so good an impression on mr. brush that early this morning his man bill came over with a basket, and also this note. please read it, sir." he placed the paper in the other's hand; and leaning down so that the waning light of the setting sun might fall on the writing the farmer seemed to take in the contents of the note. when he looked up he no longer scowled, but let his eyes rove around at the faces of the scouts, all filled with eager anticipation. "well, i was wrong to say what i did, i owns up," he commenced, making a wry face, as though it was rather an unusual thing for him to admit being anything but right; "and since i promised to apologize to ye, boys i'm ready to do it. chickens all looks alike after they've been plucked and the heads cut off; but 'cordin' to what that note reads these here are brush fowls and not from the perkins coop." mr. witherspoon nodded his head, and his eyes twinkled. "are you satisfied to accept mr. perkins' apology, boys, in the same spirit in which it is given?" he asked, looking at his charges. of course there was an immediate response, and in the affirmative too. boys are not apt to harbor any deep resentment, once the accusation is withdrawn. "there, you see these boys are not the ones to hold it against you, mr. perkins," the scout master continued. "did you see the thieves who were in your hen house last night, mr. perkins?" asked tom, as though he had some object in making the inquiry. "wall, no, though i heard the racket when my chickens got to squawkin', and run to the coop with a gun; but the pesky rascals had cleared out with half a dozen of my best young fowls. i reckoned to larn where they was, and i'm on my way to town right now with a load of stuff, meanin' to make a few inquiries in the mornin'." he grinned as he fumbled at the pocket of his coat. "what have you got there, mr. perkins?" asked tom. "it's a boy's cap as was left in my coop last night," declared the farmer; "and a queer lookin' one at that. guess they might tell me who it fits in lenox." every eye was focused on the cap which he held up. it was indeed of an odd color, and very likely the only one of the kind in that section. josh kingsley laughed out loud. "guess we ought to know that cap, fellows!" he exclaimed. "the last time i saw the same it was perked on the red head of tony pollock." chapter xvi what to do in a storm "would you mind letting me see that cap for a minute, mr. perkins?" asked the leader of the black bear patrol. the farmer seemed to hesitate as though loth to let his only evidence go out of his hand; but after one good look at the smiling countenance of tom chesney apparently he felt ashamed of suspecting that so clean-looking a boy could mean to deceive him in any way. so he passed the head-gear over. knowing that tom must have some object in making this request the other scouts pushed closer and watched eagerly. they saw him turn the cap partly inside out. "i thought as much," tom remarked laughingly, at the same time carefully picking several tiny objects up, which he held before the eyes of the admiring farmer, who had doubtless never before heard of such a thing as "scoutcraft." "look for yourself, mr. perkins," tom said exultantly; "you will have no difficulty in recognizing these as fiery red hairs. the boy mentioned by my chum here, has a brick-top like that. i should say the evidence is about as conclusive as anything could be." mr. perkins' mouth had opened wide. he was apparently thunder-struck by the cleverness displayed by this stripling in clinching the guilt of the party who had stolen his spring chickens. "tell me his name again, bub," he said turning to josh; "i calc'late makin' it some warm for him unless i gets pretty good pay for them fowls." "his name is tony pollock," he was told with a grin, for somehow josh seemed to be tickled over the retribution that was likely to overtake the boy who had for so long a time acted as a bully in lenox. after some talk the farmer withdrew, taking with him his evidence in the shape of the queer checked cap, and also the best wishes of the assembled scouts, who gave him a cheer as he drove away. he had even promised to drop around at a couple of their houses with messages hastily scribbled, to the effect that the boys were very well, and having the time of their lives. needless to say that those who sent these were the tender feet of the troop. horace and billy, who imagined that their respective mothers must be lying awake nights in mortal fear lest something dreadful had happened to the heretofore pampered darlings. most of the other boys were accustomed to being away from home, and prided themselves on being able to show the spirit of veteran campers. the fowls turned out to be the peer of any the boys had ever tasted. indeed with the chicken cooked a delicate brown by those in charge, and seasoned with the keen appetites a day in the open air is apt to give a boy, that supper must always linger in their memories as a bright spot never to be excelled. by now the greenhorns would be getting more accustomed to seeing the woods all around them, and probably sleep better than they did before. the second night in camp always does find everybody feeling more at ease, and settling down for a good rest. they had no reason to find fault with anything that happened to them after the departure of mr. perkins. the stars came out in the heavens and there was apparently no sign of rain. to satisfy the more timid boys, tom and rob shaefer had started on a brush shanty, which they so far completed that it could be changed into a fair shelter by making use of their rubber ponchos. it was not really needed, though several of the boys chose to make up their beds under its arched roof, mentioning that they might feel the dew if it happened to prove heavy. again they prepared breakfast, and then started off with a day's tramp ahead of them that would differ in many respects from anything as yet encountered. this was because they expected to strike boldly up the side of the massive mountain that reared its head far above them, its slopes covered for the most part with a heavy growth of timber. this, however, thinned out the nearer one came to the summit, which in turn was composed of bald rocks, grim and silent, save when some eagle gave its shrill scream from a projecting crag. they took their last look at the little road, and then tom led the way into the heart of the wild growth. just as they had anticipated it was a great deal more difficult going now, for there was no trail save an occasional cowpath which might lead down to the creek, or anywhere else; and to which, for this reason, they could not pay any attention. when noon came there was a loud call for a halt. while every boy was too proud to confess that his muscles were beginning to feel sore from the continual strain, he tried pretty hard to find some plausible excuse for wanting to make a good long halt. while they were eating and fanning themselves, for it was very warm, walter douglass noticed tom glancing off toward the southwest. upon looking in that direction himself he burst out with an exclamation: "it's going to strike us this time, boys, as sure as anything!" "what another irate farmer?" cried josh, laughingly. "whatever have the scouts been doing this time to raise trouble? we've been accused of trespassing, and stealing chickens; p'raps they'll try to make out we have evil designs on some country bank." "it looks like a storm," admitted tom; upon which billy button began to stare at the clouds in plain sight, and horace seemed to be listening anxiously to catch the first distant mutter of thunder in the air. "if you are all through eating," said mr. witherspoon, "perhaps we had better move out of this. i'm not the best judge of such things, but i think we could find a better spot than this to stay during the storm." "there! listen to that, will you?" exclaimed george as they heard a heavy boom that seemed to throb on the heavily charged air like the roar of a monster siege gun. horace was looking a little pale, though he set his teeth hard together, and apparently had made up his mind to at least refrain from showing the white feather, no matter how frightened he felt. they did up their packs, keeping the rubber ponchos out, according to the advice of the patrol leader. "at the worst we can put our heads through the slit in the center," he explained to them; "and then it serves as a waterproof to keep the upper part of you dry. but perhaps we can find an overhanging shelf of rock under which all of us can crawl." "but how about that fine big tree yonder, couldn't we take shelter under that?" asked horace, pointing to a massive oak with wide-spreading branches that made a canopy through which even a downpour of rain could hardly penetrate. "never!" tom told him hastily. "a tree standing apart like that is always one of the most dangerous places you can select when seeking shelter from an electrical storm. far better stay out and take your little soaking than to take chances in a barn, or under an isolated tree. in the forest it is not so bad, where there are hundreds of trees; but then you ought to be careful which one you select. lightning loves a shining mark, you know." "but that big tree has stood for one or two hundred years and never been hit by lightning," objected horace, who could not understand exactly. "so have others that i've seen shattered to fragments," mr. witherspoon told him, "but their time came at last, and without warning. we can't afford to accept the risk. there is only one safe way, and that is to avoid dangerous places." the thunder grew louder with every peal. there were vivid flashes of lightning, too, each of which caused horace to start and close his eyes, though he bravely suppressed the groan that seemed ready to burst from his lips. tom, as well as mr. witherspoon, josh and rob shaefer, was constantly on the lookout for some sign of shelter. the ground seemed to favor the possibility of finding something in the line of overlapping lines of rock, which, forming a mushroom ledge, would screen them from the violence of the expected downpour. after all, the honor of making the discovery went to carl. "look over yonder between those bushes, sir; doesn't that seem to be about the kind of place you're after?" he called out, clutching the scout master by the arm. so impressed was mr. witherspoon by what he saw that he immediately directed all of his charges to make for the spot pell-mell. the first big drops were coming down as they arrived, to find that, sure enough, the ledges of stone cropped out as much as six or seven feet. "crawl under wherever you can find a good place, and lie quiet!" ordered the scout master; and in several detachments they proceeded to get out of the rain, now commencing to fall heavily. the wind rushed through the branches with a furious shriek; the thunder crashed; they heard several trees fall under the strain; and then without warning came a blinding flash, with a terrific ear-splitting roar of thunder accompanying it. horace, who with a number of others was in the cavity tom had chosen, shrank close to the leader of the black bear patrol. "oh, tom!" he cried, when his voice could be heard, "didn't that sound right from where that magnificent big oak tree stood that i wanted to get under?" "just what it did!" josh kingsley told him, vehemently, while tom said: "we'll investigate after the storm is over, horace; but right now i'm of the opinion your fine oak is lying shattered into fragments by the bolt that fell!" chapter xvii the landslide "whether that's so or not," said the trembling horace, "i feel that i've learned a lesson. i own up that i'm terribly afraid of lightning; but after this i'm going to face it, even if i have to lie out in the storm, rather than take chances." it became difficult to carry on any sort of conversation, what with all the racket around them. the wind blew, the rain fell in sheets, and the thunder boomed so continuously that one deep-toned roll hardly died away before there would come another crash that made everybody start. still they were a thankful lot of boys as they lay under the ledges and counted the minutes creep past. "we've managed to keep our jackets tolerably dry after all," announced josh, at a time when there happened to be a little slackening of the gale; "and that's what everybody couldn't have done under the same conditions." "well, i should say not," another scout declared; "i know lots of fellows who think themselves extra smart around town, and yet put them up here and they'd either have been knocked out hiding under a tree that was struck, or else soaked through to the skin." "it takes scouts to figure things out when the supreme test comes," said josh. "yes, _some_ scouts," added felix, drily; as much as to tell josh not to plume himself too highly, because this was not his bright thought. a more terrific peal of thunder than any they had yet heard except that one outburst, stopped their talking for a brief time. "i really believe the old storm is coming back to try it all over again!" cried billy button, in dismay. "they often seem to do that," remarked another boy. "that has puzzled me more'n i can tell. what's the explanation, mr. witherspoon?" "well, as near as i can say," replied the scout master, "it's something like this. most storms have a regular rotary movement as well as their forward drift. on that account a hurricane at sea has a core or center, where there is almost a dead clam." "yes, i've read about that," interrupted josh. "sea captains always mention it when they've found themselves in the worst of a big blow. it slackens up, and then comes on again worse than ever." "but always from exactly the opposite quarter," the scout master continued. "you can see how this is, for the wind coming from the east up to the time the core of the gale strikes them, is from the west after the center has passed by. we may be about to get the other side of this little storm now." "listen to it roaring, up on the mountain?" cried horace. "i wonder what those other fellows are doing about now?" josh was heard to say, in a speculative way. "of course you mean tony pollock and his crowd," observed tom. "unless they've been as lucky as we were they're feeling pretty damp ground this time. still tony is a shrewd fellow, and may have discovered some sort of shelter before the downpour came." "i hope so," horace went on to say, for he was not at all cruel by disposition; "because i wouldn't want a dog to be out in this blow, much less boys i've known all my life, even if they have been an ugly lot." there was a short interval of violent downpour. then all at once the storm again slackened, and soon the rain ceased. horace had been whispering to tom, and the pair of them now started to crawl out from under the shelter. "where are you going, tom?" asked josh, wondering what the strange move meant. "just mean to take a little walk over here," was the reply; "we'll be back in a few minutes. horace is curious to see if it was the big oak that was struck." "i'll go along, if you don't object," said the always ready josh. "me too," called out a second scout. accordingly several of them followed tom and horace out from under the ledges. there were at least six in the group that hurried along toward the spot where the splendid oak had been noticed an hour before. they were compelled to pick their way along, for little streams of water flowed in almost every direction; besides, the trees were shedding miniature niagaras that would be very unpleasant if received in the back of the neck by any one passing underneath. in this fashion they neared the place. every boy was keenly on the lookout. "why, i don't see anything at all of the tree, and yet it certainly stood high above those smaller ones over there!" exclaimed horace, presently, with a curious little quiver of awe in his voice. ten seconds later they had advanced far enough to pass the barrier formed by those lesser forest trees. then the entire group of scouts came to a sudden stop and simply stared. horace even rubbed his eyes as if he half believed he might be dreaming. the big oak was gone! where it had stood they saw a shattered trunk not more than twenty feet high. upon the ground in every direction lay torn and twisted limbs and smaller branches, just as they had been violently hurled when that terrible electric bolt struck with such amazing force. "whew!" gasped josh, "there's an object lesson for you, horace!" "it's the same for each one of us," added tom, gravely; "and for every scout who ever hears of it." "supposing we had taken refuge under that fine old oak," suggested felix, with a shrug of his shoulders; "not one of us would have ever known what hit him." "i've seen all i want to, tom; let us go back," said horace, who looked rather white by now. "besides, i think it's going to pour down again shortly." "that's right," added another scout; "you can hear it coming over there. everybody scoot for the home base." they lost no time in retracing their steps, and just managed to reach the friendly shelter of the ledges when the rain did come down, if anything harder than ever. "there'll be a big boom in the river after this!" remarked felix, when the rain had been falling in a deluge for ten minutes. "i think it must be next door to what they call a cloud burst; wouldn't you say so, mr. witherspoon?" asked another boy. "it seems like it," he was told by the scout master. "meantime we ought to be very thankful we're so well provided for. no danger of being floated away this far up on the mountain. but the rain is going to stop presently." "getting softer already!" announced the watchful josh. "i didn't have any chance to ask you about the big oak?" mr. witherspoon continued. "there isn't any," remarked felix; "only a wreck that would make you hold your breath and rub your eyes." "then it was struck by that terrible bolt, was it?" asked the scout master. "smashed, into flinders," replied josh. "you never in all your life saw such a wreck, sir." "we'll all take a glance at it before we leave this place," the leader of the hiking troop told them. "but from the way things look there's a good chance we may think it best to put in the night right here, where we can be sure of a dry place for sleeping." "that strikes me as a good idea, sir," said tom, promptly, for he had been considering proposing that very plan himself, though of course he did not see fit to say so now. "all i hope is that the river doesn't sweep away a part of lenox," one of the boys was heard to say. "you remember that years ago, before any of us can remember, they had a bad flood, and some lives were lost." "oh yes, but that was in the spring," explained josh, "when the heavy snows melted, and what with ten days of rain the ground couldn't take up any more water. it's a whole lot different in june. besides, we've been having it pretty hot and dry lately, remember, and the earth can drink up a lot of water." "still, you never can tell what a flood will do," george was heard to say; but as they all understood his way of looking at the worst side of things none of the other boys took much stock in his gloomy predictions. "we must hustle to find some dry wood, so as to cook our supper, and keep warm afterwards," felix told them. "leave us alone to do that," josh announced. "no matter how hard it has been raining you can always get plenty of dry stuff out of the heart of a stump or a log. and thank goodness we brought an ax along with us." "say, did you feel anything then?" called out one of the other boys. "seemed to me the rocks might be trembling as they did when it thundered extra loud. there it goes again! get that, fellows?" they certainly did, and a thrill of wonder and sudden anxiety passed over them when the trembling sensation became even more pronounced. then they realized that a strange rumbling sound had arisen. it came from further up the mountain, and yet drew rapidly closer, increasing in intensity, until it began to assume the proportions of a terrible roaring, while the rocks vibrated in a sickening way. "oh! it must be an earthquake!" shrilled one scout, in alarm. "lie still, everybody!" shouted mr. witherspoon; "don't think of crawling out. it's a landslide coming down the side of the mountain!" chapter xviii camping on the lake shore for several minutes the scouts lay there and fairly held their breath in the grip of that sudden fear that had come upon them. as the rumbling noise and the sickening sensation of the rock trembling under them passed away they regained in some degree their former confidence. "the worst is over, i think," said mr. witherspoon; "but we'll stay where we are a while longer." content to abide by his judgment, and glad that they had escaped being caught in that avalanche of earth and rocks, the boys kept quiet until finally, as there was no repetition of the landslide, they were allowed to issue forth. investigation showed them where the slip had occurred. some fault in the formation of the mountain side had allowed it to happen, the conditions being just right. later on the rest of the scouts went over to view the wrecked oak, bringing back some of the splinters of wood to use in making the fire they expected to have going presently. considering the two narrow escapes they had passed through recently, one from lightning and the other from the avalanche, the boys all felt that they had reason to be thankful. "you'll have some remarkable things to set down in that log book of yours for this particular day, tom," said the scout master; "and i think you can do the subject justice. i hope to read an account of this trip in print one of these days." "oh! there's a small chance of my account taking the first prize, i'm afraid mr. witherspoon," laughed the leader of the black bear patrol; "i imagine there'll be scores of competitors in the race, and plenty of them can write things just as well as i can, perhaps even better." "yes," remarked josh, "but don't forget that every account of an outing trip has to be absolutely true. no wonderful imaginary stories will be allowed in the competition, the rules said." "yes, that's just what they did state," added felix; "you've got to have things authenticated--wasn't that the word the paper used?" "attested to in due form by the scout master who accompanied the troop," mr. witherspoon explained, smiling; "and in this case i can do that with an easy conscience." "and if things keep going as they have been lately," declared another boy, "there never was and never can be a trip so crowded with interesting happenings as this same hike of lenox troop over big bear mountain." the fire was made without any particular trouble, just as josh and some of the others had predicted. the boys knew how to get dry fuel out of the heart of a stump, and once the fire was roaring it hardly mattered what kind of wood was used, since the heat quickly dried it out. then supper was cooked as usual, only on this occasion they dispensed with some of the conditions that were not absolutely necessary, such as having two separate fires. on the whole they managed to get on, and every one admitted he could dispose of no more when finally the meal was concluded. later on the boys sat around, and while most of them compared notes regarding their experiences during the exciting day just closed, others proceeded to attend to certain duties they did not wish to postpone any longer. as for tom chesney, it was an aim with him to write out his account of daily events while they were still fresh in his mind. he was afraid many of the little details might be forgotten if he delayed; and in the end those were what would give most of the charm to the narrative of the scout doings. the storm had passed on, and above them they saw the stars peeping out once more. long into the night the steady drip of water could be heard, telling of numerous little rivulets that still ran down the side of big bear mountain, though by morning most of these would have dried up. they slept under the friendly ledges. it was, after all was said, a pretty "rocky" bed, as josh termed it; but since the ground outside was so well soaked, and there was always more or less peril in the shape of another landslide, none of the boys complained, or expressed his feelings in more than sundry grunts. with the coming of morning the strange camp was astir, and one by one the boys painfully crawled out, to try to get some of the stiffness from their limbs by jumping around and "skylarking." about nine o'clock the hike was resumed mr. witherspoon did not think it advisable to go on up the mountain any further after that avalanche; he believed they would have just as good a time passing around the base, and in the end making a complete circuit of the high elevation. the day turned out to be a delightful one after the storm. it seemed as though the air had been purified, and even in the middle of the day it was not unpleasantly warm. "we ought to make that little lake by the afternoon, oughtn't we, tom?" the scout master asked, as he plodded along at the side of the patrol leader. another consultation of the map tom carried followed, and it was decided that they must be within a half a mile of the water. ten minutes later josh declared he had caught a glimpse of the sun shining on dancing wavelets; and shortly afterwards a sudden turn brought them in full view of the pond. it was hardly more than that, covering perhaps ten acres; but the boys declared they had never set eyes on a prettier sight as they arrived on the near shore, and proceeded to make a camp there. "if we only had a canoe up here what a great time we'd have fishing," said josh, who was particularly fond of casting a fly for a trout or bass, and scorned to use the humble angleworm, as ordinary fishermen do. "what's the matter with taking a log and straddling the same?" asked tom. "three of us could manage it, one to troll with a spoon, another to cast near the shore and the third to paddle the log." "let's try that in the morning," suggested josh, eagerly; "it's too late in the day to have any great luck now. but i like the looks of that pond--and i think we might get a good string of fish from it, if the wind's right." that night their fire glowed upon the border of the water. it was a new experience, and the boys, seeing tom busily engaged in writing, told him to do full justice to the theme, for it deserved to be recorded exactly in the way they saw it. it was a comfortable night they spent by the pond, in sharp contrast to the preceding one when flattened out under the rocky ledges. every one got a good sound night's sleep, so that when morning came they were in prime condition for the work of the day. "we'll stay here to-day and not go on for another twenty-four hours," decided the scout master, as they sat around eating breakfast. "for one i'm glad to hear that," said felix; "i can hike as well as the next fellow; but just the same when i'm off for pleasure i don't like to keep moving all the time. this suits me first-rate. then i expect to do some paddling when we find the right sort of a log, with josh at the bow casting his flies, and tom at the stern trolling his phantom minnow along." the log needed was easily found, and was rolled down, to be launched in the pond. a rude paddle was also cut, with the aid of the ax and a sharp knife. felix declared he could make it answer the purpose; so presently the enterprising scouts composing the fishing party went forth, followed by the best wishes of their mates. "fix it so we have a fish dinner to-night, fellows!" billy button called out. "if you're wise you'll not make up your mouth that way; then there's no danger of being disappointed," said george. "i never expect anything, and so i meet with pleasant surprises once in a while." perhaps since the days of old robinson crusoe a more remarkable fishing party never started out than that one. the three boys had taken off shoes and socks, and rolled up their trousers above their knees. straddling the log, felix used his paddle, and, sure enough, the clumsy craft moved along fast enough to answer their desires. tom let out his line and trolled, while josh began to cast with great animation, sending his trailing flies close to the shore, and drawing them toward him in fine style. presently he struck and managed to land a fair-sized bass. then tom caught a larger one on his imitation minnow. the fun began to wax furious, so that once both the anglers chanced to be busily engaged with fish they had hooked at the same time. it was while this was going on, and their string had already reached respectable proportions, that the boys on the log heard a sound far away, up on the side of the mountain, which caused josh to exclaim: "that's a pack of dogs yapping, and they're hot on the track of some sort of game, too! it may be only a poor little cottontail, but we'll soon know, for they're heading straight in our direction. whew! listen to the yelps they give!" "there's something in the lake over yonder, and coming this way, too!" exclaimed felix "can it be a muskrat, tom, do you think, swimming on top of the water?" "not much it isn't!" cried josh from the bow of the novel craft; "it's a deer i tell you, a stag with half-grown antlers, taking to the water to escape from the hounds." chapter xix friends of the deer "yes, its a buck," announced tom, as a shout from the camp told that one of the other scouts had also discovered the swimming animal. "whew! there come the dogs along the shore!" cried felix, pointing as he spoke to where a number of swiftly-moving objects could be seen. "they've taken to the water after the deer!" exclaimed josh. "it'll be a shame if they manage to catch up with the poor thing in the pond!" felix declared; "we ought to break that game up somehow. isn't there a way?" "if we had a canoe instead of a log we might get between, and keep the dogs back," he was told by the patrol leader; "but i'm afraid we'll never be able to make it at this rate." felix had started paddling furiously even while the other was speaking. the novel craft began to move through the water much faster than at any previous time. it was really surprising how much speed it could show, when driven by that stout, if homely, paddle, held in the hands of a muscular and excited scout. tom gave directions as though he were the pilot, and while the swimming buck certainly saw them approaching he must have considered that these human enemies were not to be feared one-half as much as those merciless hounds following after him, for he swerved very little. "we're going to cut in between the deer and the dogs after all, boys!" cried the delighted josh, who was bending his body with every movement of the paddler, as though he hoped to be able in that fashion to assist the drive. "it's a pity we didn't think to bring another paddle along!" was tom's comment, "for that would have added considerably to our progress." as it was, however, they managed to intervene between the hounds and the frightened buck. josh waved both arms, and shouted threateningly at the eager dogs. they possibly did not know what to make of it, for as a rule their masters probably tempted them to chase a deer even with the law against hounding in force. "keep back there, you greedy curs!" yelled josh; and as tom and felix joined in the shouting, the last mentioned also waving his flashing paddle, the swimming dogs came to a pause. whenever they made a start as though intending to sweep past the log on which the three scouts were perched, felix, waiting for some such move, paddled vigorously to head them off. this series of obstructive tactics, coupled with the demonstration made by the other boys, served to keep the hounds in check for a certain length of time. "there, he's made the shore across on the other side of the pond!" announced tom. looking that way the boys saw the harried buck hasten out of the shallow water. he turned once on the very edge to give a single glance back toward the baffled dogs, still swimming aimlessly about, and yapping in defeat, then leaped lightly into the undergrowth and vanished from sight. "good-bye!" shouted josh, waving his hand after the rescued deer, "and good luck!" the dogs by this time had managed to flank the obstruction. "no use chasing after them any more, felix," said tom; "i think the deer has a good lead on them now, and will easily make his escape." they watched the pack swim to the shore, and noted that they came out at some little distance from the spot where the buck had left the water. "that's going to delay them still more," announced tom; "they've lost the scent, and will have to chase up and down hunting for it." sure enough the hounds ran first one way with their noses to the ground, then doubled back. it was several minutes before a triumphant yelp announced that they had finally struck the lost trail. "there they go with a rush!" said josh, as the pack was seen to start off, following the course taken by the deer. their eager yelps became less distinct as they skirted around the foot of big bear mountain. "well, that was a queer happening, wasn't it?" said tom, as they prepared to resume their fishing, which had been so singularly interrupted. "it'll make an interesting event for your note book, tom," declared felix. "a deer is seldom seen around this region," josh ventured to say; "which makes our luck all the more remarkable. i wouldn't have missed that sight for a good deal!" "i saw stanley ackerman using his camera, so let's hope he got a bunch of snapshots that'll show the whole circus," felix announced. "how about allowing dogs to roam the woods up here, tom; isn't it against the law in this state nowadays?" josh asked. "it certainly is," he was informed. "for a good many years chasing deer with hounds, and using a jack-light at nights to get them, has been strictly forbidden. time was when packs of hounds used to be met with in plenty. men would start out and hunt deer that way. then the papers took it up, and showed the cruelty of the so-called sport, and it was abolished." "according to the law anybody is allowed to shoot dogs caught in the act of running deer, especially in the summer time; isn't that right, tom?" "yes, that's what we would have had a perfect right to do if we'd had a gun along. but i don't believe that pack belonged to any one man. they are dogs that have gone wild, and having gathered together in the woods, live by hunting." "i've heard that dogs do go back to the old wolf strain sometimes," josh admitted; "and now that you mention it, tom, there was a wild look about every one of the beasts. i even thought they had half a notion to attack us at one time; but the way felix kept that paddle flashing through the air cowed them, i guess." the fishing was resumed, though all this racket seemed to have caused the bass to cease taking hold for some time. by skirting the more distant shores, close to where the water grass and reeds grew, they finally struck a good ground, and were amply rewarded for the efforts put forth. "i think the bass must have their beds on this shoal here," said tom, when they paddled back over the place at which success had come to them. "it's early in the season as yet, and a lot of them are still around here. they haven't gone out into deep water with their newly-hatched young ones." "is that what they do?" asked felix, who was not as much of a fisherman as either of his chums. "well, not immediately after the eggs hatch," tom told him. "the mother bass is going to keep her swarm of little ones in shallow water, and guard them until they get to a certain size. then she darts in among them, scatters the whole lot, after which she is done with them. they have reached an age when they must take their chances." when finally about noon the three came ashore, rather stiff from having straddled that log for such a length of time, they had a pretty fine string of fish, two of them in fact. the talk as they ate their mid-day meal was along the subject of deer hunting, and tom as well as josh had to tell all about it, as far as they knew. stanley declared he had made good use of his camera, and hoped the results would come up to expectations. all of them united in saying that it had been an adventure worth while; and apparently their sympathies were wholly with the gallant buck, for they expressed a fervent hope that he would succeed in outrunning his canine enemies. somehow in the course of the conversation mention was made of tony pollock and his crowd. "i heard tony tell a story of having seen a deer pulled down somewhere in the forest last fall by a pack of ugly dogs," related george cooper. "at the time i believed he was only yarning, though he vowed black and blue it was so. he said the dogs looked and acted so ugly that he thought it best to clear out before they turned on him." "like as not this same pack," remarked tom. "they say that once a dog has taken to that savage sort of life nothing can ever coax him to go back to living with mankind again. it's in the blood, that call of the wild." "well," chuckled josh, "we know of another kind of call of the wild that's going to be heard in the land pretty soon, when farmer sile perkins faces tony. he will demand double pay for the chickens tony and his crowd stole, on penalty of his being arrested if he doesn't whack up. oh i can just see tony begin to crawl then; and i wonder how he'll get the money." carl was saying little or nothing, and tom knew why. here they had been on the hike several days, and as yet there had arisen not a single chance for him to get in touch with dock phillips. tom understood that another spell of dark foreboding was beginning to enfold his chum. at the first opportunity he could find, tom joined carl. the latter had thrown himself down on the bank some distance away from the camp, where he could be in the shade, and yet look out on the sunlit water, which just then had a most attractive aspect. "you're worrying again because nothing has happened as we hoped would be the case, eh, carl?" was what the patrol leader said as he dropped down close to the moody scout. carl sighed heavily. "perhaps it's foolish of me, tom," he said, with a curious little break in his voice, which he tried hard to master; "but once in so often it seems as if something gripped me, and made me shiver. it's when i get to thinking what little real progress i am making that this chilly spell comes along." "yes, i can understand that," the other told him. "i did hope we might run on dock while we were up here, and either force or coax him to tell what he did with the stolen paper. he's away from the influence of mr. culpepper, you know, and if we had to come down to offering him a price to get the paper he might accept." "oh! much as i hate to have to compromise such a thing," said carl, desperately; "i believe i'd do it. anything to get that paper, for the more i think of it the stronger i believe it means everything to my mother." "well, we haven't quite got to the end of our tether yet," the patrol leader assured him. "i can't explain it, but somehow there's a feeling inside of me that tells me to keep on hoping. in some sort of fashion luck is going to turn your way. just keep up your grit, and hang on. take a lesson from the persistence of those dogs in following the deer." "yes, i suppose i ought to. i've read how wolves will keep chasing after a deer day and night, steady as dock-work, until in the end they tire it out and get their dinner." just then they heard a shout, or what was closer to a shriek. it came from beyond the camp, and was immediately followed by cries of alarm from the other scouts. "what's happened?" asked tom, as with carl he hurried to the spot to see a group approaching bearing some burden in their midst. "walt douglass fell out of a tree," replied billy button, looking very pale; "and mr. witherspoon says he's afraid it means a fractured leg, if nothing worse!" chapter xx first aid to the injured dismay seized upon most of the scouts upon realizing what a disaster had fallen upon them. tom however was not the one to forget that he had made a special study of "first aid to the injured," as had also rob shaefer. "carry him over here, where we'll make a soft bed of the blankets, and then we've got to see how badly he's hurt!" was what tom called out, hurrying on ahead to arrange things. his example seemed contagious. boys are apt to follow a leader very much as sheep will a bell-wether. everybody wanted to assist; and the feeling of panic gave way to one of confidence. scouts should be equal to any sudden emergency; and in that way prove the value of their education along the lines of usefulness. walter was groaning dismally, although trying his best to bear the pain. he looked as white as a sheet in the face. tom's first act was to force himself to appear cheerful; he knew that if all of them stared and shuddered it would have a bad effect on the injured lad. when they had made an examination tom and rob agreed that one of the bones only had been broken. "it's a painful thing, but not nearly so bad as a compound fracture would be," tom announced. "i think we can set it all right, temporarily, and then bind the leg up. in the meantime, mr. witherspoon, please make up your mind what we'd better do about getting walter home in a hurry, where the doctor can take charge of him." "i hope you won't think of giving up your hike just on account of me, fellows," said the poor walter, weakly, showing a magnanimous spirit in adversity that made his chums feel all the more admiration for him. "leave that to me," mr. witherspoon announced; "i remember seeing an old car in the yard of that house we passed some three miles back. if you boys can make some sort of stretcher for carrying walter i'll see that he gets home to-day, if i have to accompany him, and then come back again to you." this cheered the stricken lad as nothing else could have done. home just then had a most alluring look to walter. the woods may seem all very delightful when a boy is perfectly well, but let sickness or an accident put him on his back, and there is nothing like one's own home. after making some preparations, tom and rob announced that they were ready. "it's going to hurt you some, walter," said the patrol leader, regretfully; "but it's got to be done, you know. those two ends of the bone must be brought together, and after that we intend to bandage your leg the very best we know how." walter shut his teeth hard together, and seemed to prepare for the worst. "go ahead, boys," he said, grimly; "i'll have to grin and bear it, i guess. and i deserve all i'm getting for being so silly as to slip when i was climbing that tree to see what was in the hole in the trunk." he managed to stand it very bravely indeed, though the agony must have been intense. the other scouts heaved a sigh when they saw the amateur surgeons start to binding up the injured limb. "that's all through with, walter," said tom, cheerily, "and you stood it like a soldier, we'll all declare. just as soon as that litter is done you're going to be carried back to that house, if it takes every one of us to do the job." josh and some of the others had been busily engaged trying to construct a suitable litter. fortunately they had learned how this should be done, for it is one of the duties of every boy scout to know this. with the ax they cut a couple of stout poles about eight feet in length. these were to constitute the sides, and would form the handles, each one to be in charge of a scout. a blanket was arranged across these in such a manner that there would not be the slightest danger of its slipping, after the two poles had been held a certain distance apart with a couple of cross-pieces. when finally the litter was completed it was pronounced first-class by every one. "i'm proud of the way you boys grapple with an emergency," said mr. witherspoon, enthusiastically. "you're all a credit to the organization to which you belong. i mean that your light shall not be kept under a bushel, for this is an example worthy of being spread abroad, and copied by other scouts." the next thing was to lift walter to the litter, which was done without giving the poor fellow much pain. he seemed so grateful for every little thing they did for him, and looked so pitiful lying there that tender-hearted billy button was observed to hurriedly rush away, pretending that he wanted to wash his hands down at the water, when they all knew the tears had been welling up in his eyes. "it's going to be no easy task getting him all the way back to that house," said mr. witherspoon, "especially over such rough ground as we've struck. four will be needed to work at a time, and they'll have to be relieved often, so perhaps we had better all go along save one scout, who can stay to look after the camp." "let billy stay," said josh; "he was complaining of a stone bruise on his heel, and would be better off here than taking that six mile tramp." so it was decided that billy button should remain in the camp. he did not look as if he enjoyed the prospect very much. "no wild animals around here to bother you, billy," josh assured him, when they were prepared to make the start. "you forget those dogs, i guess," billy told him; "they must be pretty mad at us for holding them up. what must i do if they take a notion to come back and threaten to eat me up?" "oh! the easiest thing for you to try," josh told him, "would be to shin up this tree here, and wait for us to rescue you. we've hung our grub up so nothing can get hold of it. but don't worry, billy; there isn't one chance in ten that the dogs'll come back this way." it was a strange procession that left the camp. stanley took a picture of the litter bearers so they would have something to remember the occurrence by; and walter had so far recovered from the shock and the acute pain as to be able to raise his head, so that he might appear in the scene as the object of all this excitement. billy saw them depart, and then turned his attention to other things. being left in full charge of the camp he had a sense of responsibility resting upon him, such as he had never experienced before. it would take them perhaps two full hours going that distance with the injured boy, because great care would be required in picking the easiest way. of course the return journey would be made in half that time. altogether three hours might elapse, even with the best of luck, before the main body of scouts could be expected back; and billy had been told that they would depend on him to get supper started. it was fine to see how very careful the litter bearers were as they pushed along the back trail. one would go ahead to lead the way, and so avoid any unusually rough places as much as possible. every boy looked well to his footing, since any sort of jolt, such as would accompany a stumble, was apt to cause walter unnecessary pain. their progress was necessarily somewhat slow. tom said that was one of the times when it paid to be sure rather than to try to make speed. and from the fact that not once did they cause poor walter to give a groan it could be seen that these careful litter-bearers fulfilled their duty fully as well as red cross or hospital attendants could have done. the two hours and more had passed before they came to the house at which mr. witherspoon had remembered seeing a car. it turned out that the man who lived there was doing so for his health. he wanted to be in a quiet place on account of shattered nerves. when he learned what had happened he told them he would gladly take the injured scout to his home, and that there was room also for mr. witherspoon, whom he would bring back with him again. the splendid manner in which the scouts had managed, both with regard to doing up the fractured limb, and in making that litter, excited the man's admiration; and he felt that he could not do too much for those self-reliant lads. "such work should be encouraged by every right-thinking man or woman," he told them; "and after you've all had a cup of hot coffee, which my wife is getting ready right now, we'll be off." of course all of them were feeling much more cheerful, now that they knew the hike would not have to be abandoned on account of this accident. some of the boys had begun to fear this would be the result. "when i get back here from town," mr. witherspoon told them, "it is apt to be late, and i'll be too tired to try that three miles over rough ground. so i've made arrangements to stay here over-night with our good friends. in the morning after breakfast i'll start off along the trail for the camp. of course it would be nice if several of you met me half way there." "we'll be only too glad to do that, sir," josh told him; for mr. witherspoon had by this time firmly entrenched himself in the affections of his boys, who believed him to be the best scout master any troop had ever boasted, barring none. after seeing the car start, and giving walter a rousing send-off that must have done his heart good, the rest of the boys concluded to turn their faces toward the camp. "three hours will seem an age to billy button," said horace, who was feeling quite proud of the fact that he had been chosen as one of the litter-bearers. "oh! he'll have plenty to do cleaning all those fish we caught this morning, and some other odd jobs i gave him," remarked josh, carelessly. "billy is inclined to be timid," felix observed, loftily; "and it's a good thing, for him to be left alone once in a while. nothing like making a scout feel he's just got to depend on himself for things." the three miles was soon covered by the returning eight scouts. "i can see smoke ahead!" announced josh presently. "yes, and there's the pond shining in the light of the sun," added felix. "isn't that our chum, billy, waving his hands to us?" asked george. "looks as if he wanted us to hurry up some. i wonder what's happened now?" "oh! he's only anxious for us to join him," said carl; "perhaps he made a mistake in the time we were to be back, and he's gone and cooked all the fish." it was soon seen, however, that the guardian of the camp had a good reason for his excitement. his face bore a troubled expression, it struck tom, when he drew near the camp. "anything gone wrong here billy?" he asked. "i should say there had, tom!" he burst out with. "why, would you believe it, some miserable tramps raided the camp, and got away with most of our stuff!" chapter xxi scout grit "tell us how it happened, billy!" said the patrol leader, when the clamor of excited voices partly died away, giving him a chance to make himself heard. "yes, what did they do to you, billy?" demanded josh, noticing that the other did not seem to be limping, or showing any other signs of having met with rough treatment at the hands of the camp raiders. "why, it was this way," billy hastened to explain. "you see i was down by the water cleaning all those fish at the time. guess i must have been pretty much a whole hour at the job. and i'd just about finished when i thought i heard somebody give a sneeze, which made me get up off my knees and look around." "and did you see the tramps in camp cleaning things out then?" asked felix. "well, no, not exactly," replied billy; "the most i thought i saw was something moving in the bushes on the other side of the camp; and yes, it was just like a laugh too that i caught." "what did you do?" asked josh. "i wondered if those wild dogs had come back," said the guardian of the camp, "and the first thing i thought to do was to put the pan of fish i'd cleaned up in the crotch of a tree. then i went to the camp, and oh! my stars i but it was in an _awful_ mess, with things flung around, and most of our eatables taken, as well as the frying-pan and coffee-pot!" "oh! that's sure the limit!" groaned josh. "we'll never be able to keep on our hike with nothing to eat or drink, and not a pan to cook stuff in, even if we bought it from the farmers. it spells the end, fellows!" "yes," echoed george, always seeing the worst side of things, "we'll have to go back to town like dogs with their tails between their legs, and have all the other fellows make fun of us." "hold on there, fellows, don't show the white feather so easily," said tom, who was looking very determined. "do you mean there's any chance for us to keep going, after our things have been taken in this way?" demanded george. "well, we can talk that over to-night, and then see what mr. witherspoon has to say about it when he joins us in the morning," tom told him. "as for me, i'd be willing to go on half rations rather than own up beat. how do we know but that this raid on our stuff was made just to force us to give up our hike?" "why, how could that be?" asked billy button, wonderingly. "and why would hoboes want that to happen?" added george. "when billy says they were tramps he's only jumping to conclusions," tom explained, "he doesn't know a thing about it, because he owns up he failed to get even a single look at the thieves. i've got my own opinion about this thing." "meaning you believe you know who the fellows were?" questioned carl. "stop and think--who would like nothing better than to put us in a hole? don't we happen to know that tony pollock and his crowd are around here on big bear mountain somewhere? didn't they rob that hen roost of mr. perkins?" "tom, i really believe you're right!" exclaimed josh, beginning to look at the matter from the standpoint taken by the patrol leader. "we can soon settle that part of it!" declared rob shaeffer. "by hunting for their tracks, and finding out how many thieves there were," tom went on to say. "come on billy, and show me just where you saw the bushes moving when that laugh struck you." he called upon the others to keep back so that they might not spoil any tracks to be found at that particular spot. a very little search showed the boys what they so eagerly sought. "here are tracks enough, and all heading away from the camp," said the patrol leader presently, "let's see how we can classify them, for every footprint will be different from the others." "here's one that is square across the toe," announced josh, instantly. "and say, seems to me i remember asa green always wears shoes like that. now wedge mcguffey has got broad shoulders and spindle legs, and he wears a pointed shoe like the one that made these tracks." "here's another that's got a patch across the toe," said felix. "couldn't mistake that shoe, no matter where you saw it. a fellow could be hung on such circumstantial evidence as that." "and here's a fourth that's different from any of the rest," continued tom, as he pointed downward, "so it looks as if there were just four in the bunch, which you may remember corresponds with the number in tony pollock's crowd, now that dock phillips has thrown his lot in with them." some of the scouts expressed their indignation loudly as they investigated the results of the daring raid. it would not have been pleasant for tony and his cronies had they been brought face to face with the angry scouts about that time. tom chesney soon had reason to admit that he had met with a personal loss that bothered him exceedingly. "they've even taken my little diary in which i've been keeping an accurate account of our entire trip," he announced; "though what good that could do them i'm at a loss to understand." "oh! they just believed it would make you feel bad," explained carl; "and that would tickle tony, he's such a mean sort of fellow. perhaps he expects to read it out to the others while they sit by their fire, and then throw it away. i hope you can write it all over again, tom." "too bad!" declared josh, "when you went to such trouble to jot everything down just as it happened, thinking you might take that prize offered for the best true account of a hike by scouts." "i'll make sure to write this latest adventure out while it's fresh in my mind," remarked tom, bent on making the best of a bad bargain. "well," observed felix, "all i hope is that we decide not to give up the ship for such a little thing as being without provisions. it'll make us hustle some to lay in a supply; but, after all, the experience is going to be a great thing for us." "and if it comes to a vote," added horace, showing unexpected stamina in this emergency; "count on my voice being raised against giving up. why, i'm just getting interested in this game, and i find it pretty exciting." "just what i say!" echoed josh. "and i!" came from every one of the others, without even the exception of poor billy, who seemed to feel that he might be mostly to blame because the raid on the camp had been conducted while he was in charge. tom smiled on hearing so unanimous an expression of opinion. he knew that even such an apparent catastrophe as had befallen them was not going to cause these gallant fellows to "take water." "how long ago was it that the raid took place, billy?" asked josh, as though a sudden idea had struck him. "oh! i should say about an hour or more," replied the other, after thinking it over. "i suppose they watched the camp for a while to make sure i was the only one around. then when they saw me so busy down there by the pond they just started to root. they may have been poking around half an hour, for all i know; i was keeping my eyes on my work and thinking of poor walter." "tom, would it pay us to follow them right now?" demanded josh, while his eyes sparkled with the spirit of retaliation, as though he could picture them pouncing on the spoilers of the camp, and making them pay dearly for their frolic. the patrol leader, however, shook his head in the negative, much to the disappointment of the impetuous josh. "in the first place they were apt to hurry off," said tom. "then they might even try to blind their trail, though i don't believe any of them know much of the indian way of doing that. but the sun will soon set, and it grows dark early along the northeast side of big bear mountain you know." "yes," added george, always ready with an objection, "and some of us feel a little tired after all we've gone through with to-day." "we'd better leave that until mr. witherspoon joins us in the morning," concluded tom. "of course that wouldn't prevent a couple of scouts following the trail a bit while breakfast was cooking, and saving us that much trouble later on." "the next thing for us to see about is how under the sun will we cook all these delicious bass billy's got ready?" remarked felix. "oh! i forgot to tell you they missed one frying-pan," remarked billy, exultantly; "it chanced to be hanging from a nail i drove in a tree, and they couldn't have seen it. by making relays we can do our cooking in that." "besides, we're two shy of our original number," added horace. "what would we have done without any skillet at all, tom?" asked billy. "oh! there are ways of doing it by heating a flat stone, and cooking the fish on that," replied tom. "then some old hunters who won't bother to carry a frying-pan into the woods with them manage by toasting the meat or fish at the end of a long sliver of wood. given the fish and a hot fire, the fellow who couldn't invent some way of cooking would deserve to go hungry." "that's right," agreed josh. "and everybody notice that it's going to take more than a little thing like this to stall the scouts who are up to their business." indeed, there did seem to be an unusual spirit of animation among the boys that evening. every fellow was anxious to assist in getting supper ready, so that after all it began to look at one time like a case of "too many cooks spoiling the broth." when the first batch of fish had been browned they were kept hot on a clean stone close to the fire while the other lot was cooked. as their supply of coffee had gone together with numerous other things, the boys had to drink cold water for supper. loud were the lamentations over this. "the smell of coffee, bacon, or fried onions is what always makes it seem like camping out," declared josh, sadly; "and now we haven't got a single one of those lovely things left. our breakfast is going to be a pretty limited one; and as for other meals to-morrow, where they are going to come from is a question i'd like somebody to settle." "listen," said tom. "i'm going to get you up at daylight, josh." "me? what for? do we have to start in fishing that early, or else go hungry?" "i want you to go along with me, that's all, josh." "along--where to, may i ask?" continued the other scout, wonderingly. "back to where we took walter," replied tom; "i think when that gentleman hears what's happened to us, after we tell mr. witherspoon, he might be willing to sell us some supplies, such as coffee and bacon, and even loan us an extra frying-pan, as well as some sort of tin to boil coffee in." so, after all, the boys who gathered around the camp fire that evening, after such an eventful day, did not seem to be cast down one-half as much as undoubtedly the four young rascals who had played this mean trick upon them expected would be the case. chapter xxii the cabin in the woods it was just about an hour after dawn, and the sun had hardly got started on his journey toward the zenith, when two boys in the khaki garb of scouts arrived at the house to which walter douglass had been carried on a litter. mr. witherspoon on coming out to get a breath of air before breakfast was announced was surprised and pleased to see tom and josh. "why, this is splendid of you, boys!" he remarked, as they came toward him. "of course you were anxious to know about your comrade. we got him safely home, and called the doctor, who said he would not have to set the limb again, since you scouts had done the job in first-class style. it's a feather in your cap, for he is sure to tell it everywhere. now, what makes you look so glum, josh?" that gave them a chance to explain. when the scout master heard of the latest outrage of which the tony pollock crowd had been guilty, he was much annoyed. "we thought," tom went on to say, "that perhaps by coming over here before you got started we might influence the gentleman to spare us a small amount of coffee, a strip of bacon, and some sort of tin to make the coffee in." "no harm trying," mr. witherspoon immediately remarked; "and it does you credit to have thought up such a scheme. i've found him an accommodating gentleman. if he has anything he can spare i'm sure we'll be welcome to it." when the matter was mentioned to mr. clark, he immediately offered to help them out as far as he could do so. "i can give you plenty of eggs," he said, "and enough coffee for several meals. it happens that i'm shy on bacon just now, and intended to run in to town to stock up either to-day or to-morrow, when i have my eggs to dispose of. what i can spare, you're entirely welcome to." nor would he allow them to pay a cent for what he handed over to them. "what i've heard about you boys from mr. witherspoon here has aroused my interest greatly," he told tom and josh as they were about to depart; "and i'd be glad to know more about such a splendid movement as this promises to be. you must keep me informed of your progress. i would appreciate an occasional letter. then, if it happens that your account of the outing is ever put in print, tom, remember me with a copy." "i certainly will, sir," the patrol leader promised, for he realized that the gentleman and his wife led a lonely life of it, removed from association as they were, with most of their fellows. they reached the camp in three-quarters of an hour after leaving the house, and received a noisy welcome from the rest of the boys, who gave their leaders the regular scout salute as they came into camp. then once again the affair was discussed, this time with mr. witherspoon to listen and give occasional comments. it ended in their original plan's being sustained. they would not give up, and would try to carry out the plan as arranged before the hike was started. tom had an idea that they must be near the cabin of larry henderson, the naturalist whom he had met in lenox, at the time of the snowball battle with the pollock crowd. "he gave me directions how to find his cabin," tom explained to his companions when they were discussing this matter, "and i believe we must be somewhere near there right now. i asked mr. clark, and what he could tell me only confirmed my idea." "but tom, do you think we could get some supplies from him?" asked josh. "there's a reasonable chance of that," he was told. "i understood him to say he always kept a supply of all sorts of food on hand. it was to lay in a lot that took him down to lenox that time, you know." "then goodness knows i hope we can run on his shack to-day," said felix fervently. "we want most of all coffee, potatoes, onions, bacon, ham, and, well anything that can stop the gap when ten campers are half starved." "shall we get started right away, tom?" asked george, who looked distressed, as though he had not been wholly satisfied with the amount of his breakfast. "there's nothing to delay us, since we have no tents to come down," tom told him. "every fellow fold up a blanket, and make his pack ready." "it's going to be marching in light order with us nowadays," sighed felix, "with all our good stuff stolen. that's the only compensation i can see about it." "tom, you've studied your chart good and hard, let's hope," commented josh; "so we won't run any chance of going past the place without knowing it?" "he gave me certain land marks that i couldn't very well miss seeing," explained the patrol leader. "according to my way of thinking," felix was saying, "we must be half around the foot of big bear mountain by this time." "you've got the right idea of it," admitted the one who carried the chart; "and mr. henderson's cabin isn't far away from here. that crag up on the side of the mountain was one of the things he told me about. when we can get it in a direct line with that peak up there we will be within shouting distance of his place." tom continued to keep on his guard as they pressed onward. every one was alive to the necessity of finding the cabin of the old naturalist as soon as possible. farms were so rare up here that they found they could not count on getting their supplies from such places; and the possibility of going hungry was not a pleasant prospect. after all it was an hour after noon when tom announced the fact that the several land marks which had been given to him were in conjunction. "the cabin must be around here somewheres," he said, positively. hardly had he spoken when josh was noticed to be sniffing the air in a suspicious fashion. "what is it, josh?" asked the scout master. "i smell smoke, that's all," was the answer. others could do the same, now that their attention was called to the fact. "with the breeze coming from over that way, it ought to be plain enough we must look for the cabin there," remarked tom. the further they advanced the plainer became the evidence that there was a fire of some sort ahead of them. presently they got a whiff of cooking, at which some of the hungry scouts began to sniff the air like war horses when the odor of burnt powder comes down the breeze from the battlefield. "there it is!" exclaimed one of the watchful boys, suddenly. yes, there stood a commodious cabin right in the midst of the thick woods. it was a charming site for the home of one who loved nature as much as the old naturalist did. when a vociferous shout rang forth a form was seen to come quickly to the open doorway. it was the same genial larry henderson whom some of the scouts had once rescued from the unkind assault of the bully of lenox and his crowd, as they pelted the lame man with hard ice balls. he welcomed them to his little home with a heartiness that could not be doubted, and soon a royal dinner was being prepared for the whole party. while this was being dispatched later on, the owner of the woods cabin listened to the story of the great hike over big bear mountain, as told by the boys. everything seemed to interest him very much indeed, and when last of all they told him how some unscrupulous boys had stolen most of their supplies, meaning to break up the hike, mr. henderson looked pleased. "don't let a little thing like that deter you, boys, from carrying out your original proposition," he remarked. "i can spare you all you want in the way of supplies. yes and even to a coffee-pot and an extra frying-pan. an enterprise as splendidly started as this has been must not be allowed to languish, or be utterly wrecked through the mean tricks of such scamps as those boys." he was pleased when they gave him a round of hearty cheers, such as could only spring from a group of lively, wide-awake american boys. afterwards he showed tom and some of the others many things that interested them more than words could tell. indeed, so fascinating were the various things he took the trouble to explain to them, that the scouts only wished they could stay at the cabin in the woods for a number of days, enjoying his society. it was decided that they must remain there at least until another morning, which would give them a night with the naturalist and hunter, a prospect that afforded satisfaction all around. tom soon saw that mr. henderson had something on his mind which he wished to confide to him; consequently he was not much surprised when he saw him beckon to the leader of the black bear patrol to join him. "tell mr. witherspoon to come, too, and also that bright chap you call rob," remarked the recluse. "it is a little matter that may interest you and i think it best to lay the story before you, and then let you decide for yourselves what you want to do. still, from what i've seen up to this time of your character, i can give a pretty shrewd guess what your answer will be." of course this sort of talk aroused a good deal of curiosity in both tom chesner and rob shaefer, and they impatiently awaited the coming of the scout master. "and now i'll explain," mr. henderson told them, when he found three eager pairs of eyes fastened on him. "i chanced to be about half a mile away from home an hour before noon to-day when i heard angry voices, and discovered that several persons were about to pass by, following a trail that leads straight into the worst bog around the foot of big bear mountain." "i warrant you that it must have been the four young rascals who robbed our camp, that you saw," ventured mr. witherspoon. "i know now that it was as you say," continued the other. "at the time i might have called out and warned them of the peril that lay in wait for them if they should continue along that misleading trail, but when i looked at their faces, and heard a little of the vile language they used, i determined that it would be a very unwise thing for me to let them know i lived so near." "and you allowed them to go on past, you mean, sir?" questioned mr. witherspoon. "yes, i regret to confess it now," came the reply, "but at the time it seemed to be simply ordinary caution on my part. besides, how was i to know they would pay the slightest heed to anything i might say? i did not like their looks. but since then i've had grave doubts about the wisdom of my course, and was more than half inclined to start out, lame though i am, to see whether they did get off the only safe trail, and lose themselves in the bog." "is it then so dangerous?" asked mr. witherspoon; while tom was saying to himself that perhaps the chance so ardently desired by poor carl might be coming at last. "there are places where it might be death itself to any one who got off the trail, and became bewildered. the mud is deceptive, and once one gets fast in it an hour or two is apt to see him swallowed up; nor will his fate ever be known, for the bottomless mire of the bog never discloses its secrets." tom drew a long breath. "if you will show us the way there, sir," he told the naturalist, "we will certainly accompany you." chapter xxiii into the big bog "is it worth our while to bother with that crowd, tom?" asked josh, with a look approaching disgust on his face. one lad waited to hear what reply the patrol leader would make with more or less eagerness, as his face indicated. needless to say this was carl oskamp, who had so much at stake in the matter. "there's just this about it, josh," said tom, gravely, "suppose after we arrived safely home from this splendid hike, the first thing we heard was that one or two of that crowd had been lost in the great bog up here, and it was feared they must have found a grave in the mud flats. how would we feel about it, knowing that we had had the chance given to us to stretch out a helping hand them, and had failed?" josh turned red in the face. then he made a sudden gesture which meant he was ready to throw up his hands. "huh! guess you know best," he replied, in a husky voice; "i didn't think of it that way. i'd sure hate to have such a thing on my mind nights. let's start right away then." that was the way with josh; when he had anything unpleasant to do he was always eager to get it accomplished. for that matter, however, there were others among the scouts who wished to be astir, for the words of the patrol leader had thrilled them. "what if they have gotten lost in that awful mud bog, and right now are stuck fast there, whooping for help?" suggested felix. billy button and horace looked white with the very thought. as usual george pretended to make light of the whole matter, though some of them fancied much of his disbelief was assumed, for george had a reputation to maintain. "oh! no danger of those smart alecks being caught so easy," he told them; "they could slip through any sort of bog without getting stuck. like as not we'll only have our trouble for our pains." "you can stay here at the cabin if you like, george," tom told him. that, however, was far from george's mind; if the others meant "to make fools of themselves he guessed he could stand it too"; and when they started forth george had his place in the very van. josh often said george's "bark was worse than his bite." "fortunately," said the old naturalist, "the great bog isn't more than a mile away from here, and as i've spent many a happy hour there observing the home life of the little creatures that live in its depths the ground is familiar to me." "but you still limp, i notice, sir," remarked tom; "are you sure you can make it to-day? hadn't we better try it alone?" "i wouldn't think of letting you," replied the other, hastily. "i shall get along fairly well, never fear. this limp has become more a habit with me than anything else, i must admit. but if you are ready let us start off." accordingly the entire party began to head in the direction taken by those four boys from lenox. rob and josh were keeping a close watch, and from time to time announced that those they were following had actually come along that same trail, for they could see their footprints. "you know we took note of the different prints made by their shoes," rob told some of the other boys when they expressed surprise that this should be possible, "and it's easy enough to tell them every once in a while." "they are really following my usual trail, which i always take when going to or returning from a trip," explained the hermit-naturalist, looking pleased at this manifestation of scout sagacity on the part of the trackers. tom was keeping alongside his chum carl, instead of being with those who led the procession. he had a reason for this, too; since he had seen that the other was again showing signs of nervousness. "tom," said carl in a low voice as they walked steadily onward, "do you think i may have a chance to see dock face to face, so i can ask him again to tell me what he ever did with that paper he took?" "while of course i can't say positively," was tom's steady answer, "i seem to feel that something's going to happen that will make you happier than you've been this many a long day, carl." "oh! i hope you're on the right track!" exclaimed carl, drawing a long breath, as he clutched the arm of his faithful chum. "it would mean everything to me if only i could go home knowing i was to get that paper. just think what a fine present it would be to my mother, worried half to death as she is right now over the future." "well, keep hoping for the best, and it's all going to come out well. but what's that the boys are saying?" "i think they must have sighted the beginning of the great bog," replied carl. "do you suppose mr. henderson has brought that stout rope along with the idea that it may be needed to pull any one out of the mud?" "nothing else," said tom. "he knows all about this place, and from what he's already told us i reckon it must be a terrible hole." "especially in that one spot where he says the path is hidden under the ooze, and that if once you lose it you're apt to get in deeper and deeper, until there's danger of being sucked down over your head." "it's a terrible thing to think of," declared tom; "worse even than being caught in a quicksand in a creek, as i once found myself." "how did you get out?" asked carl. "i never heard you say anything about it before, tom?" "oh! in my case it didn't amount to much," was the answer, "because i realized my danger by the time the sand was half way to my knees. i suppose if i'd tried to draw one foot out the other would have only gone down deeper, for that's the way they keep sinking, you know." "but tell me how you escaped?" insisted carl. "i happened to know something about quicksands," responded the other, modestly, "and as soon as i saw what a fix i was in i threw myself flat, so as to present as wide a surface as i could, and crawled and rolled until i got ashore. of course i was soaked, but that meant very little compared with the prospect of being smothered there in that shallow creek." "but the chances are tony and those other fellows know nothing at all about the best ways to escape from a sucking bog," ventured carl. "yes, and i can see that mr. henderson is really worried about it. he is straining his ears all the while, and i think he must be listening in hope of hearing calls for help." "but none of us have heard anything like that!" said the other. "no, not a shout that i could mention," tom admitted. "there are those noisy crows keeping up a chatter in the tree-tops where they are holding a caucus, and some scolding bluejays over here, but nothing that sounds like a human cry." "it looks bad, and makes me feel shivery," continued carl. "oh! we mustn't let ourselves think that all of them could have been caught," the patrol leader hastened to say, meaning to cheer his chum up. "they may have been smarter than mr. henderson thinks, and managed to get through the bog without getting stuck." perhaps carl was comforted by these words on the part of his chum; but nevertheless the anxious look did not leave his face. they had by this time fully entered the bog. it was of a peculiar formation, and not at all of a nature to cause alarm in the beginning. indeed it seemed as though any person with common sense could go through on those crooked trails that ran this way and that. the old naturalist had taken the lead at this point, and they could see that he kept watching the trail in front of him. from time to time he would speak, and the one who came just behind passed the word along, so in turn every scout knew that positive marks betrayed the fact of tony's crowd having really come that way. by slow degrees the nature of the bog changed. one might not notice that his surroundings had become less promising, and that the surface of the ooze, green though it was, would prove a delusion and a snare if stepped on, allowing the foot to sink many inches in the sticky mass. in numerous places they could see where the boys ahead of them had missed the trail, though always managing to regain the more solid ground. "it's getting a whole lot spooky in here, let me tell you!" admitted felix, after they had been progressing for some time. "but it's entirely different from a real swamp, you see," remarked josh; "i've been in a big one and i know." "how about that, josh; wouldn't you call a bog a swamp, too?" asked george. "not much i wouldn't," was the reply. "a swamp is always where there are dense trees, hanging vines and water. it's a terribly gloomy place even in the middle of the day, and you're apt to run across snakes, and all sorts of things like that." "well, we haven't seen a single snake so far," admitted horace. "i'm glad, too, because i never did like the things. this isn't so very gloomy, when you come to look around you, but i'd call it just desolate, and let it go at that." "black mud everywhere, though it's nearly always covered with a deceptive green scum," remarked josh, "with here and there puddles of water where the frogs live and squawk the live-long day." "i wonder how deep that mud is anyhow?" speculated george. "suppose you get a pole and try while we're resting here," suggested josh, with a wink at the scout next to him. george thereupon looked around, and seeing a pole which mr. henderson may have placed there at some previous time he started to push it into the bog. "what d'ye think of that, fellows?" he exclaimed, in dismay when he had rammed the seven foot pole down until three fourths of its length had vanished in the unfathomable depths of soft muck. "why, seems as if there wasn't any bottom at all to the thing," said felix. "of course there is a bottom," remarked the naturalist, who had been watching the boys curiously; "but in some places i've been unable to reach it with the longest pole i could manage." "have we passed that dangerous place you were telling us about, sir?" asked mr. witherspoon. "no, it is still some little distance ahead," came the reply. "if it's much worse than right here i wouldn't give five cents for their chances," declared george. "hark!" exclaimed tom just then. "what did you hear?" cried carl. "it sounded like voices to me, though some distance off, and coming from further along the trail," the patrol leader asserted. "they may be stuck in the mire and trying every way they can to get out," observed the naturalist. "let us give them a shout, boys. now, all together!" as they all joined in, the volume of sound must have been heard a mile away. hardly had the echoes died out than from beyond came loud calls, and plainly they heard the words "help, help! oh! come quick, somebody! help!" chapter xxiv returning good for evil when that wailing cry reached their ears it thrilled the scouts through and through, for now they knew that the worst must have happened to the wretched tony pollock and his three cronies, adrift in the treacherous muck bog. "forward, but be very careful to keep in my tracks all the time!" called out the naturalist as he started off. they wound around this way and that. there were times when rob, who came directly on the heels of the pilot, could not see the slightest trace of a trail; but he realized that from long association and investigation mr. henderson knew exactly where to set his feet, and thus avoid unpleasant consequences. they now and then sent out reassuring calls, for those unseen parties ahead continued to make fervent appeals, as though a terrible fear assailed them that the rescuers might go astray and miss them. by degrees the shouts sounded closer, though becoming exceedingly hoarse. presently felix called out that he believed he had glimpsed the unfortunate boys. "oh! they're all in the mud, and up to their waists at that!" he cried. "no, you're wrong there, felix," said josh. "three of them seem to be stuck fast, but there's one up in that tree nearly over them. he must have managed to pull himself up there, somehow or other." "he's got a branch, and is trying to help one of his mates," asserted rob. "but he doesn't seem to be making much headway." "they're in a peck of trouble, believe me!" admitted george, for once neglecting to sneer at the prospect of a fatality. carl was trying to make out who the three in the bog were. "can you see if _he's_ in there, tom?" he asked, eagerly. "yes, it's wedge mcguffey up in the tree, and the others must be tony, asa and dock," the patrol leader assured him; nor did he blame poor carl for sighing as though in relief, for he could easily guess what it meant to him, this golden opportunity to be of help to the stubborn boy who could lift the load from his heart, if only he chose. when they came closer to the struggling captives in the lake of mud they heard them actually sobbing for joy. hope must have been almost gone when first they heard that chorus of cheering shouts. and when the scouts saw what a desperate condition the three prisoners were in they could not blame them for showing such emotion in the excess of their joy. soon the newcomers were as close as they could come to the three who were stuck there in the mire. never would they forget their deplorable appearance. they had evidently floundered about until they were fairly plastered over with the mud, and looked like imps. "can't you get us out of here, fellers?" called tony pollock, in a voice that seemed almost cracked, such was his excitement, and his fears that these scouts, whom he had done his best to injure, might think to pay him back in his own coin and abandon him to his fate. "yes, we'll manage it some way or other," said the hermit-naturalist. "keep as still as you can, because every movement only sends you down deeper." then he turned to tom, for he knew the patrol leader was the one to take charge of the rescue party. "here's the rope, tom," he told him. "pick out several of the stoutest of your comrades, and make use of the tree as a lever. it's all very simple, you can see, thought it may hurt them more or less when you pull." tom understood what was expected of him. "come along with me, carl, rob and josh," he said. "the rest of you stand by and be ready to pull if we need any more help. we'll pass the end of the rope back to you." "but how are we going to climb up in the tree?" asked rob; "without getting stuck in the mud ourselves?" "there's only one way," replied tom, as he seized hold of a branch that happened to be within reach, and commenced to climb it as though he were a sailor swarming up a rope. when he had effected a lodgment above they threw the rope to him, and after tom had made one end fast to the thick limb the other three had little difficulty in following him. then they clambered out to where wedge mcguffey was perched. his condition betrayed the fact that he too had been caught in the muck; but being closer to a friendly branch he must have made a tremendous effort and climbed into the tree. first of all tom made a running noose in the end of the rope. then he lowered this to tony who was almost below the limb of which they were astride. "listen, tony," said tom, clearly, "put the loop under your arms, with the knot at your chest. then grin and bear it, because we've got to drag hard to get you free from all that stuff you're in." "oh! never mind about me, tom; i'd stand anything if only i could get out of this terrible place. pull me in half if you have to; i'm game!" said the boy below. they found that it was really a little harder than they had bargained for, because of their insecure footing. accordingly, after several attempts that did not meet with much success, tom had the other end of the rope carried to the scouts who were on the ground. after that tony just had to come. he evidently suffered pain, but, as he had said, he was game, and in the end they hoisted him to the limb, where he clung watching the next rescue. it happened that asa was the second to be pulled out. meanwhile dock was in great distress of mind. all his nerve seemed to have gone, for he kept pleading with carl not to think of having revenge because of the way he had harmed him. "only get me out of this, carl," he kept saying, "and i've got something right here in my pocket i'm meaning to give back to you. i was getting shaky about it anyhow; but if you help me now you're a-goin' to have it, sure you are, carl!" it can easily be imagined that carl worked feverishly when it came time to get dock phillips out. he was deeper than either of the others had been, and it required some very rough usage before finally they loosened him from his miry bed. dock groaned terribly while the work was being carried on, but they did not stop for that, knowing it had to be. in the end he, too, was drawn up to the limb, a most sorry looking spectacle indeed, but his groans had now changed into exclamations of gratitude. it required much labor to get the four mud-daubed figures down to where the others were awaiting them. even tom and his helpers were pretty well plastered by that time, and their new uniforms looked anything but fine. josh grumbled a little, but as for tom and carl they felt that it was worth all it cost and a great deal more. carl would not wait any longer than he could help. perhaps he believed in "striking while the iron was hot." tom too was egging him on, for he felt that the sooner that precious paper was in the possession of his chum the better. "dock, i hope you mean to keep your word to me," carl said, as they took up the line of march over the ground that had been so lately covered. dock was seen to be fumbling as though reaching into an inner pocket; and while the suspense lasted of course carl held his very breath. then a hand reached back, and something in it was eagerly seized by the widow's son. one look told him that it was the paper his mother needed so much in order to balk the greedy designs of amasa culpepper. "how is everything now, carl?" asked a voice in his ear, and turning he found tom's smiling face close to his own. "oh! that terrible load seems to have fallen from my shoulders just as water does from the back of a duck!" carl exclaimed, joyously, and the patrol leader saw that he was very happy. "i'm so glad!" was all tom said, but the way he grasped his chum's hand counted for much more than mere words. when they finally reached the end of the treacherous great bog there was a halt called by the naturalist. "we must stop here and try to clean these boys off as best we can," he announced. this was no easy task, but by making use of slivers of wood from a fallen tree they finally managed to relieve tony and his crowd of most of the black mud, although they would be apt to carry patches of it on their garments for some time after it dried. "now," said the kindly old hermit-naturalist, "i'm going to invite all of you up to my cabin, and we'll have a feast to-night in celebration of this rescue from the great bog. you four lads have had a narrow escape, and i only hope you'll never forget what the scouts have done for you." even tony seemed affected, and certainly no one had ever before known him to show the first sign of contrition. he went straight up to tom and looked him in the eye. "we played your crowd a mighty low trick i want to say, tom chesney; and while we've et up most of the grub we took, here's something you might be glad to get back again," and with that he thrust into the hand of the patrol leader the little note-book which tom had mourned as lost to him forever. "i'm glad to have that again, tony," the other said, offering his hand to the contrite one; "because i mean to use my account of this hike later on in trying for a prize. it's lucky you didn't throw it away as you did the frying-pan and coffee-pot, which i see you failed to carry along with you." "we know where they're hid in the brush," tony hastened to declare; "and i c'n get 'em again inside of an hour. i'm a-goin' to do it too, 'cause i feel mean about that thing. i'm done with callin' the scouts names. fellers that'd reach out a helpin' hand to them that didn't deserve it must be the right sort. and laugh if you want to, tom chesney, but when we get back home i want ye to lend me a book that tells all a feller has to do when he thinks of gettin' up a scout troop!" tony was as good as his word. when he said a thing he stuck to it, which was his best quality. he tramped a long way back along the trail, and reappeared after sunset bearing the missing cooking utensils. "we're going to pay for the eatables we took later on, i promise ye, tom," he declared. they spent a great night and those four boys who had hated the scouts so long learned many wonderful things connected with the great movement as they sat by the fire, and listened to all that was said. in the morning they went their way, and appeared to be different youths from what they had been in the past. mr. witherspoon and the scouts spent another day and night with the hermit-naturalist. then on the next morning they started forth to complete their hike over big bear mountain. it chanced that no further adventures came their way, and one afternoon weary but well satisfied with the success of their trip, the troop re-entered lenox, with felix sounding his fish horn just as valiantly as though it were the most beautiful silver-plated bugle that money could buy. chapter xxv when carl came home--conclusion amasa culpepper had taken advantage of the absence of carl to drop around that afternoon to see the widow. he fully believed that by this time dock phillips had either destroyed or lost the paper he claimed to have found; or else amasa felt that he could secure possession of it at any time by paying the sum the boy demanded. when carl drew near his home he saw the well-known rig of the old lawyer and grocer at the gate. somehow, the sight gave carl an unpleasant feeling. then, as his hand unconsciously went up to the pocket where he had that precious paper, he felt a sensation of savage joy. they would get rid of this nuisance at last. mr. culpepper would have to produce the certificate for the oil shares that had become so valuable, now that the receipt he had given for it could be produced, and after that an era of prosperity would come to the oskamp's, with grim poverty banished forever. carl entered by the gate, and passed around the side of the house instead of using the front door as usual. the boy knew that the windows of the little sitting room must be open, and of course the afternoon caller would be in there. carl was anxious to hear what had caused the rich old man to don his best clothes and drop in to see his mother of an afternoon, though he strongly suspected the reason back of it. it did not strike the boy that he was playing the part of an eavesdropper, for in his mind just then the end justified the means. and he knew that amasa culpepper had to be fought with his own weapons. evidently he must have again asked mrs. oskamp to marry him, and as before met with a laughing refusal, for carl could hear him walking nervously up and down in the little sitting room. having exhausted his stock of arguments as to why she should think seriously of his proposal, mr. culpepper seemed to be getting angry. he had been courting the widow for a long time without making any impression on her heart. it was time to change his tactics. perhaps since entreaties had failed something in the way of half-veiled threats would become more successful. "you tell me that with the burning of the tenement building more than half of your little property has been lost," carl heard him saying as he crouched there under the open window. "yes, that is the sad truth, mr. culpepper," the widow admitted. "but with a family of children to bring up how are you going to live from now on, when before this happened you had barely enough? if you would seriously consider the proposition i make you, and become mrs. culpepper, your children would have a good home." "that is very generous of you, mr. culpepper," carl heard his mother say, while he fairly held his breath in suspense for fear she might agree to what the other asked; "but i cannot change my mind. i never expect to marry again." "but how can you get along, i want to know?" he demanded, angrily. "it takes money to live, and you will see the children you love suffer." "there is one resource still left," she told him, as though urged to put him to the test. "it lies in those shares of oil stock which you are holding for me. they have become very valuable, and when i dispose of them i hope to have enough and to spare for all future needs." there was a brief and awkward silence. "but what evidence is there," he finally asked icily, "that you ever placed any shares of stock in my hand, or even so, that they were not delivered to you again? of course you can show my name at the bottom of a receipt if that is the fact?" "is that absolutely necessary, mr. culpepper?" she asked, helplessly. "it is strictly business, madam," the visitor went on, in his cold, cutting tones that were like the rasping of a file. "i could not think of handing over anything of value that was in my possession without receiving in return a receipt." "but you would not be so cruel as to deprive my children of their bread simply because of a little technicality, sir? i will do anything the law demands to insure that you are not held liable whether the lost receipt is ever found again or not." "there is only one thing you can do," continued mr. culpepper, eagerly, "that will cause me to waive my rights, and you know what that is. those are my only terms of surrender." "that's just where you're a whole lot mistaken mr. culpepper!" cried carl, unable to hold in any longer, and thrusting his head and shoulders through the open window as he spoke. the widow gave a slight shriek, while mr. culpepper said something half under his breath that no doubt expressed his feelings. "what do you mean by saying that?" he asked, in a voice that was unsteady. "you made a statement that you'll have to take water on," carl told him with a broad smile on his face. "listen! my mother will be down at your office to-morrow morning with judge beatty and myself, and she'll demand that you deliver the paper that this receipt calls for!" with that he held up the precious little paper so that those in the sitting room could see it. mrs. oskamp gave a bubbling cry of joy, while amasa culpepper, seizing his hat and stick, hurried out of the door, entered his buggy and whipped his horse savagely, as though glad to vent his ill humor on some animate object. carl was not another moment in climbing through the open window and gathering his mother in his strong arms. the whole story was told that evening with the younger children gathered around. mrs. oskamp sat there and felt her mother heart glow with pride as she heard how carl had played his part in the exciting drama connected with the hike of the boy scouts. "it seems as though some power over which you had no control must have led you on to the glorious success that came in the end," she told the happy carl, after everything had been narrated. "with that paper in our hands we can have no further trouble in securing our property. but i shall feel that we owe something to dock phillips, and that it can only be repaid through kindness to his mother." on the following day they took judge beatty, who was an old friend of carl's father, into their confidence, and the certificate of stock was promptly though grudgingly delivered to them on demand. amasa culpepper knew that he had been fairly beaten in the game, and he annoyed mrs. oskamp no longer. the oil shares turned out to be worth a large sum of money, and it placed the oskamps beyond the reach of want. tom chesney wrote his account of their great trip over big bear mountain, and, sure enough it did take the prize when submitted in competition with numerous others to the magazine that had made the offer. tom remembered his promise and sent copies of the story to mr. clark, as well as to mr. henderson. the last heard from lenox the boy scouts were thriving famously. they expected to enjoy many an outing under the charge of the good-hearted scout master, mr. witherspoon, but some of the boys were of the opinion that there never could be just such a wonderful series of exciting adventures befall them as had accompanied the hike over big bear mountain. the high school boys' training hike or making themselves "hard as nails" by h. irving hancock contents chapters i. mr. titmouse doesn't know dick ii. the deed of a hero iii. the peddler and the lawyer's half iv. peddler hinman's next appearance v. dave does some good work vi. the no-breakfast plan vii. making the tramps squirm viii. when the peddler was "frisked" ix. dick imitates a tame indian x. reuben hinman proves his mettle xi. tom idealizes working clothes xii. trouble with the rah-rah-rahs xiii. a snub and the quick retort xiv. dick & co make an apple "pie" xv. making port in a storm xvi. home, hospital and almshouse xvii. two kinds of hobo xviii. dick prescott, knight errant xix. "i'll fight him for this man!" xx. in the milksop class? xxi. the revenge talk at miller's xxii. under the sting of the lash xxiii. timmy, the gentleman, at home xxiv. conclusion chapter i mr. titmouse doesn't know dick "we thought ten dollars would be about right," dick prescott announced. "per week?" inquired mr. titmouse, as though he doubted his hearing. "oh, dear, no! for the month of august, sir." mr. newbegin titmouse surveyed his young caller through half-closed eyelids. "ten dollars for the use of that fine wagon for a whole month?" cried mr. titmouse in astonishment. "absurd!" "very likely i am looking at it from the wrong point of view," admitted prescott, who fingered a ten dollar bill and was slowly smoothing it out so that mr. titmouse might see it. "that wagon was put together especially for the purpose," mr. titmouse resumed. "it has seats that run lengthwise, and eight small cupboards and lockers under the seats. there is a place to secure the cook stove at the rear end of the wagon, and the stove rests on zinc. though the wagon is light enough for one horse to draw it, it will hold all that several people could require for camping or for leading a regular gipsy life. there is a special awning that covers the wagon when needed, so that on a rainy day you can travel without using umbrellas or getting wet. you can cook equally well on the stove whether in camp or on the road. there are not many vehicles in which you can cook a full meal when traveling from one point to another." "nor is it every stewpan or kettle that would refrain from slipping off the stove when driving the wagon over rough roads," laughed dick good-humoredly. "well---er---of course, one has to choose decent roads when touring with a wagon of that sort," admitted the owner. "then you don't think ten dollars a fair price?" dick prescott inquired thoughtfully. "for a month's use of the wagon? i do not," replied mr. newbegin titmouse with emphasis. "and so you decline our offer of ten dollars?" prescott asked, looking still more thoughtful. "i certainly do," replied mr. titmouse. then the owner of the wagon began to descant glowingly upon the many advantages of going on a road hike aided by the service that such a specially constructed wagon would give. in fact, mr. titmouse dwelt so enthusiastically upon the value of his wagon that dick shrewdly told himself: "he's very anxious---unusually so---to rent us that wagon. i've already found out that he hasn't used the wagon in two years, nor has he succeeded in renting it to anyone else. the wagon is so much useless lumber in his stable." "i wouldn't rent that wagon to everyone," mr. titmouse wound up. "no, sir," dick agreed heartily, yet with a most innocent look in his face. "not everyone would want the wagon." "i---i don't mean that!" mr. titmouse exclaimed. "in fact, sir," dick went on very smoothly, "i have learned that you have been offering the wagon for sale or hire during the last two summers, without getting any customers." "eh?" demanded mr. titmouse in some astonishment. "naturally, sir," dick went on, "before coming here to see you i made a few inquiries in tottenville. i discovered that in this vicinity the wagon is something of a joke." "what's that?" questioned the other sharply. "my camping wagon a joke? nothing of the sort. and, if it is a joke, why did you want to get it?" "oh, all of our fellows can stand a joke," laughed young prescott "so i came over to see just what terms we could make for the use of your wagon during the month of august." "well, i'll be as fair with you as i can," mr. titmouse replied. "from men---grown men---i would want at least thirty dollars a month for the wagon---probably thirty-five. of course i know that money is not as plentiful with boys. i'll let you have the wagon for the month of august at the bottom price of twenty-five dollars." dick smilingly shook his head. "i've named the best price i could think of taking," insisted mr. titmouse. "come into the wagon shed and have another look at it." "thank you, sir, but there is no use in looking at the wagon again, when such a price as twenty-five dollars is asked for a month's hire," dick answered promptly. "come inside and look at it again, anyway," urged mr. titmouse. "thank you, sir, but i must get back to gridley at the earliest possible moment." "if you didn't want to hire the wagon," asked mr. titmouse testily, "what was the use of taking up my time?" "i do want to hire it," dick admitted, "but since hearing your price i have realized that i don't want the wagon half as much as i did at the outset." it was notable about mr. titmouse that he would gladly talk for three hours in order to gain a dollar's advantage in any trade in which he was interested. he was a small man, with small features and very small eyes which, somehow, suggested gimlets. he bore about with him always an air of injury, as though deeply sensitive over the supposed fact that the whole world was concerned in getting the better of him. though mr. titmouse had acquired, through sharp dealing, usury and in many other ways a considerable sum of money and property in the course of his life, yet he was not the man to part with any of it needlessly. the special wagon now resting in the wagon shed at his home place in tottenville had been designed by him at a time when people all through the state had been much interested in outdoor life. the titmouse wagon had been built as the result of much thought on the part of its designer. it certainly was a handy kind of wagon for campers to use on the road. mr. titmouse had spent four weeks of wandering life, going from point to point and trying to talk up the merits of his wagon. he had hoped to establish a small factory, there to build such wagons to order at high prices. for some reason he had met with no success in that enterprise. after his realization of failure newbegin titmouse had felt that he would be content if he could sell the wagon at anything like a good price. failing to sell it, he hoped to be able to get his money back through renting the wagon. now he stood watching this high school boy from gridley, wondering just how much rental he could extort from this wiry, athletic-looking football player. "there will be a car along in about five minutes," mused dick aloud. "i must try to take that car. thank you very much for your kindness, mr. titmouse." "but we haven't come to any understanding yet," cried the wagon's owner as dick turned and walked away. "why, yes, we have, sir," prescott answered pleasantly over his shoulder. "we have come to the understanding that you can't afford to come down to our price, and that we can't go up to yours. so i'm going back to make some other arrangements for a wagon." "wait a minute!" interjected newbegin titmouse, stepping after the boy from gridley. "maybe i can drop off a dollar or so on the price." "much obliged, sir; but it wouldn't help us any, and it's almost time for the car," was prescott's answer. "what's your best offer? make it!" urged mr. titmouse restlessly. "seven dollars for the wagon for the month of august," prescott replied. "seven? why, only a minute or two ago you offered me ten dollars!" "i know it, sir," said dick coolly. "you will recall that you declined that offer, so i am at liberty to make a new offer." "you'll have to make a better-----" "if you decline seven dollars," dick smiled pleasantly, "my next offer, if i make one, will not go above six." mr. titmouse felt, of a sudden, very certain that the high school boy would stand by that threat. "seven dollars doesn't land me clear for the season," complained newbegin titmouse. "i've spent nine dollars already in advertising the wagon." "then, if you don't take my seven dollars," prescott proposed, "you'll be out quite a bit of money, mr. titmouse. i see my car coming in the distance. so good-----" "i'll take ten!" called mr. titmouse, as dick once more turned away. "six," smiled dick significantly. "but i haven't time to stay here and dicker, sir. good-----" "hold on!" fairly screamed mr. titmouse, as dick, nodding at him, started to run to the corner. "then i'll stop and talk it over with you, sir," answered prescott, going back. "but i don't say that i'll agree to take the wagon." "now, don't you try to work the price down any lower," exclaimed mr. titmouse, looking worried. "no, sir; i won't do that," dick promised. "i won't say, yet, that i'll take the wagon, but i will agree that i'll either take it at six dollars or refuse the chance altogether. i've just happened to think of something that i want to make sure about" "what is it?" asked mr. titmouse apprehensively. "i forgot to look at the tires on the wheels," prescott went on. "i want to make sure that they're sound, so that we fellows won't have to take the chance of paying a blacksmith to make new ones before we've been out a week." the tires were in excellent condition, so the little man had no objection whatever to showing them. "good, so far," nodded prescott. "now, next, i'd enjoy looking at the axles and the hub-nuts." "you're not the lad who is going to allow himself to be cheated," laughed mr. titmouse admiringly. "the hubs and axles are all right, so i've no objection to showing them to you." "i'm satisfied with the wagon," dick declared, a few minutes later. "now, mr. titmouse, i'll pay you the six dollars if you'll make out a satisfactory receipt for the money." "come into the office and tell me what you want me to say in the receipt," urged newbegin titmouse, leading the way across the stable into a little room in the furthermost corner. the receipt was soon made out, the money paid and the receipt in dick's pocket. "i'll either come for the wagon myself, or send one of the other fellows," dick promised. "if i send for it i'll also send a written order." "i hope you boys will have a pleasant time this summer," chirped mr. titmouse, who, though he had been badly out-generaled in the trade, had at least the satisfaction of knowing that there was some money in his pocket that had come to him by sheer good luck. "we're going to try to have the finest good time that a crowd of fellows ever had," dick replied, after nodding his thanks. "i've missed that car, and shall have quite a little wait." "perhaps you'd like to sit under a tree and eat a few apples," suggested mr. titmouse. dick was about to accept the invitation with thanks when mr. titmouse added: "i've a lot of fine summer apples i gathered yesterday. i'll let you have three for five cents." this attempt at petty trade, almost in the guise of hospitality, struck dick as being so utterly funny that he could not help laughing outright. "thank you, mr. titmouse," he replied. "i don't believe i'll eat any apples just now." "i might make it four for a nickel," coaxed the little man, "if you agree not to pick out the largest apples." "thank you, but i don't believe i'll eat any apples at all just now," dick managed to reply, then made his escape in time to avoid laughing in mr. titmouse's face. once out on the street, and knowing that he had some twenty minutes to wait for the next car, dick strolled slowly along. "i didn't know that boy," muttered newbegin titmouse, looking after prescott with a half admiring gaze, "and i didn't size him up right. he offered me ten dollars, and then got the wagon for six. whew! i don't believe i ever before got off so badly as that in a trade. but i really did spend five-fifty in advertising the wagon in the tottenville and gridley papers this summer, so i'm fifty cents ahead, anyway, and a fifty-cent piece is always equivalent to half a dollar!" with which sage reflection mr. newbegin titmouse went out into his small orchard to see whether he had overlooked any summer apples that were worth two dollars a barrel. dick sauntered down the street for a few blocks ere he heard the whirr of a gridley-bound trolley car behind him. he quickened his pace until he reached the next corner. there he signaled to the motorman. as the car slowed down dick swung himself on nimbly, remarking to the conductor: "don't make a real stop for me. drive on!" as prescott passed inside the car he was greeted by a pleasant-faced, well-dressed young man. it was mr. luce, one of the sub-masters of gridley high school. dick dropped into a seat beside him. "been tramping a bit, prescott?" inquired the sub-master. "no, sir; i've been over here on a little matter of business, but i expect to start, in a day or two, on a few weeks of tramping." thereupon young prescott fell to describing the trip that he, dave darrin, greg holmes, dan dalzell, tom reade and harry hazelton had mapped out for themselves. "just for pleasure?" asked mr. luce. "no, sir; for training. we all hope to make the football team this fall. we're all of us in pretty good shape, too, i think, sir; but we're going out on this training hike to see if we can't work ourselves down as hard as nails." "i'd like to go with you," nodded the sub-master. "can't you do it, sir?" asked dick eagerly, for mr. luce was a favorite with all the boys. "unfortunately, i can't," replied the submaster. "i'm expected at home. my mother and sister claim me for this month. but i wish i could go, just the same." "you would be most welcome i assure you, sir," replied dick warmly. "thank you, prescott," returned mr. luce with a smile. "i appreciate your invitation and regret that i cannot accept it." the conversation again turned to the subject of the coming football season, and an animated discussion ensued, as sub-master luce was an enthusiastic advocate of football. suddenly, dick, glancing ahead out of the window, turned pale. without a word of explanation he sprang from his seat and made a bound for the nearer car door, the rear one. "everyone off! stop the car! hustle!" shouted the high school boy. "mr. luce! come on. quick!" by the time the last words were uttered dick had made a flying leap from the car platform. by good luck, rather more than by expert work, he landed on his feet. not an instant did he lose, but dashed along at full speed. john luce, though he had no inkling of what had caused the excitement, sprang after dick. dick, however, had not waited to see if the sub-master had followed him. his horror-filled eyes, as he ran, were turned straight ahead. it needed but a few steps to carry him across the road. he bounded into a field where a loaded hay wagon stood near an apple tree. the horses had been led away to be fed. seated on the top of the hay were a boy of barely six and a girl not more than four years old. they were awaiting the return of the farmer. down below a six-year-old boy, barefooted and brown as a gipsy, had appeared on the scene during the farmer's absence. "for fun" this youngster had been lighting match after match, making believe to set the hay afire. as he held the matches as close to the dried hay as he dared, this urchin on the ground called to the two babies above that he would "burn 'em up." not all of this did dick prescott know, but his glance through the car window had shown him the boy on the ground just as that tiny fellow had lighted another match, shouting tantalizingly to the two children on top of the load of hay. just as he called up to them the mischievous youngster tripped slightly. throwing out his right hand to save himself the boy accidentally touched the bottom of the load at one side with the lighted match. at this fateful instant it was out of the question to think of putting out the flame that leaped from wisp to wisp of the dried grass. "jump!" shouted the young match-burner, but the children above did not hear, or else did not realize their plight. "fire! fire!" screamed the little incendiary, as he ran panic-stricken toward the farm house. and now dick was racing as he had never done before, even over the football gridiron. on his speed depended the lives of the two children. chapter ii the deed of a hero at the moment of dick's leap from the car, sub-master luce did not know what had happened. he realized in an instant what was the matter, and made frantic efforts to reach the scene at the same moment with prescott. dick, however, kept the lead. as the flames shot up through the hay the children on top of the hay began to gather a sense of their awful danger. seconds---fractions of seconds---were of priceless value now---if lives were to be saved. there was still time for the two children to jump over the side on which the flames had not yet appeared, but they were too badly frightened to know what to do. if they should jump where the flames were leaping up they were almost certain to have their clothing catch fire, with fatal burns as a result. dick felt that he did not have time to shout to the frightened children. besides, his commands would likely serve only to confuse them the more. terror-stricken the two little ones clasped each other and stood screaming with fear on the top of the load. dick's quick eye had taken in the only chance in this terrifying situation. straight for the apple tree he bounded, his first leap carrying him into a crotch in the tree a few feet above the ground. out he sprang, now, on a limb of the tree that most nearly overhung the load of hay. that limb sagged under him---creaked---threatened to snap off under his weight. but young prescott, wholly heedless of his own safety, and with only one object in mind, scrambled out on the creaking limb as far as he could; then, with a prayer on his lips, he made a wild, strenuous leap. sub-master luce turned white as he saw what dick had attempted to do. had he been made of more timorous stuff the high school teacher would have closed his eyes for that awful instant. as it was, john luce saw young prescott land at the rear end of the load. dick felt himself slipping. for one frenzied second, he feared that he had failed. young strongheart that he was, he braced all his muscles for the supreme effort---and drew himself up to safer footing on the hay. then, like an eagle, he swooped down upon the children. the little girl he snatched from her tiny brother's clasp. "here!" called sub-master luce from the further side. brief as the time was dick prescott calculated the distance like lightning. there was no time to call back to mr. lucen---nor need to do so. aiming with all the precision at his command, dick threw the child from him. his aim splendidly true, he had the joy of seeing the child land in mr. luce's arms. without a moment's loss of time prescott now snatched up the shrieking boy. "ready!" shouted dick, and a second little body was thrown through the air. again did john luce do credit to his college baseball training, for, hurriedly placing the girl baby on the ground he put up his hands to receive the boy. "jump yourself, prescott!" bawled the submaster hoarsely. but dick was already in the air. with the flames shooting up and seeming fairly to lick his face, dick had had no time to calculate his jump. on the ground, some feet beyond the wagon, prescott landed, sprawling on all fours. he leaped up, however, his face twitching yet with a laugh on his lips. behind him the whole load of hay now flared up, crackling and hissing. "hurry back out of the heat!" yelled john luce, leaping forward, seizing young prescott and dragging him several yards away. dick turned in time to see the whole glowing mass cave in. had he arrived on the scene a few seconds later than he did both children would have perished miserably. now, from the house came a white-faced man, running as though some demon animated him. behind him came a woman even paler. toward father and mother ran the pair of little tots, wholly unmindful of their rescuers. as for the older, match-burning boy, that youngster half scared to death, had dashed away into hiding to escape the wrath that he knew must soon seek him. "that was simply magnificent, prescott!" said the sub-master enthusiastically. "but i honestly believed that it would be your last good deed." while the sub-master spoke he was running both hands up and down over the high school boy's clothing, putting out many glowing sparks that had found lodgment in the cloth. "it was easy," smiled dick. "thank goodness i saw the trouble in time!" "there are others who are thankful that you saw it in time," uttered john luce, as he looked toward the parents, now coming up as fast as they could, each with a child clasped in arms. from the road went up a loud cheer. the trolley car had been halted and backed down to the scene. though there were few people on the car, they made up amply in enthusiasm for their lack of numbers. as for the farmer and his wife, though they tried to thank dick and mr. luce, they were too completely overcome with emotion to express themselves intelligibly. the wagon that had held the hay was now blazing fiercely. as for the hay, that had already burned to a fine powder. "how---how did you ever get here in time?" cried the rejoicing mother brokenly. it was the conductor of the trolley car, just reaching the spot, who told how dick prescott and mr. luce had leaped from the moving car. the sub-master described dick's feat in climbing the apple tree and leaping from the limb of the tree to the top of the loaded hay wagon. "it was a nervy thing for any man to do!" choked the farmer, tears of joy running down his cheeks. "it was just like dick prescott," replied john luce simply. as soon as possible dick and the sub-master made their escape from the earnest protestations of gratitude of the farmer and his wife, though they did not go until mr. luce had persuaded the parents not to whip the mischievous match-burner, but to content themselves with pointing out to the little rascal the dreadful possibilities of such pranks. at last, however, dick and mr. luce returned to the car followed by the other passengers. the conductor gave the go-ahead signal, and the motor-man started in to try to make up some of the time lost from his schedule. dick, as soon as he reached gridley, went up to greg holmes' house, where he knew his chums would be waiting to learn the result of his tottenville trip. that evening sub-master luce chanced to take a stroll up main street. as the offices of the "morning blade" were lighted up, mr. luce stepped inside, seeking editor pollock in the editorial room. "is prescott about?" asked mr. luce, for dick, as our readers know, earned many a dollar as a "space-writer"; that is, he was paid so much a column for furnishing and writing up local news. "dick went out about ten minutes ago," replied mr. pollock. "was he here long?" "about fifteen minutes." "by the way, mr. pollock," the sub-master went on, "what do you think of dick's latest feat?" "which one?" "his fine work over on the tottenville road this afternoon?" "i haven't heard of it," replied mr. pollock, opening his eyes. "come to think of it," rejoined john luce, "and knowing young prescott as i do, i don't suppose you have heard of it---not from prescott, at all events." then the sub-master told the story of the burning load of hay in a way that made the "blade's" editor reach hastily for pencil and paper that he might take notes. "that's just the kind of story that dick prescott never could be depended upon to bring in here---if he was the central character in it," observed the editor quietly. despite the failure of dick to bring in this particular story, however, the "blade," the next morning, printed more than a column from the data furnished by mr. luce. dick, however, didn't hear of it---in gridley. it was harry hazelton, who, at four o'clock, mounted a horse he had hired for the trip and rode over to tottenville, where the camp wagon was obtained from mr. newbegin titmouse. hazelton wasted no time on the road, but drove as fast as the horse could comfortably travel. it was but a few minutes after six o'clock, that august morning, when dick prescott and his five chums, collectively famous as dick & co., drove out of gridley. harry hazelton was now the driver, the other five high school boys walking briskly just ahead of the wagon. mr. titmouse's special vehicle carried all that dick & co. would need in the near future, and the six boys were setting out on what was destined to be their most famous vacation jaunt. chapter iii the peddler and the lawyer's half just before leaving gridley, greg holmes had bought a copy of the "blade" from a newsboy. three miles out, the chums enjoyed their first halt. "ten minutes' rest under this tree," dick announced, for already the august morning sun was beating down upon them. greg drew out his copy of the newspaper, unfolding it. "say!" he yelled suddenly. "stop that," commanded tom reade, "or you'll make the horse run away and wreck our outfit." "but this paper says-----" "stop it," ordered tom with a scowl. "i know what you're going to do. you'll read us some exciting stuff, and get us all worked up, and then in the last paragraph you'll stumble on the fact that some well-known tottenville man was cured of all his ailments by brown's blood bitters." "can you hold your tongue a minute?" demanded greg ironically. "not when i see you headed that way," retorted reade. "i've been fooled by the same style of exciting item, and i know how cheap it makes a fellow feel when he comes to the name of the bitters, the pills or the sarsaparilla. holmesy, i want to save your face for you with this crowd." "will you keep quiet, for a moment, and let the other fellows hear, even if you have to take a walk in order to save your own ears?" demanded greg, with sarcasm. "this piece is about dick prescott, and he doesn't sign patent medicine test-----" "dick prescott?" demanded darrin. "whoop! let's have it!" "it isn't a roast, is it?" demanded danny grin solemnly. "no; it isn't," greg went on. "listen, while i read the headlines." it was a four-line heading, beginning with "dick prescott's fine nerve." "there! i was afraid it was a roast, after all," sighed danny grin. "take that fellow away and muzzle him," ordered greg, then proceeded to read the other sections of the headlines. by this time greg had a very attentive audience. even tom reade had ceased to scoff. "oh, bosh!" gasped dick, when greg was about one third of the way through the column article. "isn't it true?" demanded dave. "after a fashion," dick admitted. "then hold off and be good while the rest of us hear about yesterday's doings." so dick stood by, his face growing redder and redder as the reading proceeded. "that's what i call a dandy story," declared greg as he finished reading. "dick, why didn't you tell us something about it last night?" demanded hazelton. "what was the use?" asked prescott. "and, though i've always thought the 'blade' a fine local newspaper, i don't quite approve of mr. pollock's judgment of news values in this instance. i suspect that mr. pollock must have been away, and that mr. bradley, the news editor, ran this in." "it sounds like some of len spencer's stuff," guessed dave. "he's great on local events." "if they had to print the yarn, eight or ten lines would have covered it," dick declared. "fellows, we've used up eighteen minutes for our halt, instead of ten. come on!" greg, however, after rising, and before starting, was careful to fold the "blade" neatly and to tuck it away in a pocket. he meant to save that news story. all of our readers are familiar with the lives and doings of dick prescott and his friends up to date. "dick & co.," as the boys styled their unorganized club of chums, was made up of the six boys, who had been fast friends back in their days of study at the central grammar school of gridley. they had been together in everything, and notably so in athletics and sports. all that befell them in their later days at central grammar school is told fully in the four volumes of the "_grammar school boys series_." yet it was when these same boys entered gridley high school that they came into the fullest measure of their local fame and popularity. even as freshmen they found a chance to accomplish far more for school athletics than is usually permitted to freshmen. it was due to their efforts that athletics were put on a sound financial basis in the gridley high school. all this and more is described in the first volume of the "_high school boys series_," entitled "_the high school freshmen_." but it was in the second volume of that series, "_the high school pitcher_," that our readers found dick & co. entered fully in the training squads of one of the most famous of american high schools. as described in the third volume, "_the high school left end_," dick & co. were transferred from the baseball nine to the gridiron eleven, and by this time had become the undisputed athletic leaders of gridley high school. these honors they had not won without tremendous opposition, especially by the formation of the notorious "sorehead squad" to oppose their hard earned supremacy in football. yet dick & co. ever went strenuously forward, in manly, clean-cut fashion, working unceasingly for the furthering of honest american sport. between the plottings of their enemies and a host of adventures on all sides, the school life of dick & co. proved exciting indeed. in the "_high school boys' vacation series_" our readers have followed the summer doings of dick & co. as distinguished from the doings of their crowded school years. the first volume devoted to the vacations of dick & co., "_the high school boys' canoe club_," describes the adventures of our lads in an indian war canoe which even their slender financial resources enabled them to buy at an auction sale of the effects of a stranded wild west show. in the second volume of this series, "_the high school boys in summer camp_," our readers came upon an even more exciting narrative of keenly enjoyed summer doings, replete with lively adventures. in that volume the activities of tag mosher, a strangely odd character, kept dick & co. continually on the alert. in the third volume of the vacation series, entitled "_the high school boys' fishing trip_," were chronicled the things that befell dick & co. while away on a fishing expedition that became famous in the annals of gridley school days. this third volume was full to the brim with the sort of adventures that boys most love. some old enemies of dick & co. appeared; how they were put to rout is well known to all our readers. how dick & co. played a huge joke, and several smaller ones upon their enemies, is described in that volume. in this present volume will be recounted all that befell dick & co. in august after completing their junior year in gridley high school, just as the preceding or third volume dealt with the happenings of july of that same summer. after that first halt dick & co. plodded on for another hour. but prescott, noting that hazelton was still on the driver's seat of the camp wagon, blandly inquired: "harry, if you sit up there, lazily holding the reins, how do you expect to get your share of the training work of this hike?" "perhaps i'd rather have the comfort than the training work," laughed hazelton. "that will never do!" smiled dick. "suppose you climb down and let danny grin take your place at the reins until the next halt. i suspect that danny boy already has a few pebbles in his shoes, and that he'll be glad enough to look over the world from the driver's seat." "i'm willing to sacrifice myself for the good of the expedition, anyway," sighed dalzell, as harry drew rein. "come down with you, hazy, and begin to share the delights of this walking match!" the change of drivers made, dick & co. plodded on again. "it seems to me that we ought to put on more speed," suggested dave darrin. "are you in a hurry to get somewhere, darry?" drawled tom reade. "no," dave replied, "but, if we're out for training, it seems to me that we had better do brisker walking than we're doing now, even if the horse can't keep up with us." "we're making about three miles and a half an hour," dick responded. "but will that be work enough to make us as hard as nails?" persisted darry. "we're getting over the ground as fast as the troops of the regular army usually travel," prescott rejoined. "i believe our regulars are generally regarded as rather perfect specimens in the walking line. we might move along at a speed of six miles, and might keep it up for an hour. then we'd be footsore, and all in. if the first hour didn't do it, the second hour would. but if we plug along in this deliberate fashion, and get over fifteen, eighteen or twenty miles a day, and keep it up, i don't believe any one of you fellows will complain, september first, that he isn't as hard and solid as he wants to be---even for bucking the football lines, of other high schools." "i know that i can be satisfied with this gait," murmured reade. "if darry wants to move faster," suggested hazelton, "why not tell him where to wait for us, and let him gallop ahead?" "i'll stay with the rest of you," darry retorted. "all i want to make sure of is that we're going to get the most out of our training work this summer." "i'll tell you what you might do, dave, by way of extra exercise and hardening," offered tom. "what?" asked dave suspiciously. "i believe we're going to halt every hour for a brief rest" "yes." "while the five of us are resting under the trees, darry, you might climb the trees, swinging from limb to limb and leaping from tree to tree. of course you'll select trees that are not directly over our heads." "humph!" retorted dave. "try it, anyway," urged tom, "it's fine exercise, even if you give it up after a while." "i'll try it as often as you do," darrin agreed with a grin. their second halt found the high school boys more than six miles from their starting point. on this trip they were not heading in the direction they had followed on their fishing trip. instead, they were traveling in the opposite direction from gridley, through a fairly populous farming region. at a quarter-past ten o'clock dick called for another halt. the road map that the boys had brought along showed them that they were now eleven miles from gridley. "pretty fair work," muttered tom, "considering that these roads were built by men who had never seen any better kind." "we can more than double the distance," suggested dave, "before we go into camp for the night." "if we hike a couple more miles this morning, then halt, get the noon meal and rest until two o'clock," replied young prescott, "i think we shall do better." "if we've gone only eleven miles," protested darrin, "then i'm certainly good for twenty-five miles in all to-day, and i believe the rest of you are, too." "wait until we've done eighteen or twenty miles," prescott proposed. "then we can take a vote about making it twenty-five." "for one thing," darry objected, "none of us actually walks twenty-five miles when we cover that distance. we take turns riding on the wagon, and, as there are six of us, that means that each fellow rides something like four miles of the distance covered." "what darry is driving at," proposed danny grin, "is that he wants to devote himself wholly to walking hereafter. he doesn't care about driving the horse." "i'm big enough and cranky enough to do my own talking, when there is any reason for my entering into the conversation," smiled dave. at a little after eleven that morning, when thirteen and a half miles had been covered, all hands were willing enough to halt and rest, prepare luncheon and rest again. "but i still hope we shall cover the twenty-five miles to-day," darry insisted. "no difficulty about that, either," declared harry hazelton. "darry, while we are swapping stories over the campfire this evening you can take a lantern and do an extra five miles by way of an evening walk. then you'll be tired enough to sleep." "i'll see about it," darrin laughed. "and that's the last we'll hear about it," tom predicted dryly. "it is the experience of every military commander, so i've read," dick went on, "that a long march the first day of a big hike is no especially good sign of how the soldiers will hold out to the end. on the contrary, military men have found that it's better to march a shorter distance on the first day and to work up gradually to a good standard of performance." "all right," agreed hazelton. "for one, i'm willing to take a rest after eating, and then take the afternoon for getting acquainted with this pretty grove." "we won't quite do that, either, if i have my way," prescott laughed. "we ought to do a few miles this afternoon, but not set out to do any record-breaking or back-breaking stunt." "there goes hazy's dream up in the air," laughed greg. "i just knew that hazy was planning how to spend the afternoon napping." "i'll volunteer to drive all the way, this afternoon," harry offered. "that will give all of you fellows a chance to harden yourselves more on the first day." "if you want to know a good definition of 'generosity,' then ask hazy," snorted dalzell. "come on!" cried dick good-humoredly. "scatter. some for wood, some for water. tom and i will get the kitchen kit ready for a meal. but we must have the wood and water before we can prepare luncheon." at that suggestion of something to eat there was a general rush to get things in readiness. as soon as a fire was going in the stove in the wagon, dick put on a frying pan. into this he dropped several slices of bacon. tom, over a fire built on the ground, set the coffee-pot going. in a pot on the stove dick put potatoes to cook. now dave rattled out the dishes, as soon as greg and hazy had set up the folding table. dan placed the chairs. "get ready!" called dick, as soon as he had fried two platters full of bacon and eggs. tom, will you try the potatoes?" "done," responded reade, after prodding the potatoes with a fork. "what shall we do with the food that's left over?" asked danny grin, as he began to eat. "there isn't going to be any food left over," dick laughed. "you fellows will be lucky, indeed, if you get as much as you want." everyone was satisfied, however, by the time that the meal was finished. "greg and harry may have the pleasure of washing the dishes," dick suggested. "oh, dear!" grunted hazy, but he went at his task without further remarks. before one o'clock everything was in readiness for going forward again, save for putting the horse between the shafts of the wagon. prescott, however, put a proposition to rest until two o'clock before his chums. it was unanimously carried. despite his desire for a walking record that day, darry proved quite willing to lie off at full length in the shade of the trees and doze as much as the flies would permit. dick and tom strolled slowly down toward the road, halting by a couple of trees. "there's something you don't often see, nowadays," spoke up tom after a while. he nodded back up the road. coming in the same direction that the boys themselves had traveled was a faded, queer-looking old red wagon, much decorated on the outside by a lot of hanging, swinging tin and agate ware. "that's the old-fashioned tin-peddler that i've heard a good deal about as being a common enough character some forty years ago," said prescott. "our grandmothers used to save up meat-bones, rags and bottles and trade them off to the peddler, receiving tinware in return." "the man on that wagon was doing business forty years ago," remarked tom. "in fact, judging by his appearance, he must have been quite a veteran at the business even forty years ago." a bent, little old man it was who was perched upon the seat of the red wagon. once upon a time his hair had been tawny. now it was streaked liberally with gray. he was smoking a black little wooden pipe and paying small attention to the sad-eyed, bony horse between the shafts. there was a far-away, rather dull look in the old peddler's eyes. just before he reached the boys, whom he had not seen, he took a piece of paper from his pocket, pulled his spectacles down from his forehead and read the paper. "i don't understand it," muttered the peddler, aloud. "i can't understand it. i wish i had someone to give me the right of it." "could we be of any service, sir?" reade inquired. hearing a human voice so close at hand the peddler started for an instant. then he pulled in the horse. "i dunno whether you can be of much use to me," answered the peddler slowly. "you don't look old enough to know much about business." "still, i know more than anyone would think, from just looking at me," volunteered reade, reddening a bit as he saw the laughter in dick prescott's eyes. "maybe you can explain this riddle," went on the peddler, extending the sheet of white paper. "it can't do any harm to give you a chance. you see, i had a bill of twenty dollars against bill peterson. the bill had been running three years, and i couldn't get anything out of bill but promises without any exact dates tied to 'em. i needed the money as bad as bill did, so at last i went to lawyer stark to see what could be done about it. lawyer stark said he'd tackle the job if i'd give him half. i agreed to that, for half a loaf is better'n nothing at all, as you may have heard. then weeks went by, and i heard nothing from squire stark. so the other night i writ a letter, asking him how the collection of the bill was coming on. this is the answer he sends me." so tom read aloud, from the typewritten sheet, the following remarkably brief communication: "dear sir: answering your letter of yesterday's date, i have to advise you that i have collected my half of the peterson bill. your half i regard as extremely doubtful." this was signed with the name of lawyer stark. tom reade glanced through the note again, then gave vent to a shout of laughter. "eh?" asked the peddler looking puzzled. "i beg your pardon, sir," replied reade instantly. "i shouldn't have laughed, but this struck me, at first, as one of the funniest letters i ever saw. so the lawyer has collected his half of the twenty and regards the collection of your half as exceedingly doubtful!" "shouldn't lawyer stark give me half of the ten he got from bill peterson?" asked the peddler anxiously. "undoubtedly he should," tom assented, "and just as undoubtedly he hasn't any idea of doing so." "what do you say, young man?" inquired the peddler, turning to young prescott. "why, sir, if you are asking about your legal chance of getting half of that ten dollars from the lawyer," dick answered, "then i'm afraid you stand a poor show. if the lawyer won't pay you the money, then you would have to sue him. even if you won the suit, the fight would cost you a good deal more than the amount you would recover. and the lawyer might beat you, even if you sued him." "then---what's the answer?" demanded the peddler slowly. "i know the answer," said tom confidently, "but it would be a shame to tell you, sir." "just the same, i wish you would," replied the peddler coaxingly. "the answer," replied reade, "is that you have been cheated." "but it looks to me like a mean trick," dick went on. "what am i going to do about it?" asked the peddler wonderingly. "i don't believe you can do anything about it, sir," prescott answered, "unless you are willing to sue the lawyer, or can make him agree to fair play. but i certainly would drop in to see him and tell him that you expect just half of what he has so far collected." "i believe i'll do that," replied peddler hinman, judging from the address on the letter, that was his name. "i don't like to be made a fool of by any man---especially when i need money as badly as any other man on my route." dick took a sweeping glance at the peddler's shabby attire. while, of course, the size of a man's bank account cannot be judged from his wardrobe, mr. hinman had the appearance of needing money as much as he declared. the horse, too, looked as though a generous feed of oats would do him good. "and to think of all the things i know about squire stark, too," murmured mr. hinman, apparently speaking to himself and not realizing that his words carried to the boys' ears. "if he had a little more judgment, silas stark would treat me with more fairness." "i'm very sorry if i seemed too much amused," tom apologized earnestly, "but that letter, apart from its meaning to you, really is funny." "i---i suppose so," assented reuben hinman sighing, and the far-away look returning to his eyes. "but i---i need the money!" "and both of us hope that you will get it, sir, the whole of your half," said dick prescott heartily. "anyway, i'm much obliged to both of you boys," said the peddler. "giddap, prince!" somehow, both boys thought that reuben hinman drooped more on the seat of his wagon than before. he drove off slowly, evidently doing a lot of hard thinking. "poor old man!" muttered tom sympathetically. "he looks a bit slow-witted," prescott suggested. "i'm afraid he has always been going through life wondering at the doings of others, and especially at the success of unprincipled men he has had to deal with." "do you know," remarked reade, gazing after the bent, huddled little figure, "i've a notion that there has been a lot in that poor fellow's life that has been downright tragic." tragic? without doubt! moreover, though dick could not guess it, he and his friends were soon to be mixed up in the tragic side of peddler hinman's life. chapter iv peddler hinman's next appearance camp was made at half-past four that afternoon, nineteen miles having been covered. the tent was pitched in a bit of woods, not far from the road, permission from the owner having been secured. dave had asked the owner if they might picket the horse out to graze, but dick had instantly objected. "we don't want to feed our hired horse on green grass if we're going to work him hard." "that's right," agreed the farmer, so twenty cents' worth of hay was purchased, to be added to the feed of oats. "it's some fun to travel this way when we know we have money enough to pay our way like men," tom reade remarked exultingly. for dick & co. were well supplied with funds. as told in the preceding volume in this series, they had, during july, realized enough from the sale of black bass and brook trout to enable them to have a thoroughly good time during this present month of august. "oh, hazy!" called reade, when it became time to think of supper. "here," reported harry, rising from a cot in the tent and coming outside. "it's time for you and dan to rustle the firewood and bring in more water," reade went on. "all right," agreed hazelton. "where's dan?" where, indeed, was dalzell? that soon became a problem for all five of the other boys. danny grin was nowhere in sight. "dan! oh, dan!" dave shouted. "where is that grinning monkey of a football player?" demanded tom in disgust. "did any of you fellows see him go away from camp?" it turned out that none of them had. "it isn't like dalzell to run away from his share of the work, either," added greg holmes. "if he won't stay and do his share toward getting supper, then he ought to be passed up at table," grumbled darrin. "before we pass sentence," proposed dick, "won't it be better to wait and find out whether he's guilty of shirking this time?" "i suppose it would be better," darrin admitted. so the boys continued their preparations. "what shall we have for the main thing to eat to-night?" dick inquired, after supper preparations were well under way. "canned corned beef?" suggested greg. "that would be about as good as anything," tom nodded. "it means two salted meats in one day, but this country is well supplied with water." "we can't ask danny grin's preference this evening," dick laughed. "i wonder what dan would like, anyway?" "who's taking my name in vain?" demanded a laughing voice, as dalzell appeared between the trees. "oh, you-----" "shirk!" reade had been about to add, when danny held up a fat string of fish. these were horned-pouts, sometimes called "bull-heads." "how many?" asked dick promptly. "nineteen---one for every mile we made in getting close to the creek," dan rejoined. "great!" cried greg. "we haven't had any fish, either, since we returned from our trip to the second lake." "how do you cook bull-heads?" dave wondered aloud. "with the aid of fire," hazy informed him with an air of superior knowledge. "but i mean---i mean------" uttered darry disgustedly, "how do you prepare bull-heads for cooking?" "first of all, you clean 'em, as in the case of any other fish," proclaimed tom reade. "i defy any fellow to dispute me on that point." "and then you wet the bull-head and roll him in corn meal, next dropping him into the pan and frying him to a fine brown," dick supplemented. "but we haven't any corn meal," objected hazy. "yes, we have," prescott corrected. "i saw to that last night. you fellows jump in and clean these fish, fast, while i get out the corn meal and put a pan on the fire." these boys knew much more about cooking than falls to most boys in their teens. frequent camping since their good old days in central grammar school had made them able to cook like veteran woodsmen. within two minutes, fat was sputtering in a hot pan, and dick was shaking corn meal onto a plate. "bring 'em up!" he ordered. "we'll start this thing going." twenty minutes later, using two pans, all the bull-heads had been cooked, and now lay on platters in the oven of the stove. "three apiece, and one left over," greg discovered. "who gets the odd one?" "shame on you!" muttered reade. "the horse gets the odd one, of course." "a horse won't eat fish," holmes retorted. "didn't you ever see a horse eat fish?" tom challenged. "i never did." "well, i don't know that i ever did, either," reade admitted. "so we'll give the odd one to danny grin." "maybe we'll be glad to," laughed dave. "i'm not sure that all these bull-heads were alive when dalzell picked them up." "huh!" snorted dan. nothing spoiled their appetite for the fish, however, which were cooked to a turn and of fine flavor. tom reade, however, got the odd fish as being the only one whose appetite was large enough to permit of the feat of adding it to three other fish. "and now, what are we going to do?" asked dave, after the meal was finished and the dishes had been washed. "who has sore feet?" called dick. not one of the six boys would plead guilty to that charge. "then we won't have to heat water," dick announced. "each fellow can bathe his feet in cold water before turning in. but, when one's feet ache, or are blistered, then a wash in piping hot water is the thing to take out the ache." by nine o'clock all hands began to feel somewhat drowsy, for the day had been warm, and, at last, these youngsters were willing to admit that their road work had been as strenuous as they needed. "but to-morrow we'll do twenty-five miles," dave insisted. "my opinion is that we'll do well if we make twenty miles to-morrow," dick rejoined. "but what are we going to do now?" yawned hazy, as they sat about under the light of two lanterns. "go to bed," declared greg. "hooray! that's the ticket that i vote," announced hazy. "i was just thinking of that mean lawyer we heard about to-day," reade remarked. "i was thinking of the same matter, but more about the poor old peddler," dick stated. "that poor old fellow! i'll wager he has had a hard time all through life, and that he's still wondering why it all had to happen. how old would you say mr. hinman is, tom?" "he'll never have a seventieth birthday again," replied reade thoughtfully. "my! a man at that age ought not to have to bother with working. it's pitiful. it's a shame!" "maybe he finds his only happiness in work," darrin suggested. "i have known old people like that." by this time dan had taken one of the lanterns into the tent, and was undressing. dave soon followed, then greg and hazelton. "do you want to take a little walk down to the road, where we can get a better look at the sky?" dick proposed to reade. "we ought to take a squint at the weather." "that will suit me," tom nodded, so away they strolled toward the road. "if you fellows stay away from camp long, don't you be mean enough to talk, or make any other noise when you get back to the tent," darrin called after them. down by the road there was a breeze blowing, and it was cooler. "i'd like to bring my cot down this way," tom suggested. "there's no law against it," dick smiled. "the owner's permission extended in a general way to all the land right around here." "will you bring your cot, too?" tom asked. "certainly." so, before any of the other fellows were asleep, dick and tom reentered the tent to get their folding cots and bedding. "cooler down by the road, is it?" asked darrin wistfully. "then i'm sorry you didn't find it out before i undressed." "we'll sleep in our clothes," dick replied. "come along, tom, and give the infant class a chance to get to sleep." after lying, fully dressed on their cots, which they placed within ten feet of the road, dick and tom found themselves so wide awake that they lay chatting for some moments. at last reade mumbled his answers; next his unmistakably deep breathing indicated that he was asleep. prescott thereupon turned over on his side and dozed off. it was shortly after their first few moments of sleep had passed that a noise in the road close by awoke both boys. dick sat up leaning on one elbow, listening. someone was coming toward them. as the stranger came closer, dick, his eyes seeing well in the dark, made out the unmistakable form of reuben hinman, the peddler. "what's he doing out here at this hour of the night, and on foot?" wondered dick prescott half aloud. "eh? what?" asked reade in a low, drowsy voice, as he opened his eyes. "it's mr. hinman, the peddler," prescott whispered to his chum. "but i wonder what's wrong with him?" "i wonder, too," reade assented. "one thing is certain; something has happened to him." for reuben hinman half-lurched, half-staggered along, yet his gait did not suggest intoxication. he moved, rather, as one who is dazed with trouble. the old man was sobbing, too, with a sound that was pitiful to hear; as though some great grief were clutching at his heart. chapter v dave does some good work "good evening, mr. hinman!" called dick softly. the old man started, affrighted. "who---who calls?" he quavered. "one of the boys you talked with, this noon." "where are you?" "here," answered dick, throwing his blanket aside, rising and stepping toward the old man, who, more bent than ever, was shaking as though from fright. "don't be afraid of us, sir. can we help you in anything?" "i am afraid not," replied the peddler, then leaned against a tree-trunk, staring, as he tried to stifle his sobs. "what has happened, sir?" asked tom reade, also stepping forward. "i've been robbed!" replied the old man, in a broken voice. "robbed?" repeated dick. "do you mean that some villains have stolen the goods from your wagon?" "no, no!" replied the old man, with sudden, unlooked for vehemence. "i've been robbed, i tell you---my money stolen!" "money?" asked tom in surprise. "how much was taken from you?" "four hundred and eighteen dollars," replied the old man, with a lack of reserve that testified to his confidence in these unknown but respectful and sympathetic high school boys. "all that money?" cried dick. "how did you ever come to have so much about you?" "i owe some bills for goods, over at hillsboro," replied reuben hinman, "and this trip was to take me toward hillsboro. but now-----" he broke off, the strange, rending sobbing returning. "perhaps we can help you, bad as the case looks," tom suggested. "try to tell us all about it, sir." "where did you have the money?" inquired dick. "in a wallet, in this inside coat pocket," replied the peddler, holding his frayed coat open at the right side. "you carried your wallet as conspicuously as that when traveling over lonely country roads?" cried prescott in amazement. "i had a lot of letters and papers in front of the wallet, so that no one would suspect that i had the wallet or the money," explained reuben hinman. "i don't see any papers there now," tom interposed. "they're gone," replied mr. hinman. "probably the thief thought the papers valuable, also, but they weren't.-----" "you were robbed---when?" asked dick. "when i was sleeping." "at some farm house?" reade inquired. "no; i slept on a pile of old rags that i had taken in trade." "in the wagon?-----" from prescott. "yes." "but why did you sleep in the wagon? and where did you have the wagon?" dick pressed. "the wagon was off the road, two miles below here," the peddler explained brokenly. "it would cost me fifty cents for a bed at a farm house, so, when the night is fine, i sleep outdoors on the wagon and save the money. it's cheaper with the horse, too, as i have to pay only for his feed." "but the money?" tom pressed the old man. reuben hinman groaned, but did not take to sobbing again. "i woke up to-night, and found it gone," he answered. "did you feel or hear anyone prowling about, or searching your clothing?" "no; if i had discovered anyone robbing me," shivered the peddler, "i would have caught and held on to him. i have strong hands. i have strong hands. do you see?" holding up his wiry, claw-like hands, the old peddler worked the fingers convulsively. "then how do you know you were robbed, mr. hinman?" dick insisted. "because the money is gone," replied the old man simply. "you searched the rags, and the surrounding parts of your wagon?" reade asked. "young man, you may be sure that i did." "and where were you going when we stopped you?" "for help." "whose help?" dick inquired. "i don't know," replied the old man blankly. "perhaps to a lawyer." "lawyers don't recover stolen property," rejoined reade. "perhaps not," assented the peddler. "the people whom you should see are the local officers," dick assured the old man. "probably they couldn't recover your money, though, since you have no idea who robbed you." reuben hinman groaned helplessly. it was plain to the two high school boys that the peddler had started out, thus, in the middle of the night simply because his misery was too great to permit of inaction on his part. "i wish we could help you," prescott went on earnestly. "why can't you?" eagerly demanded the peddler, as one who clutches at the frailest straw. "call dave, tom. try not to wake the others," murmured dick. then, while reade was gone, prescott asked: "mr. hinman, why on earth didn't you keep your money in a bank, and then pay by check?" "no, no, no! no banks for me!" cried the old man tremulously. "are you afraid to trust banks with your money?" demanded dick incredulously. "no, no! it isn't that," protested the peddler confusedly. "the banks are all right, and honest men run them. but-----" whatever was in his mind he checked himself. it was as though he had been on the verge of uttering words that must not be spoken. dick prescott found himself obliged to turn his eyes away. it was altogether too pitiful, the look in old reuben hinman's shriveled face. in his misery the small, stooped peddler looked still smaller and more bent. tom soon came along, carrying a lantern and followed by dave, the latter yawning every step of the way. "now, which way are we going to look first?" reade inquired. "i've been thinking that over," dick replied. "it seems to me that the sanest course will be to start right at the scene of the robbery. from there we may get a clue that we can follow somewhere." "yes, that's as good a course as any," nodded darrin, who had received some of the particulars of the affair from reade. so the three high school boys started off down the road together, old reuben hinman trudging tirelessly along with them, acting like a man in a trance. at last they came to the old, red wagon. the tethered horse, disturbed, rose to its feet. "now, the rest of you keep away," requested young prescott, "until i've had time to look all around the wagon with the lantern. i want to see if i can discover any footprints that will help." for a considerable radius around the wagon the high school athlete scanned the ground. he could find no footprints, other than those of reuben hinman, and the fresher ones made by himself. "nothing doing in the footprint line, boys," dick called at last. "now, come along and we'll search the wagon." "let me have the first chance," begged dave, taking the lantern. reuben hinman showed where he had slept on the pile of rags, but this was hardly necessary, the impression made by his slight body being still visible. dave began to rummage. at last he got down into the body of the wagon. with the rays of the lantern thus concealed, the other three stood in darkness. "hooray!" gasped dave at last. then rising, leaning over the side of the wagon, he called: "mr. hinman, i've found a wallet, with a lot of greenbacks inside. how much i don't know. please count it and see if all the money is there intact." with an inarticulate cry the old peddler seized the wallet that was handed down to him. he shook like a leaf as tom held the lantern for him to count the money. now that the strain was over, mr. hinman's legs became suddenly too weak to support him. he sank to the ground, tom squatting close so that the lantern's rays would fall where they would be most useful. thus the old peddler counted his money with trembling fingers. "where did you find the wallet?" young prescott asked darrin. "up against the side of the wagon, under a partly tilted, upsidedown feed-pail," dave answered. "i can understand why mr. hinman didn't find it. he was too much upset---too nervous, and it certainly didn't look like a likely place." "it must have fallen out of his pocket as he slept," prescott guessed correctly. "did you find any papers down there on the floor of the wagon?" "yes; some sort of paper stuff," nodded dave. "i took it for rubbish." "the money is all here!" cried the old peddler, in a frenzy of joy. "oh, how can i thank you young men? you don't know what your blessed help means for me!" "was it all the money you had?" dick asked feelingly. "yes; all except for few loose dollars that i have in a little sack in my trousers pocket," replied mr. hinman. "then it was all you had in the world, outside of your peddling stock and your horse and cart?" prescott continued. "all except a little house and barn that i own, and the small piece of ground they stand on," said the peddler. "if i had not found my money i would have been obliged to mortgage my little home to a bank---and then i am afraid i could not have repaid the bank, and my home would be taken from me." "but you would have found the money in the wagon some day soon," suggested dick. "perhaps," replied the peddler. "who knows? perhaps someone else would have rummaged the wagon and found it before i did. oh! it might have been taken a little while ago, even when i was toiling down the road, or talking with you boys at your camp!" he added, with a sudden wave of fright over the thought. "one thing is certain, anyhow, mr. hinman," dick concluded. "someone may have overheard you talking with us about this money. you will hardly be safe here. i urge you to come to our camp, and there spend the night with boys who know how to take care of themselves, and who can look after you at need. you will not be attacked in our camp." reuben hinman eagerly agreeing, dave harnessed the bony horse into the wagon. after a while the red wagon rested within the confines of the camp of dick & co. in the bright light of the morning, harry hazelton was the first to be astir. he saw prescott asleep on the floor of the tent, rolled up in a blanket, while another blanket rested on dick's cot, brought back to the tent, as though some stranger had slept there. outside, attached to the seat of their camp wagon, hazy found a note that mystified him a good deal at first. it read: _"the sun is now well up. i shall go at once to hillsboro, and then my great worry will be over. boys, you will ever be remembered in the prayers of r.h."_ "now, that's mighty nice of r.h., whoever he is," smiled harry hazelton, not immediately connecting the initials with the name of the little, old peddler. nor was it until prescott and reade were astir that harry was fully enlightened as to the meaning of the words scrawled in pencil on the sheet of paper. "you boys call me hazy, and i must look and act the part," laughed hazelton shamefacedly, "when we can have such an invasion of the camp, and such an early get-away with a loaded wagon, and all without my stirring." reuben hinman was on his way, and, all unknown to himself nearer the hour when he would meet the high, school boys under vastly more exciting circumstances. chapter vi the no-breakfast plan "let's get the tent down, fellows," dick called. "greg is loading the bedding on to the wagon now." "haven't, you forgotten something?" danny grin asked. "what?" challenged dick smilingly. "well, a little thing like breakfast, for instance?" "we don't get that until after we've had our swim," prescott rejoined cheerily. "i suppose that's all right," observed tom, his jaw dropping. "still, in that case, mr. trainer, why didn't you camp nearer to a stream?" "the nearest stream fit for swimming is two miles from here," dick replied. "at least, that's what i judge from the map." "there's the creek the bull-heads came from," suggested hazelton hopefully. "that's close at hand." "i know it is," dick replied, "but i've had a look at it. that creek is both shallow and muddy. no sort of place for swimming." one thing these gridley high school boys had learned in the football squad, and that was discipline. so, though there were some gloomy looks, all remembered that dick had been chosen trainer during the hike, and that his word, in training matters, was to be their law. so the tent came down, in pretty nearly record time, and was loaded on the wagon. the horse was harnessed, also without breakfast, and the party started down the road with harry hazelton holding the reins. "i hope it's a short two miles," growled reade to darrin. "humph! a fine indian you'd make, tom!" jibed dave. "an indian is trained in being hungry. it's a part of the work that he has to undergo before he is allowed to be one of the men of the tribe." "that's just the trouble with me," tom admitted. "i've never been trained to be an indian, and i am inclined to think that it requires training, and a lot of it." outwardly tom didn't "grump" any, but he made a resolve that, hereafter, his voice would be strong for halting right on the bank of a swimming place. "can't we hit up the pace a bit?" asked tom. "yes," nodded dick. "all who want to travel fast can hike right ahead. just keep on the main road." tom, greg and dan immediately forged ahead, taking long, rapid steps. "but don't go in the water until we come up," dick called after them. "remember, the morning is hot, and you'll be too overheated to go in at once." "eh?" muttered tom, with a sidelong look at his two fast-time companions. "humph!" then they fell back with the wagon again. "there doesn't seem to be any way to beat the clock to breakfast," observed dan, after he had walked several rods down the road. "i've talked with old soldiers," dick went on, "who have told me all sorts of tales of war time, about the commissary train not catching up with the fighting line for four days at a stretch. yet here you fellows feel almost ill if you have to put off breakfast half an hour. what kind of men would you boys make if it came to the stern part of life?" "if going without breakfast is part of the making of a man," said danny grin solemnly, "then i'd rather be a child some more." "you always will be a child," dave observed dryly. "birthdays won't make any great difference in your real age, danny boy." "after that kind of a roast," grinned reade, "i believe i'll take a reef in a few of the bitter things i was about to say." dick laughed pleasantly. somehow, with the walk, all soon began to feel better. that first fainting, yearning desire for food was beginning to pass. "do you know what the greatest trouble is with the american people?" asked dick, after they had covered a mile. "i don't," tom admitted. "do you, dick?" "i've been forming an idea," prescott went on. "our fault, if i can gather it rightly from what i've been reading, is that we americans are inclined to be too babyish." "tell that to the countries we've been at war with in the past," jeered tom reade. "oh, i guess it's a different breed of americans that we send to the front in war time," prescott continued. "but, take you fellows; some of you have been almost kicking because breakfast is put off a bit. most americans are like that. yet, it isn't because we have such healthy stomachs, either, for foreigners know us as a race of dyspeptics. take a bit of cold weather in winter---really cold, biting weather and just notice how americans kick and worry about it. take any time when we have a succession of rainy days, and notice how americans growl over the continued wet. whatever happens that is in the least disagreeable, see what a row we americans raise about it." "i imagine it's a nervous vent for the race," advanced dave darrin. "but why must americans have a nervous vent?" dick inquired. "in other words, what business have we with diseased nerves! don't you imagine that all our kicking, many times every day of our lives, makes the need of nervous vent more and more pronounced?" "oh, i don't know about that," argued tom. "i hate to hear any fellow talk disparagingly about his own country or its people. it doesn't sound just right. in war time, or during any great national disaster or calamity, the americans who do things always seem to rise to the occasion. we're a truly great people, all right. but i don't make that claim because i consider myself ever likely to be one of the great ones." "why are we a great people?" pursued prescott. "we are the richest nation in the world," argued reade. "that must show that we are people capable of making great successes." "is our greatness due to ourselves, or to the fact that the united states embraces the greatest natural resources in the world?" demanded dick prescott. "it's partly due to the people, and partly due to the resources of the country," dave contended. dick kept them arguing. harry hazelton, as driver, remained silent, but the others argued against dick, trying to overthrow all his disparaging utterances against the american people. finally reade grew warm, indeed. "cut it out, dick---do!" he urged. "this doesn't really sound like you. i hate to hear a fellow go on running down his own countrymen. i tell you, it isn't patriotic." "but just stop to consider this point," prescott urged, and started on a new, cynical line of argument. "i still contend that we're the greatest people on earth," reade insisted almost angrily. "we ought to be, anyway, for americans don't come of any one line of stock. we're descended from pioneers---the pick and cream of all the peoples of europe." but dick kept up his line of discussion until they came to the river for which he had headed them. they followed the winding stream into the woods where the trees partially hid them from the observation of passers-by on the road, from this point they could easily keep a watch on the wagon while in the water. "now, let's sit down and cool off for five minutes," proposed dick, as he filled the feed bag for the horse. "after that we'll be ready for a swim." "but, with regard to what you were saying about frayed american nerves, poor stomachs and all-around babyishness-----" tom began all over again. "stop it!" laughed dick. "we don't need that line of talk any longer." "then why did you start it?" asked dave. "we've covered the two miles that you all thought such a hardship," chuckled prescott. "then you-----" began reade, opening his eyes wider as a dawning light came into them. "come on, dave! catch him! the water's handy!" but dick, with a light laugh, bounded away, shinned up a tree, and, sitting in a crotch, swung his feet toward the faces of tom, dave and harry as they tried to get him and drag him down. "you've got a strategic position, just now," growled reade. "but just you wait until we catch you down on the ground again!" "you fellows must feel pretty well sold," greg taunted them. "i kept out of the row, for i saw, at the outset, that dick was going to start something for the sole purpose of keeping us arguing until we forgot all about our breakfasts." "that's just like dick prescott!" uttered tom ruefully. "we never get to know him so well that he can't start us all on a new tack and have more fun with us." "well, you forgot your supposed starvation, didn't you?" chuckled dick from his tree. two or three minutes later he swung down from the tree to the ground, rapidly removing his clothing and donning swimming trunks. he was not molested; the other five were too busy preparing for the bath. "the water's great to-day!" shouted dick, rising and "blowing" after a shallow dive from a tree trunk at the shore. in a moment they were all in the water. "come on! follow your leader!" shouted tom reade, striking out lustily upstream. "come back and give us a handicap!" roared dave. "how do you expect us to catch you when you get the lead over us with your long legs and arms?" but tom dived under water, swimming there. the others followed suit, each remaining under as long as possible, for, in this "stunt," there was no way of knowing when the leader came up. tom remained under less than fifteen seconds. then, showing his head, and with rapid overhand strokes he made for the nearer bank, slipping ashore and hiding behind some bushes. it was hazy who had to come up first after tom. "whew! tom must have met someone he knows on the bottom," called harry, as greg's head rose above the surface. dave came up next, then dick, and then dan. "tom ought to be a fish!" uttered darrin admiringly. "i stayed under water as long as i could." yet after going a few yards further up stream dick prescott turned, gazing anxiously down stream. "fellows," he suggested, "something must have happened to old tom." "or else he's playing a joke on us," hinted danny grin, suspiciously. "it's some joke to remain under water four times as long as the average swimmer can do it," retorted prescott. "but tom may not be under water," spoke up greg. "he didn't have time to get anywhere else," dave declared. "it may be a joke, but i don't want to take any chances," dick said earnestly. "let's go down stream. spread out, and every now and then bob under and take as near a look at the bottom as you can." "it doesn't look right," dave admitted as they all started back. several times they went under water, the best swimmers among them getting close to bottom. so they continued on down the stream for some distance. "now, all together. go under water all at the same time," ordered dick. below the surface of the river they went. one after another their heads presently appeared above the surface once more. "have you fellows lost anything?" quizzed reade, suddenly appearing on the bank. "that's what i call a mean trick on us!" cried dave, flushing slightly. "you fellows were in for a swim, weren't you?" reade drawled. "you have been having it." with that he took to the water himself. there was something so jovial and harmless about reade that, despite their recent anxiety concerning him, they made no effort to duck him. "the water is fine this morning," called tom presently, as they all swam about. "then why didn't you stay in?" demanded darry rather cuttingly. "say, i'm beginning to feel glad that i waited breakfast for the swim," reade announced. "stick to the truth!" mocked dick. "but i really am beginning to feel that a little exercise is the best course before breakfast," tom declared. "the next thing we hear," scoffed hazy, "you'll be telling us that you really don't want any breakfast." "i'll tell you fellows what i'll do," tom called. "i'll agree to put off eating until noon if you'll all stick to the idea." but that suggestion did not prove popular. "i mean it," reade insisted. "i hardly care, now, whether i eat any breakfast or not." "what's that noise below? come on!" called prescott, landing and running along the bank. tom was close behind him, the others following. in their search for tom they had gotten farther away from the wagon than they realized. during their brief absence from the spot two tramps had come upon the camp wagon and the piles of discarded clothing. it was plain that the wagon contained all that was needed for several meals---and the tramps were hungry. yet the only safe way to enjoy that food would be to partake of it at a safe distance from the rightful owners. for that reason, after a few whispered words, the tramps hastily gathered up all the clothing of the high school swimmers, dumping it in the wagon. then they mounted to the seat. just as dick prescott and his chums broke from cover they beheld the tramps in the act of driving from the woods out on the road. once in the road the tramps urged the horse to a gallop. it was out of the question for the boys, clad as they were in only swimming trunks to pursue the thieves. "i---i---take back all i said about not wanting any breakfast!" gasped tom reade, turning to his dismayed chums. chapter vii making the tramps squirm "you come back here!" screamed danny grin desperately. "haven't time now," called one of the tramps jeeringly, while his companion laid the whip over the startled horse. with such a start as the tramps had they might be able to drive a mile ere the running boys could overtake them. besides, both law and custom forbade six boys clad only in bathing trunks from running along the highway. "you'll find the wagon a few miles from here!" jeered the tramp who held the reins. "we'll leave it when we're through with it. we-----" but further words could not be heard for the wagon had vanished from view at a turn in the road between the trees. "we're in a bad pickle, now!" gasped tom reade. but dick, studying the lay of the land with swift glances, saw just one chance. if the tramps turned the horse in the right direction on gaining the highway----dick broke off his thoughts there. "tom, you and dave pursue a little way and travel like lightning," ordered young prescott. "the rest of you pick up stones! fast! come along now." on reaching the highway the driver was forced to make a little turn in order to cross the bridge, in case he decided to travel in the direction that the boys had been going. so dick dashed ahead, hoping to profit by the one chance he saw. just as luck would have it, the tramps turned in the right direction. the horse, galloping fast under the lash, struck his forefeet on the bridge. whack! clatter! plug! four high school boys, all of them baseball players and proud of their straight throwing, sent a small shower of rocks whizzing through the air. these struck the bridge planks well ahead of the horse. "stop---or the next ones will hit you!" shouted young prescott. just by way of suggestion he threw one stone that flew by within a foot of the nearer tramp's head. holmes duplicated the throw. "stop that!" yelled one of the tramps, but he brought the horse to a standstill. "don't you throw any more stones!" yelled the tramp, as he saw the four ball players poised ready for more work in that line. "then hold the horse where he is until we come and take him," ordered dick. "we won't, and don't you throw any more stones," ordered the tramp. "jerry, turn your pistol loose on the young cubs if they throw another stone. giddap!" "that's a bluff. you haven't any pistol," dick called to the tramps coolly. "just start that horse, and we'll knock both your heads off with stones. we know how to throw 'em." splash! greg holmes had taken to the narrow river. now he was striking out lustily for the other side. in case the horse was started holmes would be there, with a handful of stones with which to bombard the fugitives in passing. "you fellers quit throwing stones, or you're going to get hurt!" but the pause had accomplished the very thing for which dick had waited. "throw another stone," repeated the tramp, "and you'll get-----" "oh, tell it to the senate!" broke in tom reade, climbing into the wagon and seizing the speaker. dave, who had crept up with him, had gripped the other tramp by the collar. both tramps were thrown from the seat. ere they could recover from their astonishment, reade and darrin had leaped down upon their tormentors. "in with them!" ordered dick. two splashes, occurring almost in the same second, testified to the tackling skill that reade and darrin had acquired on the gridiron. dick and his friends stood by to rescue the tramps, in case either of them could not swim. both could, however, and struck out for the shore, abusing the boys roundly as they swam. dave had seized the horse's bridle, and was now turning the animal about. tom walked on the other side of the wagon. "look out, greg!" called dick suddenly, as the tramps, gaining the opposite shore, made a sudden rush at holmes, who stood alone. "i can take care of myself!" chuckled greg gleefully, as dodging backward, he poised his right hand to throw a stone. "look out, friends, unless you want to get hurt!" both tramps halted in a good deal of uncertainty. they wanted to thrash this high school boy, but they didn't like the risk of having their heads hurt by flying stones. two splashes on the other side of the river heralded the fact that dan and harry had started to greg's aid. the instant they saw this, both men turned away from greg, making a dash for the highway. laughing, young holmes followed them up with all the missiles he had left. not one dropped further than three feet from the flying heels of the fugitives, yet not one struck either of the tramps or was meant to do so. "come across, you three fellows," laughed young prescott, when the enemy had vanished in flight. you've all earned your breakfast now, and you shall have it." "as for me," spoke tom from the wagon, as he drove into the forest path, "i'm strong for putting on my clothes before i sit down to dally with food." reade did not wait until he had driven the wagon where he and his friends could dress away from the view of people on the road. "the cast-iron cheek of those scoundrels!" vented dave darrin indignantly. "i rather think we are their debtors," smiled dick quietly, as he drew his shirt over his head. "you do!" demanded darry incredulously. "yes; just think of all the zest they've put into our morning, and they didn't harm us, either." "but just think of what it would have been like if we hadn't stopped 'em!" gasped danny grin solemnly. "we couldn't have chased 'em. it wouldn't have been decent for us to go along the road, making four miles to every five covered by the horse. no, sir! we'd have had to remain hidden in the forest until we could signal some farmer to send to our folks for clothes to put on. wouldn't it have been great, staying in the woods two or three days, with nothing to eat, waiting for the proper clothing to enable us to go out into the world again!" "it was a mean trick!" cried darry hotly; and then he began to laugh as the ridiculous features of the situation appealed to him. "but nothing serious happened," laughed dick, "so we owe that pair of tramps for a pleasant touch to the morning's sport." "i wonder how many years since either of them has had a bath, until this morning," grinned reade, as he began to lace his shoes. as reade was dressed first, dick called to him: "take the horse out of the shafts, tom, and let him feed in comfort." "you may," laughed reade. "as for me, i've flirted with my breakfast so long this morning, and have taken so many chances of not having any, that now i'm going to make sure of that first of all." so dick himself attended to the horse. dan was already gathering firewood, which dave piled into the stove in the wagon. soon water was boiling, coffee was being ground, tins opened, and a general air of comfort and good fellowship prevailed in that forest. "we'll have to give you the palm for being a good trainer, dick," declared tom, taking a bite out of a sandwich and following it with a sip of coffee, "but you have one short-coming. you're no fortune teller. so, as you can't foretell the future, i vote that, after this, we breakfast in the morning and swim later in the day. it would affect my heart in time, if we had to battle every morning for our breakfast in this fashion." "i can't get over the impudence of those tramps," muttered darry, as he set his coffee cup down. "they couldn't hope to get away with the horse and wagon and sell them in these days of the rural telephone. they couldn't use our clothing for themselves. and yet they stole all we had in order to get hold of our food. at that, they didn't care what became of us, or how long we had to travel about in these woods without food or clothing." "the tramps must be optimists," laughed prescott. "probably they had an abiding faith that all would turn out well with us, and so proposed to help themselves to what they needed." "i wonder whether they'll fool with our outfit again," pondered tom grimly, "if they come across it in our absence." "i don't know," said dick gravely. "as you've already reminded me, i am no foreteller of the future." chapter viii when the peddler was "frisked" it was a hot and dusty road that lay before them when they again took up their march that day. yet dick prescott insisted that, despite the late start, they must count upon covering twenty miles for that second day. at night they halted on the edge of woods so far from the nearest farm house that prescott did not consider it necessary to hunt up the owner and ask permission. "now, we'll have to see if we can find water here," dick proposed. "let's scatter, and the fellow who finds drinkable water must let out a yell to inform the others." "i'll save you some trouble," reade offered. "you fellows needn't hunt water at all. give me the buckets and i'll go and get it." "have you been in this part of the country before?" asked dick. "no; and i don't need to have been here before in order to know that this ground is full of water," replied reade, who was full of practical knowledge of that sort. "if i were a civil engineer, out with a field party, i'd mark this section 'water' on the map. look at the ground here under the trees. it's as moist as can be." tom departed, but barely two minutes had elapsed when he was back with two pailfuls of water as clear as crystal. "it's nearly as cold as ice water," tom announced. "there's a bully big spring just a few steps back in the woods." "then i'm going to use some of this to wash up," darrin declared. "i'll go with you on the next trip, tom, and help carry the water." "you'd better wait until we get the tent up before we wash," suggested prescott. "then you'll need it more." quick work was made of the encamping. dan and greg, from the wagon, passed down the tent itself, the floor boards and joists, the cots and bedding and some of the food supplies. then all hands quickly put up the tent. reade and hazelton had the flooring down in a jiffy. dan and greg put up the cots, while dick and dave set up the folding camp table and started the fire in the stove with a bundle of fagots brought in by hazelton. "now, get busy with the wash-up," dick called. within thirty minutes after halting, supper was on the table. "how far from a swimming place this time?" tom asked. "three miles, if i've studied the map right," replied prescott, taking the road map from his pocket and passing it over. "to-morrow," said dave, "some of us will swim in plain sight of the outfit all the time." "do you think you can hike three miles and swim before breakfast in the morning?" asked dick. "the way i feel now," said tom, pushing his campstool back from the table, "i shan't need anything to eat to-morrow." "you must feel ill, then," declared danny grin. "no; i feel just filed up enough to last for two or three days," sighed reade contentedly. harry and greg were a bit footsore, but the other boys claimed to feel all right. "do any of you feel like taking an evening walk?" asked dick with a smile. "i do," darrin declared promptly. "not i," replied tom. "at least not so soon after supper." "shall we try the walk?" dick asked darrin. "i'm ready," dave agreed. "come along, then." though it was dark, the two boys decided not to take a lantern with them. "we don't need one on a public highway," said dick as they plunged off down the dark road. "how far shall we go?" darrin asked. "i think two miles away from camp and two miles back, ought to be far enough," dick replied. "if we feel like going farther, we can tackle it when the time comes," darrin answered. "but how shall we judge the distance?" "we'll walk briskly for thirty-five to thirty-eight minutes," prescott suggested. "then we'll turn back. while we're out we may get some idea of whether there's a swimming place nearer than three miles from camp." neither felt in the least footsore. indeed, these two hardy high school boys thoroughly enjoyed their tramp in this cooler part of the twenty-four hours. "i wish we could live outdoors all the time," murmured darrin, as he filled his lungs with the fine night air. "a lot of folks have felt that way," smiled dick. "the idea is all right, too, only the work of the civilized world couldn't be carried on by a lot of tramps without homes or places of business." "i've heard, or read," darry went on, "that a tramp, after one season on the road, is rarely ever reclaimed to useful work. i think i can understand something of the fascination of the life." "i can't see any fascination about being a tramp," prescott replied judicially. "first of all, he becomes a vagabond, who prefers idleness to work. then, too, he becomes dirty, and i can't see any charm in a life that is divorced from baths. from mere idleness the tramp soon finds that petty thieving is an easy way to get along. if i were going to be a thief at all, i'd want to be an efficient one. no stealing of wash from a clothes-line, or of pies from a housekeeper's pantry, when there are millions to be stolen in the business world." "now, you're laughing at me," uttered dave. "no; i'm not." "but you wouldn't steal money if you had millions right under your hand where you could get away with the stuff," protested darry. "i wouldn't," dick agreed promptly. "i wouldn't steal anything. yet it's no worse, morally, to steal a million dollars from a great bank than it is to steal a suit of clothes from a house whose occupants are absent. all theft is theft. there are no degrees of theft. the small boy who would steal a nickel or a dime from his mother would steal a million dollars from a stranger if he had the chance and the nerve to commit the crime. all tramps, sooner or later, become petty thieves. thieving goes with the life of idleness and vagabondage." "i don't know about that," argued dave. "a lot of men become tramps just through hard luck. i don't believe all of them steal, even small stuff." "i believe they do, if they remain tramps," dick insisted. "no man is safe who will deliberately go through life without earning his way. the man who starts with becoming idle ends with becoming vicious. this doesn't apply to tramps alone. any day's newspaper will furnish you with stories of the vicious doings of the idle sons of rich men. unless a man has an object in life, and works directly toward it all the time, he is in danger." "i'd hate to believe that every ragged tramp i meet is a criminal," dave muttered. "he is, if he remains a tramp long enough," dick declared with emphasis. "take the tramps we met this morning. look at all the trouble they were taking to rob us of food for a meal or two." "there may have been an element of mischief in what they did," dave hinted. "they may have done it just as a lark." "they were thieves by instinct," dick insisted. "they would have stolen anything that they could get away with safely. hello! there's a light over there in the woods." "another camping party?" dave wondered. "tramps, more likely. suppose we speak low and advance with caution until we know where we are and whom we're likely to meet." in silence the high school boys drew nearer. the light proved to come from a campfire that had been lighted some fifty feet from the road. "yes, you have!" insisted a harsh voice, as the boys drew nearer. "don't try to fool with us. turn over your money, or we'll make you wish you had!" "why, it's our tramps of this morning," whispered dave. "and look at that wagon---the peddler's!" dick whispered in answer. "come, now, old man! turn over your money, unless you want us to frisk you for it!" continued a voice. "there are your honest tramps, dave," prescott whispered. then his eyes flashed, for, by the light of the campfire the lads saw the tramps seize frightened reuben hinman on either side and literally turn him upside down, the old man's head hitting the ground. "don't make any noise," whispered prescott, "but we won't stand for that!" "we surely won't!" darry agreed with emphasis. "come on, now---soft-foot!" as the tramps jostled mr. hinman, upside down and yelling with fright, a sack containing the peddler's money rolled from one of the peddler's trousers pockets. "shake him again! there'll be more than that coming!" jeered one of the tramps. but just then they let go their hold of the old man, for dick prescott and dave darrin rushed in out of the darkness, dealing blows that sent the tramps swiftly to earth. yet the two high school boys were now doomed to pay the penalty of not having scouted a bit before rushing in. for the two tramps were not the only ones of their kind at hand. out of the shadows under the surrounding trees came a rush of feet, accompanied by hoarse yells. then, before they had had time fully to realize just what was happening, prescott and darrin found themselves suddenly in the midst of the worst fight they had ever seen in their lives. "beat 'em up!" yelled the man whom dick had knocked down. "i know these young fellers! they put up a bad time for us this morning. beat 'em up and make a good job of it, too." there was no use whatever in contending with such odds. yet dick and dave fought with all their might, only to be borne to the ground, where they received severe punishment. chapter ix dick imitates a tame indian "hello! hello!" yelled tom reade, pacing up and down the road with his lantern, holding his watch in the other hand. "oh, dick! dave!" but up the road there sounded no answer. looking utterly worried, reade came back into camp. "i don't like the looks of this, fellows," he announced. "there's something wrong. something has happened to one or both of the fellows. they left here before eight o'clock, and now it's twenty minutes of eleven. if everything had been all right, they'd have been back here by half-past nine o'clock at the latest." "suppose we haul down the tent, pack the outfit and move on down the road, looking for some trace of them," proposed greg. "no; that would delay the start too much," tom replied, with a shake of his head. "whoever goes out to hunt for dick and dave must move fast and not be tied to a horse and wagon. i'm going, for one. who will go with me?" "i will," promptly answered dan, harry and greg, all in one breath. "we'll have to leave one fellow to watch the camp," reade answered, with a shake of his head. "hazy, i'm afraid the lot will have to fall to you." "i'd rather go with you," hazelton declared. "of course you would," tom assented. "but at least one good man must stay here and look after our outfit. so you stay, harry, and dan and greg will go with me." "going to take the lantern?" asked greg, jumping up. "yes," tom nodded, "but we won't light it unless we need it. just for finding our footing at some dark part of the road the electric flash light will do." full of anxiety the trio set out on their search. but in the meantime, what of dick and dave? theirs had been a busy evening. after the first rough pummeling, which left them breathless and sore, the tramp who had directed the rough work turned to his friends of the road. "these young gents have furnished us with some exercise," he grinned wickedly. "now, suppose we make 'em supply us with a little amusement?" "it's risky, close to the road," returned one of the tramps who had been back in the shadows. "we don't know when someone will come along and butt in on our sport." "two of our crowd can go out as scouts," replied the ringleader. "they'd better," nodded the adviser, "and even then we'd better take the cart, the old man and these young gents further back into the woods." neither dick nor dave had said anything so far, for they were too sore, and too much exhausted. at the leader's command two men went down to the road, to watch in both directions. "give the whistle---you know the one---if anyone comes along that's likely to spoil the fun," was the ringleader's order. reuben hinman had been deprived of the last dollar in money that he had with him. quaking and subdued, the old man obeyed the order to mount his cart and drive the rig farther into the woods. "take the young gents along, and see that they behave themselves," directed the ringleader. dick and dave did not yet feel in condition to offer any resistance or defiance. even with the two "scouts" out on the road there were still six of the tramps left to take care of them. the odds looked too heavy for another fight it when the last one had been so unsuccessful. as dick and dave got to their feet and started along, followed and watched by the tramps, dick tottered closer to his companion, managing to whisper: "we've got to gain time, dave. pretend to be weak---crippled---badly hurt." that was all. prescott fell away again without his whisper having been detected by their captors. before quitting the spot near the road the ringleader had scattered the campfire so effectually that the embers would soon die out. a full eighth of a mile back from the road the order was given to hinman to rein in his horse. "we're far enough from the road, now, so that we ain't likely to be spotted," said the boss tramp. "now, let's see what these young gents can do to amuse us. maybe they know how to sing and dance." but dick had sunk wearily to the ground, forcing his breath to come in rapid gasps. "get up there, younker," ordered the boss tramp. "you've hurt me," moaned dick, speaking the truth, though trying to convey a stronger impression than the facts would warrant. "and we may hurt you more if you don't get cheerful and help make the evening pass pleasantly," sneered the boss tramp harshly. "wait till i---get so---i can get my breath---easier," begged dick pantingly. the boss turned to darrin. "young fellow, wot can you do in the entertaining line?" demanded the fellow leeringly. "nothing," dave retorted sulkily. "after you've kicked a fellow so that he's so sore he can scarcely move, do you expect him to do a vaudeville turn right away?" "get 'em on their feet," ordered the boss tramp. "we'll show 'em a few things!" but dick protested dolefully, sinking back to the ground as soon as the tramp who had hold of him showed a little compassion by letting go of his arm. "give me time, i tell you," dick insisted in a weak voice. "don't try to kill us, on top of such a thrashing as you gave us." "let go of me," urged darry still speaking sulkily. "if you want anything better than a sob song you'll have to give me time to get my breath back." as though satisfied that they could get no sport out of the high school boys for the present, the tramps allowed them to lie on the ground, breathing fitfully and groaning. dick was watching his chance to get up and bolt, depending upon his speed as a football player to take him out of this dangerous company. darrin was equally watchful---but so were the tramps. plainly the latter did not intend to let their prey get away from them easily. as for reuben hinman, obeying a command, the peddler had alighted from his wagon and now sat with his back against a tree. he had no thought of trying to get away, well knowing that his aged legs would not carry him far in a dash for freedom. the peddler's wearied horse stood and dozed between the shafts. "it's about time for you younkers to be doing something," urged the boss tramp, after some minutes had slipped away. "if you'll find the strength for me to stand up," urged dick, "maybe i can dance, or do something." "did we muss you up as much as that?" demanded the boss tramp. "it serves you right, then. you shouldn't have meddled in our pastimes. maybe it was all right for you fellers to get your horse and wagon back this morning, but you shouldn't have meddled to-night." "i guess maybe that's right," nodded darrin sulkily, "but you went in too strong in getting even. you had no call to cripple us for life." "oh, i guess it ain't as bad as that," muttered the boss tramp, though there was uneasiness in his voice. so the tramps sat and smoked about a fire that one of their number had lighted. another fifteen minutes went by. "come, it's time for you fellers to get busy, and give us something---songs, dances, comic recitations, or something like that. that's what we brought you here for," declared the boss, rising and prodding darrin with one foot. but dave gave forth no sign. his eyes were half open, yet he appeared to see nothing. "here, what have you been doing to my friend?" demanded dick, crawling as if feebly over to where darry lay. "great scott! you haven't injured him, have you?" dick acted his part as well as dave did, but the boss tramp was not inclined to be nervous. "no," he retorted shortly. "we haven't done much to either of you young fellers not a quarter as much as we're going to do if you don't both of you quit your nonsense soon. help 'em up, now." dick allowed himself to be lifted to his feet and supported in a standing position by one of the most powerful-looking of the tramps. darrin, however, continued to act as if he were almost lifeless. "give him the water cure," ordered the boss tramp, in an undertone to one of his confederates. going to the peddler's wagon the one so directed took down a pail. he went off in the darkness, but soon came back with a pail of water. slipping up slyly, he dashed the water full in darry's face. with a gasping cry of rage dave darrin started to spring to his feet. then, remembering his part, he sank back again to the ground. "raise him," directed the boss tramp. "he'll find his legs and stand on 'em. we are not going to let this show wait any longer!" so dave was roughly jerked to his feet. he swayed with pretended dizziness, next tottered to a tree, throwing his arms around it. "you start something!" ordered the boss tramp of prescott. feeling that now the chance might come for both of them to make a break for liberty, dick answered, with a sheepish grin: "if i can get wind enough i'll see if i can do an indian war song and dance." "go ahead with it," ordered the boss. "it sounds good." once, three or four years ago, dick had heard and seen such a war song and dance done at an indian show in the summer time. "i'll see if i can remember it," he replied. crooning in guttural tones, he started a swaying motion of his body. gradually the unmelodious noise rose in volume. brandishing his hands as though they contained weapons, he circled about the tree, gradually drawing nearer to darrin. "that song is mighty poor stuff," growled one of the tramps. "ready, dave! make a swift break for it!" whispered prescott. chapter x reuben hinman proves his mettle uttering a loud whoop, dick pushed dave lightly. at the same instant both young football players gathered for the spring, then started to speed away. but they had had no chance to be quick enough, for some of the tramps had moved closer. both fugitives were seized, and now the battle was on again---two boys against overwhelming odds. right at the outset, however, a new note sounded. "go into it!" roared tom reade's voice. "give 'em an old-fashioned high school drubbing." three more figures hurled themselves into the fray. and now, indeed, the battle raged. on the part of the high school boys there was no longer any thought of retreat, though it was still a matter of six men against five lads. in the excitement of their friends' arrival, dick and dave were able to wrench themselves free. though those on the defense were boys, they were boys of good size, whose muscles had been hardened by regular training, as well as by grilling work on the football field. reade, in his first onset, hit one of the tramps such a blow that the fellow went to earth, where, though conscious, he preferred to remain for a while. then it was five against five. but dan soon got in a belt-line blow that put another tramp out of the fight. from the road the two scouts ran up. when they saw, however, how the fight was going, they slunk off. it was soon all but over. the boss tramp, however, armed with a club, crept up behind prescott, aiming a savage blow at his head. the blow would have landed, but for a new interruption. with a cry that was more of a scream of alarm, old reuben hinman threw himself forward into the fray. both his lean arms were wrapped around the tramp's legs. down came the tramp, just as dick wheeled, falling heavily across reuben hinman, knocking the breath from the peddler. tom and dave seized the boss tramp, as he tried to get up, hurling him back to the earth and sitting upon him. "let me up! lemme go!" yelled the tramp. "keep cool," advised tom. "you're likely to stay with us a while." "don't let him go," cried prescott. "that wretch has all of mr. hinman's money in his pockets." "he'll give it up, then," guessed reade. "come back here, you men!" roared the boss tramp, finding that all his fellows had fled. "call 'em all you want," mocked reade. "they won't come back. they're too wise for that." dick, having given the order for the holding of the one tramp who remained, now gave all his attention to reuben hinman. "the poor old man must be rather badly hurt," prescott declared. "i can't get him to talk. did you fellows bring a lantern with you?" the lantern was lit and brought forward. "i don't know what the matter is with him," said dick at last. "but that's all the more reason why we must get him where he can have attention. the village of dunfield is four miles below here. we must get him there at once. and we'll march the hobo there, too, in the hope that the village has a lock-up." "it hasn't," snarled the tramp. "oh, we wouldn't take your word on a vital point like that," jeered darry. "the first thing you'll do will be to give back this poor old man's money," dick went on, eyeing the tramp. "i haven't got it," came the prompt denial. "i turned it over to joe and bill, and they've got away with it." "you're not going to like us a bit, my man," smiled prescott. "we are not the kind of fellows to take your word for anything. we're going to see whether or not you have the money. we're going through your clothing for it. poor old mr. hinman will need it for the care that i am afraid he is going to require. search the fellow, tom." greg now aided dave in holding the vagabond. the tramp made such a commotion during the search that dick and greg added their help in holding him. out of a trousers' pocket tom dragged the peddler's money sack. it was still tied. "let me have it," said dick, and took it over by the campfire, where he untied the sack and peered into it. "there's a roll of bills and at least ten, dollars in change in the sack," dick announced, "so i think that none of the money has been taken." "that's my money you've got," snarled the tramp. "tell that to the senate!" tom suggested. greg and dan now aided dick in lifting mr. hinman to the floor of his wagon, where they laid him on a pile of rags. mr. hinman was breathing, and his pulse could be distinctly felt. "dave, i guess you and i had better go along with the wagon," dick suggested. "now, see here, tom, you and the other fellows go back to camp and act just as if we were all there. start in the morning, as usual. you ought to be in fenton by noon to-morrow. if dave and i don't join you before that time, then you'll find us at fenton." "what are you going to do with the hobo?" reade wanted to know. "roll him over on his face and tie his hands. then we'll hitch him to the back of mr. hinman's wagon, and i'll walk with him and see that he goes along without making trouble, while dave drives." at this moment reade alone was occupied in sitting on the captive, dave having risen when it was suggested that he go with dick to dunfield. "here---quick!" yelled reade, as the boss tramp gave a sudden heave. but like a flash the hobo sprang up and darted off through the darkness. tom, dave and dan started in swift pursuit, but the tramp soon doubled on his pursuers in the darkness and got away. "let him go," counseled dick. "we've enough else to occupy our attention." so greg ran out to pass the word to the pursuers to discontinue the chase. tom, when he returned, was very angry. "you'd no business to leave the fellow like that, darry," he growled, "and i was a big fool not to be better on my guard. that fellow will make trouble for us yet---see if he doesn't." "there was no use in chasing him any further, if he eluded you in the darkness," dick remarked. "dave, you get up on the wagon beside mr. hinman. i'll drive his horse." only as far as the road did tom reade, dan and greg accompany them, going ahead with the lantern to show the way. "now, you know the plan, tom," dick called quietly. "fenton---at noon to-morrow." "good luck to you two!" called reade. "and keep your eyes open for trouble." "it will be someone else's trouble, if we meet any," laughed darrin gayly. "i wonder how it was that tom and the other fellows didn't run into one of the scouts that the tramps had out," said dick, after they had driven a short distance. "tom told me that they did catch a glimpse of a scout prowling by the road side, so they went around him," darrin replied. "they slipped past the fellow without his seeing them." as dick held the reins he also eyed the dark road closely as they went along. he was not blind to the fact that the tramps might reassemble and rush the wagon, for these vagabonds would want both the peddler's money and what they would consider suitable revenge on the high school boys, for their part in the night's doings. however, the village of dunfield was reached without further adventure. dave woke up the head of a family living in one of the cottages, and from him learned where to find the local physician. then dick drove to the medical man's house. dr. haynes came downstairs at the first ring of the door bell, helping the boys to bring the still unconscious peddler inside. there, under a strong light, with the peddler stretched on an operating table, the physician looked reuben hinman over. "i can't find evidence of any bones being broken," said the physician. "it's my opinion that shock and exhaustion have done their work. reuben is a very hard-working old man." "then you know him?" dick asked. "everyone in this part of the country knows reuben," replied the doctor. "he's one of our characters." "he must have a hard life of it, and make rather a poor living," prescott suggested. "i guess he would make a good enough living, if-----" began the physician, then checked himself. "are you going to bring the man to consciousness, doctor?" asked dave. "yes; after i get a few things ready. i don't believe we'll have much trouble with him, though we'll have to get reuben home and make him rest for a few days." "where does he live?" dick inquired. "in fenton. reuben has a queer little old home of his own there." "has he a wife?" dick asked. "she died fifteen years ago." "are there any children to look after mr. hinman?" darry asked. "he has children, but---well, they don't live with him," replied dr. haynes, as though not caring to discuss the subject. then the physician went to work over the peddler, who presently opened his eyes. "drink some of this," ordered the physician. "now, you begin to feel better, don't you, reuben?" "yes; and i've got to get up right away and see what i can do about getting back my money," cried the peddler. "don't try to get up just yet," ordered dr. haynes. "if your money is worrying you, mr. hinman, i have it," dick broke in, showing the sack. a cry of joy escaped the peddler. he sank back, murmuring: "you're good boys! i knew you were good boys!" "you take the money, doctor, if you please, and turn it over to mr. hinman when he's able to count it," urged prescott, handing the sack to their host. "now, mr. hinman will want to sleep a little while, so we'll go outside and chat, if you've nothing pressing to do," suggested the physician. dick and dave thought they might learn more about the odd peddler, but reuben hinman's affairs was one subject that the physician did not seem inclined to talk about. "now, if you young men want to take reuben over to fenton," said dr. haynes, at last, "i'll telephone dr. warren from here, and he'll be expecting you. it'll take you about two hours to get over to fenton at the gait that old reuben's horse travels." this time a mattress was placed on top of the pile of rags, and the peddler was made as comfortable as possible for the trip. "remember, reuben, you've got to stay in the house and take care of yourself for three or four days," was dr. haynes' parting injunction. "i can't spare the time from my business," groaned the old man. "you'll have to, this time, reuben, as the means of being ready to do more business. so be good about it. you have two fine lads taking care of you to-night." "i know that, doctor." it was five o'clock in the morning when dick and dave drove into the main street of fenton. yet they found an automobile in the road, and dr. warren, a very young man, hailed them. "drive right along, boys. i'll show you the way to the house," called the fenton physician. it was a very small and very plain little house of five rooms into which reuben was carried, but it was a very neatly kept little house. reuben hinman was put to bed and made as comfortable as possible. "are there any relatives to take care of this man?" dick asked. "there are relatives," replied dr. warren, with an odd smile, "but i guess we won't ask any of them to care for reuben. there are a couple of good women among the neighbors, and i'll call them to come over here soon." it was after six in the morning when dr. warren left the peddler, with two motherly looking women to take care of him. dr. warren, after some conversation with the boys, returned to his home. "as this is where we're going to meet tom and the other fellows," said dick, "i propose that we see if we can find a restaurant and have something to eat. then we'll try to hire a couple of beds and leave a call for noon. i'm both hungry and fagged out." they found the restaurant without difficulty, and also succeeded in hiring two cots in an upstairs room over the restaurant. "reuben hinman is becoming a good deal of a puzzle to me," murmured dave darrin, as the chums ate their breakfast. "he's almost a man of mystery," agreed dick, "though not quite, except to us. i imagine that these fenton people know all about our peddler friend." "both doctors seemed to know a lot about the old man," remarked dave thoughtfully. "yet it was strange; neither of them would really tell us anything definite about mr. hinman." "if doctors told all they know about people." smiled dick, "i believe that life would become exciting for a while, but before long there would be fewer doctors in the world than there are now." at just twelve o'clock dick and dave were called. they sprang up, somewhat drowsy, yet on the whole greatly refreshed. after washing they dressed and went forth in search of their camp outfit and friends. chapter xi tom idealizes working clothes after the reunion at fenton the high school boys enjoyed many days of "hiking" and of all-around good times, yet nothing happened in that interval that requires especial chronicling. nor in that time did dick & co. hear any more of reuben hinman, as they were now some distance from fenton. "we'll make ashbury to-night," dick announced one morning. "we'll go about two miles past the town, halt there for two or three days' rest, and then---back to good old gridley for ours." "gridley's all right. fine old town," tom declared. "but as for me, i wish we didn't have to go back there for another two months, instead of feeling that we have to be there in a fortnight from now." "this has been a great hike," dick agreed, "and a fortnight of life of a kind that has had nothing but joy in it. yet we've the years ahead to think of, haven't we?" "what has that got to do with going back to gridley?" demanded danny grin. "well, what are we going to the high school for?" questioned dick prescott. "i'm going because the folks send me," dan declared. "can't help myself." "don't you want to get anywhere in life?" "i suppose i do," dalzell assented half dubiously. "danny boy, i'm ashamed of you," dick exclaimed, though his eyes were smiling. "are you content, dan, to grow up and use your fine muscles in performing the duties of a day laborer?" "not exactly," dan answered. "you'd rather be president of a big railroad company?" "yes, if i had to choose between the two jobs." "then perhaps you can get a glimmering of why you're in high school," dick went on. "when you compare the railway president and the laborer, the difference between them lies a good deal in the difference in their natural abilities. yet a lot depends, too, upon the difference in their training. you don't find many college graduates wielding the pick and shovel for a living, nor many high school graduates doing so, either. by the way, dan, what are you going to do in life?" dalzell shook his head. "then within the next year you had better go after the problem and make your decision hard and fast. fasten your gaze on something in life that you want, and then don't stop traveling until you get it, and it's all yours! a boy of seventeen, without an idea of what he intends to do in life has already turned down the lane that leads to the junk heap. get out of that road, danny!" "what are you going to do in life yourself?" challenged danny grin. "i'm going to west point if there's any possible chance of my winning the nomination from our home district. there's a vacancy to be competed for next spring." "some smarter boy may win it away from you," danny grin retorted. "he'll have to hustle, then," dick rejoined, his eyes flashing. "but suppose you do lose the nomination and can't go to west point---what will you do then?" "i have plans, in case i can't get to west point," prescott answered quietly. "however, as yet i won't admit the defeat of my west point ambition." "i'd try for west point myself, if it weren't for dick being in the way," greg declared. "but i never could get past dick in an exam." "if you want it, come on and try," begged dick. "our congressman gives the nomination to the boy in the district who can stand up best under an exam. go in and try for it, greg! work like a horse when high school opens. you might get it." "and take it away from you?" blurted holmes. "if you can get it from me, you ought to do it, holmesy. the best men are needed in every walk of life. i'll promise, in advance, not to be 'sore' if you can win it away from me." "yes! i'd try all winter," scoffed greg, "and then in the end some sad-eyed fellow from a back-country village would bob up and win it away from us both." "let the sad-eyed fellow have it, if he is the better man," dick agreed heartily. "but fear of defeat isn't going to hold me back. don't let it stop you, either, greg!" "it's going to be annapolis for mine---the united states naval academy and a commission in the united states navy!" darry declared, his eyes snapping. "i'd rather like that, too," danny grin declared. "then go after it," urged dick prescott. "get some real plan in your mind of what you're going to do in life, and then follow that plan, night and day, until you either win or drop from exhaustion." "wouldn't i be a funny-looking lamb in a midshipman's uniform?" queried dalzell blinking fast. "no funnier looking than any of the rest of us," dick retorted. "now, tom isn't talking much, but we all know what he's going to do, for he has already been working at it. he has been studying surveying, for he means to make a great civil engineer of himself one of these days." "and i'm going into the game with him," declared hazelton. "that's because you've always had tom about to tell you what to do, and to keep you from butting your head into things in the dark," jeered danny grin. "hazy, you're going to become an engineer just because you shiver at the thought of trying to do anything in life without having old tommy long-legs to advise you when to wash your face or come in out of the rain." "harry is a pretty bright surveyor already," tom declared. "he has been keeping mum about it, but harry can go out into the country with a transit and run up the field notes for a map about as handily as the next kid in his teens." "i should think you'd like the army or the navy, tom," mused dalzell aloud. "nothing doing," reade retorted. "i want to be one of the big and active men of the world, who do big things. i want to map out the wilderness. i want to dam the raging flood and drive the new railroad across the desert. i want to construct. i want to work day and night when the big deeds are to be done. that's why i wouldn't care for the army or navy; it's too idle a life." "an idle life!" exclaimed dick and dave in the same breath. "yes," tom went on dryly. "did you ever see an army or a navy officer?" "i've seen several of them," dick replied, "and have talked with some of them." "same here," added darrin. "did you see the officers in uniform?" reade pressed. "yes, of course-----" said prescott. "their uniforms were nice and neat, weren't they?" tom asked. "of course," prescott answered. "then that was because your army or navy officers hadn't been doing any hard work that would ruffle the neatness of their uniforms," finished tom triumphantly, "and there you are! i can dress up on sundays or holidays, but on the work days, when i'm a civil engineer, i want to wear clothes that show that i'm not afraid to tackle the rough and hard things of life." "then you might join dan in being a day laborer," teased dick laughingly. "oh, no! i want to use my brain along with my muscles, and that's why i'm going to be a civil engineer." "army a navy officers may have had an easy time of it once," dave went on warmly, but times have changed. our fighting men, to-day, are obliged to hustle all the time to keep up with the march and progress of science. i asked an army officer, once, what he did in his spare time. he looked at me rather queerly, then replied, 'i sleep.'" "he was lazy as well as offensively neat, then," laughed tom. "as for me, i enjoy my old clothes, and that is one of the reasons why i'm having so much fun out of this trip. i don't have to dress up!" "you'd feel first rate if you could be dressed up for a few hours, go into a hotel dining room, have a good meal and then slip into a ballroom for a dance," laughed prescott. "bosh!" flared tom. "i'm no dandy, and all i want is to be a man." "how do you stand, harry?" grinned dave darrin. "do you agree with tom that dirt is the best stuff with which to decorate one's clothing?" "i never said that," broke in tom hotly. "i'm as ready for a bath and clean clothing as any of you. i like to wear old clothes---not soiled ones!" "if anyone happens to overhear us talking," laughed hazy, "he'll think that we're all planning to take up prize fighting as our work in life." "i don't like to hear the officers of the army and navy scoffed at as a lot of idling, time-wasting dandies," darry asserted. "and i don't like to be accused of liking dirt on my clothes, just because i am going to be a civil engineer," tom explained in a milder voice. an ideal bit of green forest, at the edge of a limpid lake, appealed to dick & co. as the noon stopping place. "i've a good mind to fish," remarked danny grin. "go ahead, if you want to," dick assented, "but we've got a lot of fresh meat that we simply must cook this noon, for it may not keep until night." "it would take you an hour or more, even though the fish bit readily, to catch enough fish to feed this little multitude," tom remarked. "i don't want to wait that long for my meal to-day." "i don't believe i want to wait, either," dalzell agreed, and gave up the idea of fishing. luncheon went on in record time that morning. it was not later than half-past eleven o'clock when they sat down to the meal, and but a few minutes past noon when the dishes were stacked up, ready to be washed. "whizz-zz!" whistled dave, as the sounds made by a swiftly driven automobile reached their ears. "someone is hurrying to get his noon meal. just hear that old spurt wagon throb!" the boys sat some hundred feet in from the highway. the automobile did not interest them much until----bang! then the car stopped with a scraping sound. "gracious!" exclaimed danny grin, jumping up at the sound of the explosion. then he sat down once more, looking sheepish. "give up the annapolis bee, danny boy," laughed tom. "that was nothing but a tire blowing out. if you got into the navy, and a fourteen-inch gun went off when you weren't expecting it, you'd be half way to the planet neptune before your comrades could call you back." "how easily we make light of other people's troubles," mused prescott. "what makes you say that?" asked darrin. "why, for instance, that party down in the road has been stopped by a blown-out tire. probably they were in a hurry to get somewhere, too. now, they're delayed perhaps a half an hour, but it doesn't give us a flicker of concern." "it interests me, anyway," reade announced, rising. "anything in the mechanical line does. it may even be that the man driving that car doesn't know just how to put on a new tire. i'm going to saunter down and see." five members of dick & co. didn't take the trouble even to glance keenly at the halted car. tom took a dozen steps, then suddenly shouted back: "fellows, your indifference will vanish, now. look who's here!" chapter xii trouble with the rah-rah-rahs a broad-shouldered man, his back to dick & co., was assisting a middle-aged woman to alight from the car. as tom's voice reached their ears five girls exclaimed in delight, then began to wave their hands in most friendly fashion. dick & co. were on the run by this time, for the broad-shouldered man was dr. bentley, the woman mrs. bentley, and the five girls laura bentley, belle meade, susie sharp, clara marshall and anita murray. "hm! young men, i'm beginning to feel annoyed," remarked dr. bentley with pretended severity, though he shook hands pleasantly enough with the boys. "whenever mrs. bentley and i take some of laura's friends for a spin anywhere you appear to have our route and you bob up on the map." "then we'll withdraw, sir, at once," dick suggested. "no, you won't," retorted the doctor. "young reade is engaged, on the spot, to help me fit on a new tire. perhaps hazelton will help. the rest of you may disappear, and take the ladies with you, if you will. yet, really, it looks as though you learn our route and follow it." "that isn't fair, doctor," dave rejoined. "we're on foot, and have been away from gridley for something over a fortnight. it is you who must have been following us, with that seven-passenger automobile of yours. and may i remind you, sir, that you wouldn't have bursted the tire if you hadn't been driving at something under a hundred and eighty miles an hour in the effort to overtake us?" "i'm beaten", laughed dr. bentley. "i take it all back. i agree that the appearances are all against me. but i didn't know that you young scions of gridley were on the road. i was driving fast in order to bring the ladies to ashbury in time for luncheon. and now, they won't get it." "small loss to them, and great gain to us," smiled dick. "we have provisions enough in our wagon to offer all the luncheon that your party can possibly care to eat." "no, no! we've encroached upon your hospitality too often in the past," replied dr. bentley, with a shake of his head. "we won't be delayed long. just how long, reade, do you think it is going to take us to fit on the new tire?" "the car ought to be ready to run again in fifteen minutes," tom answered truthfully. "and we can make ashbury in another fifteen minutes," laura's father continued. "so we won't rob the pantry of dick & co. to-day." dick and three of his chums conducted mrs. bentley and the five high school girls in under the trees. of course the girls wanted to see the outfit, though it was now packed on the wagon. "are you going far, this trip?" dick inquired. "ashbury will be the end of our run," mrs. bentley answered. "and of ours, too," dick nodded. "we agreed to that this morning." "but we are to stay at ashbury two or three days," laura added. "dad has been making arrangements for us at the hotel there, and he calls it a fine summer place. we know some people who are stopping there now, so we are going to have a pleasant little time of it, i expect. when do you reach ashbury, dick?" "to-night," prescott answered. "mother," laura went on, "aren't you going to invite the boys to luncheon at the hotel tomorrow?" "i shall be delighted to do so, if they will accept," replied mrs. bentley smiling. "we'd cause a sensation in the hotel, wouldn't we?" laughed danny grin, looking down ruefully at his dusty "hike clothes." "you have other clothing with you, haven't you?" asked susie sharp. "nothing better than what we're wearing now," greg replied. "come, just the same, anyway," urged mrs. bentley. "you boys are on a rough trip, and you're not expected to have large wardrobes with you. so i shall expect you all at the ashbury terraces by noon to-morrow." "and there's to be a dance there to-morrow night," belle continued, a trifle mischievously. "of course, you will come to the dance." "yes---if you invite us!" dick took up the challenge thus unexpectedly. "then you're surely invited," laughed susie sharp. "aren't they, mrs. bentley?" "yes; if they promise to come," agreed the doctor's wife. "and, perhaps, they would rather dine than lunch with us, and then they can attend the dance after dinner." "that would be much better, thank you," dick replied gratefully. but the other fellows eyed him askance, in wondering amazement. what on earth could dick mean by accepting for himself and chums a dinner and dance invitation when they had nothing to wear save their road-worn and travel-stained hiking clothes? "dick is getting careless---making such an engagement for us for to-morrow evening," tom confided to hazelton, when the news was related to him. "well, you won't need to mind, anyway," laughed harry gleefully. "you, of all fellows, can't kick, tom, after the way you've been glorifying life in one's working clothes." dr. bentley was delighted to have such capable young men as reade and hazelton on hand to put on the new tire, for the man of medicine, though a clever surgeon in some lines, was but little of a machinist. he worked with finer tools than those that his repair box carried. twenty minutes later the new tire was on and had been pumped up. "all ready!" sang out tom. "you might have dallied longer on that job," dick answered reproachfully. "are you anxious to keep us hungry girls away from our luncheon that much longer?" cried susie sharp. "well, whose fault is it that you are not having your luncheon, here and now?" smiled prescott. "you didn't like our cooking, though." "don't i?" chirped miss sharp. "if it weren't for making you vainer than you are, dick prescott, i'd tell you that the trout luncheon you gave us at the second lake still lingers in our memories." regretfully, the boys escorted the high school girls down to the road, assisting them and mrs. bentley into the car. "to-morrow evening, then!" called mrs. bentley. "be at the hotel by half-past five o'clock, won't you?" "without fail," dick smiled back, "unless circumstances beyond our control prevent us." good-byes were eagerly called, dr. bentley warmly expressing his thanks to reade and hazelton for their assistance. then, with a warning honk, the big car started away. then all hands turned upon dick. "prescott, why on earth did you let us in for a dinner and dance to-morrow night?" quivered greg. "look at us---the only outside clothes we have with us!" exploded danny grin. "we're frights!" chimed in dave. "we'll disgrace the girls," blurted tom, "unless in the meantime we can find some real tramps with whom to trade clothes." "we'll feel ashamed enough to drop, when we get among civilized folks," moaned harry. "this is a fine chance to prove or disprove tom's theory that a fellow ought to feel most at home in his old working clothes," chuckled dick. "was that why you did it---accepted that dinner and dance invitation?" gasped dave. "partly," laughed prescott. "i won't go!" flared reade, his face showing red under its heavy coat of tan. "oh, yes, you will," dick insisted, "or else admit that you perjured yourself when you idealized your working duds this morning." "and are you really going to-morrow night?" greg insisted. "i certainly am," young prescott affirmed. that was too much of a poser for the other members of dick & co. nothing more was said on the subject, though the five boys did considerable thinking. toward five o'clock they came in sight of ashbury. a few minutes later they had reached a point where the highway turned into one of the streets of the town. here a uniformed bell-boy from the ashbury terraces hotel approached them. "is mr. prescott in this party?" he inquired. "that's my name," dick answered. "then i am requested by dr. bentley to guide you to a camping place inside the terraces' grounds," replied the bell-boy. "dr. bentley has arranged it with the manager." this was a surprise, indeed, but dick & co. followed their guide, who turned in through a gate at some distance from the handsome summer hotel. their guide led them to a grove on a broad terrace, from which the high school lads had an excellent view of one of the porches of the hotel. "look at the smartly dressed people over there!" groaned greg, as soon as the bell-boy had left them. "look at those girls, in their gowns of white lace! look at the fellows over there, in flannels and white duck! look at-----" "shut up!" commanded tom hoarsely. "don't rub it in." "dick," suggested darry, with some bitterness, "we'll feel like princes in our flannel shirts and khaki leggings, won't we?" "i've an idea," offered danny grin. "by way of dressing up we can leave off our khaki leggings and give our trousers an extra brushing all around. we'll look quite respectable, after all!" "gentlemen," remarked tom reade solemnly, "i have the honor to make a motion to the effect that messrs. darrin, holmes and dalzell be appointed a committee of three to take dick prescott away and drown him in the nearest sizable body of water!" "carried!" proclaimed hazelton. instead, however, all hands fell to work putting up the tent and preparing for supper. "rah, rah, rah!" rose joyously on the air. then, out of the woods behind the camp appeared eight young men in multi-colored raiment. gorgeous bands surrounded their straw hats; their blazer coats resembled so many rainbows. yet, apart from their coats of many colors, these young men were smartly dressed, and it was plain that they carried with them considerable of an estimate of their own importance. their average age appeared to be about twenty-one years. "rah, rah, rah!" rang the chorus again. then one of the eight, moving in advance of the others, called back: "fellows, what have we here?" "gipsies!" called another. "plain hoboes!" from a third. "it's a gang of juvenile desperadoes escaped from some reformatory," declared a fourth. "rah, rah, rah!" with noisy yells the eight young men descended upon the camp. "don't you think you'd better steer off?" called dave, putting himself as much as he could in their way. "why, it talks!" cried one of the rah-rah-rah fellows, in mock astonishment. "just like a human being!" added a third. "wonder what these animals are doing here?" propounded another. so they invaded the camp, poking their heads in at the tent entrance, examining the wagon with a good deal of curiosity, and poking into the boxes containing the food that dick and greg had just laid out with a view to starting preparations for supper. "now, gentlemen," called dick, "if you think your curiosity has been sufficiently gratified, do you mind clearing out and letting us alone?" a variety of mocking replies greeted that proposition. "we don't like to be disagreeable, you understand," dave hinted, "but, really, we begin to feel that we have had a great sufficiency of your company, gentlemen." "what are you going to do about it?" demanded one of the eight intruders rather aggressively. dave darrin doubled his fists, ready to fight, now, at any further provocation. even good-natured tom looked about for some sort of club. but dick answered, coolly: "what are we going to do? first of all, we are merely going to suggest for your consideration the idea that gentlemen don't remain where they're not wanted." "freshie!" yelled one of the eight contemptuously. "toss him in a blanket," advised another. "we don't mind your presence as much as your bad manners," dick remarked coldly. "will you kindly take your leave?" "no!" shouted three or four of their tormentors derisively. dave, his fists still clenched, bounded forward. one chap, in an especially brilliant blazer, reached out to box darry on the ear. that blow never landed, but the tormentor did---on the earth. _"eight rainbow hoboes, looking for life's leaven, one bumped his eyelash, and then there were but seven!"_ improvised danny grin joyously. "clean out this camp!" yelled one of the others. "come on and do it, then!" yelled tom reade, losing all patience at last. dick & co. suddenly presented a solid fighting rank that had accomplished great things on the gridiron. in this formation they advanced toward their tormentors. there might have been an ugly clash, but one of the eight shouted: "come on, fellows! don't tease the babies. they haven't had their warm milk yet." away darted the rainbow eight, darrin's victim being on his feet by this time and foremost in the retreat. "rah, rah, rah!" came back on the air as the high school boys broke a formation for which they had no further need at present. "those fellows are plainly guests at the hotel, and we're going to have trouble with them yet," prescott predicted wisely. chapter xiii a snub and the quick retort at half-past five o'clock the next day, dick & co. strolled up to the porch of the ashbury terraces hotel. from one of the parlors a cry of recognition in a girlish voice floated out. then appeared the gridley high school girls, with susie sharp in the lead. "i thought you told us you didn't have any other than your hike clothing with you!" susie cried accusingly to tom reade. "we didn't. we told you the truth," reade rejoined. "then these-----" "these new clothes were bought with money from the treasury," reade informed her. "does our appearance suit you, ladies?" greg asked smiling. "you look like so many tailor's models," replied belle meade, adding, sweetly: "if that is any praise." certainly dick & co., clad in well-fitting white duck suits, presented a creditable appearance. "we've been preparing our friends at the terraces for a different looking lot of young men," laughed susie. "we have told them that a number of high school boy friends of ours were coming over to dinner and the hop attired in the same clothes they have been wearing in camp and on the road. now we must apologize to them for presenting fashion plates." the explanation, as dick presently furnished it to laura bentley, was a simple one. dick had been handling the funds of the six boys on this expedition, which had held out much longer than any of his chums had known. at the time of accepting the invitation young prescott had felt sure that an ashbury clothier would be able to furnish proper clothes for his party, and his guess had proved a correct one. moreover, the treasury of dick & co. had been easily able to endure the drain, for these white clothes had not been costly. mrs. bentley presently joined the little gridley group of young people on the veranda. that good lady noted, with secret pleasure, the well-groomed appearance of her young guests. "rah, rah, rah!" came boisterously up the veranda, as the camp visitors of the evening before suddenly appeared. "rah, rah, rah!" then, halting in a compact group midway on the veranda, they shouted in chorus: "s-a-u-n-d-e-r-s! saunders! saunders! siss-boom-a-a-ah! rah, rah, rah!" "college boys!" exclaimed susie sharp in an impatient undertone. "college boys, and the worst of their kind. they're noisy nuisances!" "so far as any other guest has been able to discover they haven't any manners," belle added. then, espying the girls and their guests the rah-rah-rah boys came briskly up the veranda. "good evening, miss meade!" called one of them, lifting his hat. "glorious evening, isn't it? how many dances may i have the honor of claiming at the hop to-night?" belle meade blushed slightly and drew back a step, resenting the young man's familiarity. in front of the presumptuous youth stepped dave darrin, with eyes flashing. "kindly keep your distance, young man!" dave advised, in a tone of dangerous quiet. "who asked you to speak?" inquired the rah-rah youth mockingly. "i am a friend of the young lady, and she finds your presence an intrusion," replied darry, controlling himself by a mighty effort. "all guests of the hotel are supposed to be acquainted," urged the rah-rah youth, reddening a trifle. "these young ladies do not wish to recognize you and your friends as acquaintances," replied dave. "kindly efface yourselves!" "don't make your lack of breeding too conspicuous," dick advised, in a quiet undertone, to another of the intruders who had pushed forward to join in the conversation. a sudden sense of discomfort seemed to sweep over the eight presuming young men. they turned and moved away, though muttering among themselves. "that is the kind of young men i thought they were," laura observed. "i am glad that you boys sent them off about their own affairs." dr. bentley joined the young people last of all. "i have just returned from a long walk," he explained. "i have to make the most of these brief summer vacations of mine." when dinner was announced, dr. and mrs. bentley and the young people took seats at a long table reserved for their party. it was a pleasant meal in the midst of an animated scene. over at another table the rah-rah boys made a good deal of noise until the head waiter went to them, uttering a few words in low tones. after that the rah-rah youngsters quieted down considerably. a delightful half-hour stroll on the verandas followed the dinner. then, like most of the guests, the gridley young people drifted into the hotel ballroom where the musicians were playing a march. dick secured mrs. bentley for the first dance, as the doctor preferred to remain on the veranda. then, after the first dance, a general change of partners was made. but the gridley boys were too well bred to claim all the dances with their girl friends. laura and her friends had other acquaintances at the hotel. dick & co. stood back to give these other young men a fair opportunity of securing some dances with the girls. it was eleven o'clock when the hop had finished. for a few moments dick & co. chatted with the gridley high school girls on the porch. then they prepared to take their leave. "we've had a splendid time, for which we must thank you all," dick declared. "we did not look for any such pleasant evening as this has been when we left home on our hike." "we are indebted to you all for the most delightful time of our lives," tom stated formally with a very low bow. "we couldn't have had a nicer time under any circumstances. thank you all," dave darrin said, on taking leave. the other boys found words in which to fitly express their pleasure and gratitude. then, as mrs. bentley and the girls went in side the hotel, the gridley high school boys wheeled to march back to camp. "i wonder what the head waiter said to the rah-rah boys?" asked reade curiously. "i don't know, but i can guess the meaning of what he said," laughed darry. "did you ever see such an ill-bred lot of fellows before!" "they're not college boys," dick declared quietly. "i don't know where they came from, but certainly none of them have ever been through as much as a year in any real college." "they're about as frisky as some college boys," retorted danny grin. "college boys may be full of mischief, at times," dick returned, "but at least they know how to behave well when they should do so. college men never think it funny to be rude with women, for instance. college men are usually the sons of well-bred parents, and they also acquire additional finish at college. moreover, the english language is one of the subjects taught in colleges. these cheeky rah-rah boys were very slip-shod in their speech. i don't know who these fellows are, but they're not real college men." "say, it must be nice," remarked hazelton, "to be able to travel about the country, stopping at such nice hotels. laura and her friends manage to have pretty good times." "their families are all better off than ours, in a worldly sense," dick replied. "when you stop to think of it, there are far more girls than boys in our good old high school who come from comfortable homes. perhaps two dozen of our high school fellows come from homes of considerable wealth. the rest of us don't. more than half of the gridley high school girls come from families where servants are kept. i wonder if it is that way, generally, in the united states?" prescott had unwittingly stumbled upon a fact often noted. the homes of plain american wage earners send more boys than girls to high school. the well-to-do families send more of their boys to private schools, while their girls are more likely to attend high school. however, as the boys neared their camp, all other thoughts were driven from their minds. tom reade, who was leading, stopped abruptly, holding up one hand. "now, what do you think of anyone who would do a trick like that?" he demanded with a sharp in-drawing of his breath. "the sneaks!" breathed darry fiercely. "who could have done it?" gasped greg. for the tent was down---flat. the wagon lay on its side, nor was the horse anywhere in sight. "did those rascally tramps follow us and watch their chance?" demanded dave darrin hotly. "i don't believe the tramps did it," spoke prescott, in a very quiet voice, though an angry flush rose to his face. "i believe that we must look in a different direction for the offenders." "the rah-rah hoodlums?" gasped greg holmes. "yes," dick nodded. chapter xiv dick & co. make an apple "pie" "then i wish we had 'em here!" sputtered tom reade vengefully. "i could eat two of them at this moment, and without salt!" "they need salting badly!" growled dave darrin angrily. the tent was not only down. each guy rope had been cut in the middle, so that the cordage could not be used again. "i never saw anything more sneaking!" cried reade in rage and disgust. "unless it will be the way that we shall sneak up behind the rah-rah crowd and square matters!" remarked darry meaningly. "first of all, we must be sure of their guilt," warned dick. "it won't do to try to even up a score that's based only on suspicion. wait until i get a lantern out of the wreck, and then we'll explore the ground to see if we can discover any real proof against the rascals." "let's get into our working clothes first," proposed reade. "we might want to wear these white clothes again before we get home." so tom and dave held up a part of the canvas while dick slipped in under the folds of the tent to find the box in which they had left their hike clothing. "the box isn't here," dick called. "neither can i see any of the bedding." "get hold here, fellows, and lift up more of the canvas," reade called. "there isn't anything in the tent. all the stuff has been cleaned out." prescott announced in a voice of disgust. "it was the tramps, then," dave declared. "the rah-rah boys wouldn't take the risk of stealing anything." "hold on! i've found a lantern," called prescott. "i'll come out with that." he appeared a moment later, lighting the lantern. "now, let's see what we can find," he urged. not far away the high school boys came upon the prints of sharp-toed shoes. "the tramps didn't wear shoes that would make these prints," declared dick. "neither do any of our crowd. fellows, we owe our surprise to the rah-rah humorists." "then we'll pay 'em back in good measure," cried darry in exasperation. after some searching dick & co. came upon their clothes chest, at a distance of some hundred yards from camp. the chest had not been rifled, for it was locked and the key rested in dick's pocket. "help me with it, tom, and we'll carry it back," said prescott in a low, hard tone. "we need our working clothes at once, for there is work to be done to-night!" the needed change of costume was quickly made. off came the white suits, which were carefully folded and put away. then on went the khaki and flannel clothing. "dan, you stay with the tent," dick ordered, with the air of a general. "greg, you and harry make it your main business to see if you can find the horse. the rest of us will concern ourselves with finding out whether the rah-rah fellows are still outside the hotel." "here's the horse---grazing," shouted greg, two minutes later. "run back, dave, and pilot greg and harry here, after they've staked the horse down," prescott suggested. "we don't want to make too much noise, for our tormentors may yet be about somewhere." "hazy stumbled upon some of the blankets," greg announced, when he and harry joined dave. "i don't believe any of our stuff has been carried off, dick. it has just been scattered." "perhaps we'd better gather in all our camp stuff first, then," dick decided. "we can't afford to lose any of our camp outfit." ten or fifteen minutes of searching, with the aid of the lantern, resulted in recovering all of their scattered possessions, even to the last of the cots, pillows and blankets. "now, let's make a sweep of the dark parts of the hotel grounds, and we may happen upon the rah-rahs, still chuckling over the fun they've had with us." but the five boys had not gone far when they were stopped by a well-dressed young stranger of about twenty. "mr. prescott?" asked the stranger. "yes," nodded dick. "i am one of the bell-boys at the hotel. when i went off duty i asked the manager's permission to change my uniform for citizen's clothing and watch those eight noisy fellows." "the college boys?" asked harry quickly. "they're not college boys!" returned the young stranger. "they've been giving a fake saunders yell, and that was what made me dislike them, for i've just finished the sophomore year at saunders myself. i'm working at the terraces as bell-boy to help pay next year's tuition at saunders. the manager permitted me to watch those fellows, but somehow they got away from me. i got track of them again near to your camp. just as i came along they were scooting away, but a glance showed me the mischief they had worked, so i followed them." "do you know where they are now?" dick asked eagerly. "i know where they were ten minutes ago," replied the bell-boy. "then please take us to them as quickly as you can," begged darry vehemently. "i'm fairly aching to pass the time of night with them!" "i'll do it," agreed the bell-boy. "follow me, please." "i wonder why they went to all that trouble to be so disagreeable to us," prescott muttered, as the little party strode along. "you had some dispute with that crowd, on the hotel porch to-night, didn't you?" asked the bell-boy. "yes; they tried to address some of our girl friends, whom they didn't know and we objected to their insolence." "that was what made the rah-rah boys sore," went on the bell-boy. "i heard them talking about it before i left them. it seems, too, that the manager sent the head waiter to stop their nonsense in the dining room to-night. for some reason these sham college boys blame you fellows for that humiliation also. so they're chuckling over what they've done to your outfit to teach you to mind your own business, as they put it." "i hope we catch up with 'em before they get back to the hotel," uttered tom fervently. "but warn us, please, whenever we get so close that they're likely to hear our voices." the bell-boy now led them through an orchard. "there seem to be a lot of apples on the ground," remarked prescott, halting. "green ones---they're no good," replied the bell-boy. "then they are good---just what we want!" ejaculated prescott. "hold on, fellows! fill your hats with these apples." "what are you going to do when you come upon these fellows?" asked the bell-boy. "scuttle 'em---the way they did our tent!" tom retorted. "i hope you pay them back generously," muttered the bell-boy. "i've a score to settle with them for trying to blacken good old saunders! but see here! up to date, at least, they're guests of the hotel, and i'm an employe there. now, if they get too much the better of matters in a scrimmage, i'll sail in with you boys, even though i have to resign my hotel job. but, if i see that you can handle 'em all right, i shall just stand by without taking any part in the fight" "we understand your position, and appreciate it," dick replied. "we thank you, too, but we believe that we can take care of them all by ourselves. if we can't, then we'll take our drubbing." "you boys have done some things in athletics, haven't you?" asked the bell-boy, noting the way that each of the five present members of dick & co. carried himself. "gridley high school football team last season," dick replied, a trace of justifiable pride in his voice. "you were?" demanded the bell-boy eagerly. "then shake! my name is gerard. we know a lot about the gridley high school brand of football at saunders." introductions were quickly passed. "now, i'd like to feel that i'm really one of you, and i'll fight shoulder to shoulder with you!" chuckled gerard. "please don't try to take a hand in any fight that may occur," prescott begged. "if you're working your way through college, just keep your eye on your job. don't mix up in any trouble with the guests." "we'll soon be at the spot where i left the bunch," said gerard, a few moments later. over a rise of ground the bell-boy led dick & co. then he pointed to a little grove of chestnut trees. "there is the rah-rah crowd," he whispered. "you see, they have one of your lanterns, and they're lunching on some of your food supplies that they brought along with them." "i wonder what those freshies are saying now," came in a laughing voice, from the rah-rah group under the chestnut trees. "their potted chicken is all right, anyway," laughed another. "cut me off another slice of the bread. whee! this college mischief on a dark night gives one an appetite." dick gave whispered instructions to his own forces, then signed to gerard, who drew back into the shadow. "i'd like to see the fresh kids now," jeered another rah-rah youth. "may all your wishes in life be as promptly fulfilled!" muttered tom reade under his breath. "we might have had a nice time to-night dancing with the girls from gridley if their kid friends hadn't stepped in and spoiled it all in their juvenile way," grumbled another. "we've finished up all the borrowed food," said another. "what shall we do next?" "for 'next,'" roared dick prescott, "you fake collegians will stand up and take your medicine!" there was instant consternation in the group under the chestnut trees. all the rah-rah boys leaped to their feet, but, ere they could stir, there was a whizzing sound on the air. plunk! plunk! ker-plunk! missiles were flying through the air and the rah-rahs were stopping a good many of them with their own persons. "hey! stop that!" bellowed one of the rah-rahs. "you---wow!" for his utterance had been for the moment stopped by a large-sized green apple that had struck him full in the mouth. "hey! let up!" but nothing could stay the fast and furious volley of green apples until dick & co. had exhausted their ammunition. most of the shots found targets, too. once they had had time to recover from their bewilderment the rah-rahs turned in full, inglorious flight, without attempting to strike a single blow in their own defense. who was going to be fool enough, anyway, to run blindly into a storm of flying green apples? dick and his chums expended the last of their ammunition while chasing the rah-rahs. their missiles gone, the gridley boys put on full speed, ran after and overhauled some of their late foes and drubbed them well. but at last, by common consent, dick & co. came to a halt. "i reckon we paid the score," laughed prescott. "they ought to let us alone hereafter." "no doubt they will," replied gerard grimly, coming up with the gridley boys. "i haven't a doubt that the manager will order them to leave the hotel in the morning." after extending their heartiest thanks to gerard, the gridley boys returned to their camp. there, from their supplies, they rigged new guy-ropes and erected their tent. soon after, all hands turned in, feeling quite secure against another visitation that night. the manager, at first, the next morning, said nothing whatever to the rah-rah youths. but, at about ten o'clock a constable appeared and gathered in all of them on a charge of disturbing the peace. dick & co. were not even asked to go the justice's court. the hotel manager and bell-boy were on hand, but the crest-fallen lot of rah-rah youths all pleaded guilty. they paid fines of ten dollars apiece. then, on their return to the hotel, they were informed that their rooms were wanted at once. the manager and gerard personally escorted the rah-rah boys off the grounds of the ashbury terraces, and they were seen no more thereabouts. who they were was not learned, but gerard's word was accepted that the rah-rah boys had no connection with saunders college. dick & co. had two more pleasant meetings with their high school friends before an about-face was made, and the return hike to gridley started. their liveliest adventures were yet ahead of them. chapter xv making port in a storm "did you ever see a blacker, more peculiar looking cloud coming than that one?" demanded tom reade, as the high school boys emerged from the gloom of a long, narrow forest road into comparatively open country. "is it a coming storm, or an optical delusion?" pondered dick, halting and staring hard. "it looks like pictures i've seen of water spouts," greg declared. "that's what it is," dick replied quietly. "though i've never seen one before, it's hard to be fooled, for that chap looks just like his published photographs. and look at that queer, brownish, half-yellowish sky back of it. it certainly looks forbidding." "and we're going to have a stormy afternoon of it!" muttered dave. "the waterspout will go by to the north," reade conjectured, studying the oddly-shaped, rapidly moving and twisting blackish cloud, "but we're going to be right in line with the main storm that is traveling with it." "and we've got to prepare against the weather, too!" dick cried, with sudden realization. "fellows, the storm that is coming down on us isn't going to be any toy zephyr!" after leaving ashbury the boys had decided to return to gridley by a different road. "there's the place for us, if we can make it!" cried dick an instant later, pointing toward the slope. "dave, whip up the horse. he has to travel fast for his own safety. tom and greg, you get behind and push the wagon up the slope. we'll all help in turn. but hustle!" the crest of the rise of ground being made, the boys found themselves entering another forest. dick here found the ground as favorable to his purpose as he had hoped it would be, for on the further side the land sloped downward again, and was well-wooded. "drive in there!" called prescott, pointing, then ran ahead to find the best spot for pitching the tent. "whoa!" yelled prescott, when he had reached the spot that he judged would do best for camp purposes. "now, dave, go over to the other side of the horse! help me to get him out of the shafts. the poor animal must be our first consideration, for he can't help himself. the rest of you unload all the stuff from the wagon as fast as you can move." slipping the harness from the horse, dick fastened a halter securely, then ran the horse down into a little gully where the animal would be best protected from the force of the wind that would come with the storm. driving a long iron stake into the ground, dick tethered the animal securely. then he ran back to help his chums. "here's the best site for the tent," prescott called, snatching up a stick and marking the site roughly. "now, hustle! no; don't use the wooden stakes for the tent ropes. drive the long iron stakes, and drive them deep!" then prescott ran back with oats and corn for the horse, leaving a generous feed for the animal. "you'll need plenty to eat, old fellow, for the storm is going to be a long and cold one." then prescott ran back at full speed to his chums who were erecting the tent. first, the four corner stakes were driven, and the guy-ropes made fast. "greg and dan can drive all the other pins, if they hustle," dick announced. "tom, you and dave get the floor planks down, and rig up the stove---inside the tent." "there won't be time to lay the flooring," reade objected, taking a hurried squint at the now more threatening sky. "there's got to be time to lay the flooring, unless you all want to sleep in water to-night," dick insisted. "harry, just break your back with the loads of wood that you bring in. i'll fill all the buckets with water." in ten minutes more everything had been carried inside the tent. big drops of rain were beginning to patter down. "we've everything ready just in time to the minute," tom reade observed with a satisfied chuckle. "not everything quite ready," prescott retorted. "tom, if you're going to grow up to be an engineer there's one thing more you should see the need of." "what?" challenged reade blankly. "get the pick and shovel! you and i will do it. let the rest get in under shelter!" standing in the rain, tom and dick hastily dug two ditches at either end of the tent. these ditches were no creditable engineering jobs, but they would, at need, carry a good deal of water down the slope. by this time the rain was falling heavily. in the distance heavy thunder volleyed, and the sky was growing blacker every minute. "one more job," called dick. "dave and greg, tumble out with the shelter flap!" this was a great sheet of canvas that had to be fastened in place over the tent roof, and at a different pitch. "we'll be drowned before we get the shelter flap in place," grumbled tom. "and we might as well be out in the rain, if we don't have it up," dick retorted. "open her up! now, then---up with it!" the shelter flap was placed with difficulty, for now the wind was driving across the country, blowing everything before it. the other two boys leaped out to help their chums. the shelter flap was made secure at last, the ropes being made fast to the surrounding trees. by this time the wind was blowing at the rate of fifty miles an hour. the sky was nearly as black as on a dark night, while the rain was coming down "like another niagara," as harry hazelton put it. "we don't care whether we have a dry tent or not, now," laughed dan dalzell, as the six boys made a break for cover. "we're soaking, anyway, and a little more water won't hurt." "i'll get a fire going in the stove," dick smiled. "soon after that we'll be dry enough---if the tent holds." the stove was already in place, a sheet-iron pipe running up one of the tent walls and out through a circular opening in the canvas of the side wall opposite from the wind. while dick was making the fire, tom reade filled, trimmed and lighted the two lanterns. "listen to the storm!" chuckled prescott. "but we're comfy and cheery enough. now, peel off your outer clothes and spread them on the campstools to dry by the fire. we'll soon be feeling as cheery as though we were traveling in a pullman car." within a short time all six were dry and happy. the lightning had come closer and closer, until now it flashed directly overhead, followed by heavy explosions of thunder. not one of the boys could remember a time when it had ever rained as hard before. it seemed to them as though solid sheets of water were coming down. yet the position of the tent, aided by the ditches, kept their floor dry. dan, peering out through the canvas doorway, reported that the ditches were running water at full capacity. "this will all be over in an hour," hazarded greg. "it may, and it may not be," dick rejoined. "my own guess is that the storm will last for hours." as the howling wind gained in intensity it seemed as though the tent must be blown to ribbons, but stout canvas will stand considerable weather strain. "if we had driven the wooden pins for the guy-ropes," muttered greg, "everyone of them would have been washed loose by this time." "they would have been," dick assented, "and the tent would now be down upon our heads, a drenched wreck. as it is, i think we can pull through a night of bad weather." in an hour the flashes of lightning had become less frequent. the wind had abated slightly, but there was no cessation of the downpour. "i pity anyone who has to travel the highway in this storm," muttered dave. "this isn't weather for human beings." "yet every bird of the air has to weather it," observed hazelton. "yes," muttered tom, "and a good many of the birds of the air will be killed in this storm, too." night came down early. the wind and rain had sent the temperature down until it seemed to the high school boys more like an october night. the warmth and light in the tent were highly gratifying to all. "as long as the tent holds i can't think of a blessed thing we have to go outside for," sighed reade contentedly. "we don't have to," laughed dick. "fellows, we're away off in the wilderness, but we're as happy as we could be in a palace. how about supper?" that idea was approved instantly. "we'll have two suppers to-night," proposed tom. "that will be the visible proof and expression of the highest happiness that can be reached on a night like this." even by ten o'clock that night there was no abatement in the volume of rain falling. the wind still howled. "are we going to turn in, soon?" inquired dave. "my vote," announced tom indolently, "is for another supper, and turn in at perhaps two o'clock in the morning." "i second the motion---as far as another supper goes," chimed in danny grin. "it wants to be a supper of piping hot stuff, too," declared greg. "it's warm here in the tent, but the surrounding world is chill and drear. nothing but hot food will serve us." preparations for the meal were quickly under way. "i hope everyone within the reach of this storm is as comfortable as we are," murmured hazelton. "why, we're so happy, we could entertain company with a relish," laughed reade. "say, what was that?" demanded greg. from outside came a faint sound as of someone stealthily groping about outside in the storm. "bring a lantern, quickly!" called dick, going toward the tent door. as greg played the rays of light against the darkness outside, dick suddenly sprang forth into the dark. then he returned, bearing in his arms the pitiful little figure of old reuben hinman, the peddler. "look at his head!" gasped reade, in horror, as prescott entered with the burden. from a gash over the peddler's left temple blood was flowing, leaving its dark trail over the peddler's light brown coat. dick carried the stricken old man straight to his own cot, laying him there gently. "who can have done this deed?" gasped greg, throbbing with sympathy for the poor old man. outside other approaching steps sounded. dave and tom, snatching up sticks of firewood, sprang forward. chapter xvi home, hospital and almshouse greg flashed the lantern on four hulking, bedraggled ragged men. "hello! it's the same kids!" cried a hoarse voice out in the storm. "they'll be glad to see us." "you keep out of here!" ordered reade, thrusting his stick at the face of the first tramp---the boss tramp---who tried to enter. "no!" countermanded dick prescott. "let even the hoboes come in. let anyone come in on a night like this." "now, that's decent of you," admitted the boss tramp, as he sloshed heavily in, followed by three companions. two of these tramps had been with the "boss" on another well remembered occasion. the third was a stranger to dick & co. "my, but you've got a real house in here a true port in a storm," observed the boss tramp, as he halted to stare about him. "friends, this is the best thing we've seen today." "it is," agreed the other tramps solemnly. the glance of the newcomers did not rest upon the face of reuben hinman, for prescott had gently spread a blanket so that it effectually concealed the little old peddler. "what have you men been doing?" asked dick, straightening up and eyeing them coldly, steadily. "drowning in the woods," replied the boss, "for we knew we couldn't find a house or barn within two miles, and the road is like a river you need a boat for travel to-night. when the storm came we men made a brush lean-to and kept as dry as we could under it. but it got worse and worse. but at last we caught sight of your light shining through the trees. so we headed for it. we hoped you'd have a stove with a fire in it, and you have---so we're all right, and much obliged." "keep back there a bit," ordered dick, so firmly that the tramps obeyed. "dave, help me to lift this cot over within a few feet of the stove. be as gentle as you can." four tramps looked on in solemn curiosity as they saw darrin and prescott lift a cot on which lay something completely covered by a blanket. then dick turned down the blanket, revealing the bruised, bleeding head of reuben hinman. "what do you men know about this?" prescott demanded, eyeing them compellingly. but the tramps' look was one of such astonished innocence that prescott began to wonder whether he had wrongly suspected these knights of the highway. "why did you do---this?" prescott sternly insisted. "we---we didn't do it!" exclaimed the boss tramp fervently. "we didn't even know that this old party was anywhere out in the storm. we-----" moaning, reuben hinman stirred slightly then opened his eyes dreamily. "mr. hinman, can you talk?" asked dick gently. "ye-es," faintly admitted the peddler. "then how were you hurt, sir?" dick pressed in the same gentle voice. "i---i saw the light. tried---to drive my horse---in. wagon turned over. fell off---and hurt my head," replied the peddler, whispering hoarsely. "you're fully conscious, mr. hinman, and know just what you're saying?" dick pressed. "yes, prescott. i know." "then no one else assaulted you to-night, sir." "no---one." "i feel like saying 'thank heaven' for that!" exclaimed dick in a quiet voice, as he straightened up, his eyes a trifle misty. "i hate to think that the earth holds men vile enough to strike down a weak old man like this!" "and on such a night," added tom reade. "oh, we're pretty bad," said the boss tramp, huskily, "but we didn't do anything like that." "at first," dick went on, "i thought you hoboes had done the deed. that was why i asked my friend to let you come in. i wanted to keep you here until we could find someone who would take care of you." "we didn't do it," replied the boss tramp, "and the old man says we didn't." "no; no man struck me---i fell," chimed in the peddler weakly. "we'll help you take care of the old man," offered the boss tramp. "if you mean what you say," prescott proposed, "then take one of these lanterns and go down by the road to see what you can find out about mr. hinman's horse and wagon. or did you see them as you came up?" "no, for we came through the woods," replied the boss tramp. "i'll take the lantern. come with me, joe." out into the dark plunged the two tramps, to face the heavily falling rain. for once, at any rate, they were doing something useful. at a signal from dick, greg put some water on the stove to heat. prescott found some clean cloth in their wardrobe box and bathed the wound on mr. hinman's temple, then washed his entire face. the wound proved to be broad, rather than deep, and was such as might have been caused by falling on sharp pebbles. then dick bound up the wound. next, dick and greg undressed mr. hinman and rubbed him down, then rolled him in dry blankets and laid him on another cot not far from the stove. "come out, you other hoboes," called the boss tramp's voice. "come and help us right the peddler's wagon and bring that and the horse up here." the other two tramps went reluctantly out into the storm. a bottle full of hot water, wrapped in a towel, was placed at the peddler's feet. in the meantime the tramps got the wagon into a sheltered position, then staked the horse out close to the place where the gridley horse was tethered. this having been accomplished, they came back to the camp, to find a new aroma on the air. "that stuff smells good. what is it?" asked the boss tramp. "ginger tea. we've made some to give to mr. hinman." "will you give us some, too?" asked the tramp. "we're all of us chilled and hoarse." "i will," dick nodded, "if you men will undertake to fill the buckets before you try to dry yourselves. otherwise, we shall run out of water." grunting, the boss tramp and one of his companions listened while dick directed them where to find running water. out again into the storm they lurched, and soon had all the water buckets filled and in the tent. while the tramps dried their clothing, prescott kept his word about making ginger tea. "this seems like the best stuff i've had since i was a baby," remarked the boss tramp, in a somewhat grateful voice. "maybe that's because you've worked for it," suggested reade thoughtfully. "i wonder," grunted the hobo. "i wonder." later on dick and his chums prepared a supper, of which all partook except the peddler, who needed sleep and warmth more. the tramps slept on the floor, later on. tom, dave and harry slept on their cots, while the other three high school boys remained awake. toward two o'clock in the morning dick found reuben hinman's skin becoming decidedly feverish, and began to administer nitre. "i'd mount our horse, and try to ride for a doctor, if i thought i could get one," murmured greg. "you couldn't get one here to-night," volunteered the boss tramp, who had awakened and had risen on one elbow. "neither an automobile nor a buggy could be driven over this wild road to-night. the water is three feet deep in spots---worse in some others." though the deluge outside still continued, all would have been cheery inside had it not been for the alarm dick & co. felt over the increasing fever of the poor old peddler. his breathing became more and more labored. dave awoke and came over to listen and look on. "i'll try to go for a doctor," he whispered. "you might even reach one," dick replied. "i'd be willing to try myself, but we couldn't get a physician through on a night like this." "at least i'll go down and have a look at the road," muttered reade, rising, wrapping himself up as best he could, and taking a lantern. tom presently returned, looking like a drowned rat. "it's no go," he announced gloomily. "the road is a river." "sure it is," muttered the boss tramp, "or---as you lads have been so decent to me---i'd go myself and try to find a doctor." chapter xvii two kinds of hobo toward daylight the rain ceased. dawn came in heavy and misty, but after an hour the sun shone forth, dispelling the low-lying clouds. dick was sound asleep at this time, tom and harry having relieved the other watchers. all of the tramps lay stretched on the hard wooden floor, since none of the high school boys cared to have one of these fellows lying on his cot even when it was not in use. "go down and take a look at the road, hazy," tom desired, after the sun had been out for an hour. "the water's running out of the road, or drying off, pretty fast" hazelton reported on his return. "still, a doctor would have a hard job getting over the road as yet." "did you see anyone trying to get over the road with a vehicle?" reade inquired. "not a soul or a wheel," harry answered. "as far as travel goes the road might as well be a strip of the sahara desert." reuben hinman's breathing was so labored that it disturbed the watchers a good deal. "we're doing all we can for you, and we'll get better care for you, just as soon as we can," tom explained, resting a hand on the fever-flushed face. "i know," wheezed the old man painfully. "good boy!" by eight o'clock all hands were astir. "are we going to get any breakfast to-day?" asked the tramp known as joe. "yes," nodded dick, choking back the temptation to say something caustic. by nine o'clock the meal had been eaten. the stove now made the tent so hot that mr. hinman's cot had to be moved to the farther end and the tent flaps thrown open to admit cooler air. greg had attended to feeding both of the horses, which had gotten through the dismal night without very much discomfort. now dick went down to look at the road. "i'm going to mount our horse, bareback, and keep straight on up the road," he announced, coming back. "i will not have to go very far before i find a physician." "no, you're not going, either," broke in the boss tramp. "i am going." "but, see here, i can't very well let a stranger like you go off with our horse," dick objected smilingly. "you don't have to," retorted the other. "i'll go on foot, and i'll make the trip as fast as i can, too. but maybe you'd better give me a note to the doctor. he might not pay much attention to a sick call from a fellow who looks as tough as i do." "if i let you go, can i depend upon you to keep right on going straight and fast, until you deliver a note to a doctor?" asked prescott, eyeing the boss tramp keenly. "yes!" answered the tramp, returning the glance with one so straightforward that dick felt he could really trust the man. "and if the first doctor won't or can't come, i'll keep on going until i find one who will take the call." "good for you!" cried tom reade heartily. "and if it weren't for fear of startling you, i'd say that the next thing you'll be doing will be to find and accept a job, and work again like a useful man!" "that would be startling," grinned the fellow, half sullenly. dick wrote the note. away went his ill-favored looking messenger. dick turned to administer more nitre to the peddler. "do you expect to move on at all to-day?" dave asked of dick. "it wouldn't be really wise, would it?" dick counter-queried. "our tent and shelter flap are pretty wet to take down and fold away in a wagon. we'd find it wet going, too. hadn't we better stay here until to-morrow, and then break camp with our tent properly dry?" all hands voted in favor of remaining---except the hoboes, who weren't asked. they would remain indefinitely, anyway, if permitted, and if the food held out. but dick soon set them to work. one was despatched for water, the other two set to gathering wet firewood and spreading it in the sun to dry out. nor did the trio of remaining tramps refuse to do the work required of them, though they looked reluctant enough at first. two more hours passed. "i'm afraid our friend, hustling weary, is having a hard time to get a doctor who'll come down the road," dick remarked to darrin. "oh, the doctor will come, if weary has found him," dave replied. "doctors always come. they have to, or lose their reputations." half an hour later a business-like honk! was heard. then, through the trees dick & co. saw an automobile halt down at the side of the road. a tall, stout man, who looked to be about sixty-five years old, but who displayed the strength and speed of a young man, leaped from the car, followed by the tramp messenger. "mr. prescott?" called the big stranger. "yes, sir," bowed dick. "dr. hewitt. let me see your patient." for some minutes the physician bent over the peddler, examining and questioning the old man, who answered with effort. "i must get hinman to a hospital some miles from here," the physician explained, aside, to dick. "the poor old man is going to have pneumonia, and he'd die without hospital care. probably he'll die, anyway. i'll give him a hypodermic injection in the arm, then wait for him to become quiet. after that we'll move him to the tonneau of my car and i'll take him to the hospital. i telephoned hinman's son, over at fenton, telling him where his father and his wagon are. the son ought to come over and take charge of the outfit." it was three quarters of an hour later when dr. hewitt examined his patient, then remarked: "he can be moved now, as well as at any time." "there's someone coming," announced reade, as the sound of a horse's hoofs were heard. tom went out to look at the new arrival. a man of forty, rather flashily dressed, though somewhat mud-spattered, rode up on a horse that looked much the worse for being abroad on the bad roads. "i understand that mr. hinman is here, ill," began the stranger. "he is," tom nodded. "have you any interest in him?" "mr. hinman is my father." "come right in," tom invited, throwing open the flap of the tent. "hold my horse, will you?" something in the younger hinman's way of making the request caused reade's backbone to stiffen. "i see that you have a piece of halter rope," tom replied. "you may tie your horse to any one of the trees. they don't belong to me." the son frowned, but led his mount to a tree, hitching it there. then he turned and entered the tent. "how are you, father?" asked the younger hinman, crossing to the cot and bending over the old man. "better, already, i think," replied reuben hinman feebly. "i should hope so," replied timothy hinman, looking more than a trifle annoyed. "you had no business to be out in that storm." "i couldn't help-----" began the old man slowly, but dr. hewitt broke in almost fiercely: "your father is in no condition to talk, mr. hinman. i telephoned you so that you might come over and take charge of the horse and wagon. there is quite a bit of stock on the wagon, too, i believe." "my father must have considerable money with him," the young man hinted. "he has some," dick replied. "i do not know how much." "i will take charge of his money for him," offered young hinman. "you will do nothing of the sort," broke in dr. hewitt, scowling. "hinman, your father will be some time at the hospital, and he will want to be able to pay his bills there. he will also want to be able to purchase some comforts for himself while convalescing. so your father will take his money with him to the hospital." "he can turn it over to me, if he has a mind to do so," insisted the younger man. "you get out of here!" ordered the doctor, speaking decisively, though in a low tone. at the same time he pointed to the doorway of the tent. just then the doctor looked as though he might rather enjoy the opportunity of throwing young hinman out into the open air. the peddler's son walked outside of the tent with an air of offended dignity. "now, will four of you young men take hold of that cot, gently, and carry it out to my car?" asked dr. hewitt. dick, dave, tom and greg served as the litter bearers. then, under dr. hewitt's instructions, they lifted the old man into the tonneau of the car as though he had been an infant. the boss tramp had already taken his place in the tonneau of the machine. after blankets brought by the physician had been wrapped about the peddler the tramp contrived to rest the old man against his own broad shoulder. "good-bye, father," said the younger hinman, who had looked on with a frown on his face. "i hope you'll be all right soon." reuben hinman tried to smile. he also moved as though trying to stretch out a hand to his son, but the folds of the blankets prevented. dr. hewitt went back to the tent to get his medicine case, which he had intentionally left behind. as he went he signed to dick & co. to accompany him. "you young men haven't done anything for the old man for which i am going to commend you," said the physician bluntly. "you've simply done what any upright, humane, decent people would have done for a stricken old man, and you've done it well. but by contrast you noticed the younger hinman's conduct. he is not worried that his father is ill, but hopes that the old man will soon be back at his work. of course, he hopes that his father will be at work, soon; for when the old man stops working the younger man will very likely have to go to work himself." "you don't mean, doctor, that that big, healthy-looking fellow is supported by his father?" gasped dick prescott. "that's just what i mean," nodded the man of medicine. "why, i didn't suppose that old mr. hinman earned much." "in the tin-peddler's business it's nearly all profit except the wear and tear on horse and wagon," smiled the physician. "one who isn't fitted for that line of work would starve to death at it, but reuben hinman has always been a shrewd, keen dealer in his own line of work. strange as it may seem, reuben is believed to make more than three hundred dollars a month. he gives it all to that son and two daughters. he wanted to bring his children up to be ladies and gentlemen---and they are! they are all three of them too shiftless to do any work. they take the old man's money, but they won't live with him. they are too busy in 'society' to bother with the old man. on what he is able to turn over to his children every month they keep a rather pretentious home in fenton, though they live a full mile away from their father. they never go near him, except for more money. if they meet him on his wagon, or when he is walking in his old clothes, they refuse to recognize him. yet, though reuben hinman isn't a fool in anything else, he is very proud of the fact that his son is a 'gentleman,' and that his daughters are 'ladies.' now, in a nutshell, you know the tragedy of the old man's life. young tim hinman would, if he could, take the old man's money away from him at once and let him go to the hospital as a charity patient." "humph!" muttered dick, and then was silent. timothy hinman, when dr. hewitt and the boys stepped outside the tent, was inspecting the dingy old red wagon with a look of contempt on his face. "what am i going to do with this crazy old rattle-trap?" inquired young hinman plaintively. "would one of you boys accept a dollar to drive this over to fenton, and put the horse up in my father's barn? the trip can be made in two days of good driving." dick prescott shook his head in order that he might avoid speaking. "i came by train, within five miles of here, then hired a horse and rode over here," the younger hinman went on. "so i've got to take the horse back to where i got it, and then return by train. so i'll pay a dollar and a half to the boy who will drive this rig back to fenton." this time there was no response to the magnificent offer. "see here," muttered young hinman half savagely, "it's more than the job is worth, but i'll pay two dollars to have this rig driven home. will you take the job?" he looked directly at dick prescott, who replied bluntly: "thank you; i won't." "but what on earth am i going to do with the horse and wagon, then?" demanded timothy hinman, as though he found prescott's refusal preposterous. "i would suggest," offered dick coolly, "that you drive your father's rig home yourself." "i drive it?" gasped the son. "certainly." "but it's no job for a gentleman!" protested the younger mr. hinman, looking very much aghast. "then i don't know whether or not the owner of these woods would consent to your leaving your father's property here," replied prescott, as he turned on his heel. dr. hewitt had watched the scene with a good deal of amusement. now the physician turned to see whether his patient were as comfortable as possible. "my man," said the doctor, to the boss tramp, "you hold my patient as comfortably and skillfully as though you had once been a nurse. were you ever one?" "no, sir," replied the tramp. "it just comes natural." "i've been looking for a man to work for me," continued dr. hewitt, regarding the tramp with calculating eyes. "i believe that you've got in you the making of a real man if you'd only stop being a tramp. how would you like to try it out?" "i dunno," replied the boss tramp, looking a bit staggered. "if you go to work for me, i don't want you to take it up as a casual experiment," went on the man of medicine. "i haven't any time for experiments. but, if you'll declare positively that you're going to make a useful man of yourself, and that you'll live up to what i expect of you, i'll take you on. i won't have an idler about my place, and i won't tolerate any use of alcohol. if you shirk or drink---even once out you go. but i'll start you at ten dollars a month and board, and raise you---if i keep you---two dollars a month until you're getting thirty dollars a month and board as a steady thing. are you man enough to take me up, and to make it worth my while to take you on?" "yes," replied the boss tramp huskily, after a struggle with himself. "all right, then, we'll see how much a man you are. by the way, what's your name?" "jim joggers," replied the tramp. dr. hewitt eyed the fellow keenly for a few seconds, before he replied, with a slight smile: "all right; we'll let it go at joggers until you've put yourself far enough forward so that you'll be willing to use your own name." honk! honk! the car was under way. when dick and his three friends turned back to the tent they found all three of the remaining tramps in there, smoking vile pipes and playing with a greasy, battered pack of cards. "the weather's fine again," announced dick, "and you'll find us the most hospitable fellows you ever met. my friends, we take pleasure in offering you the whole outside world in which to play!" "talk united states!" growled one of the tramps, without looking up from the game. "tom," laughed prescott, turning to reade, "strange dialects are your specialty. kindly translate, into 'united states,' what i have just said to these men." "i will," agreed tom. "attention, hoboes! look right at me! that's right. now---git!" "you might let us stay on a bit longer," grumbled one of the tramps. "we ain't bothering you folks any." "only eating us out of house and home," snapped dave. "and delaying the time when we must wash up the tent after you," added danny grin. but the tramps played on, smoked on. "did you fellows ever hear of that famous man, mr. a. quick expediter?" tom asked the tramps. "no," growled one of them. "expediter was a truly great man," tom continued. "he had a motto. it was a short one. one word, and that word was---'git'!" "we are famed for our courtesy," remarked darry. "we'd hate to lose even a shred of our reputation in that line. but in these present years of our young lives we are football players by training, and high school boys merely for pleasure. we know some of the dandiest tackles you ever saw. shall we show you a few of them? if you object to observing our tackles---and sharing in the effects---then signify your wishes by placing yourselves at a safe distance from such enthusiastic football wranglers as we are." greg, danny grin and harry were already crouching as though for a spring. dave took his place in an imaginary football line-up, leaning slightly forward. tom reade sighed, then advanced to the line. all were waiting for the battle signal from dick prescott. by this time the most talkative of the three tramps noted the signs of a gathering squall. "come on, mates," he urged, with a sulky growl, "let's get out of here. these young fellows want their place all to themselves. they're just like all of the capitalistic class that are ruining the country to-day! things in this country are coming to a pass where there's nothing for the fellow who-----" "who won't work hard enough to get the place in the world that he wants," tom reade finished for the tramp, as he ushered the three of them through the doorway. chapter xviii dick prescott, knight errant that day of enforced tie-up was followed by three days of hard hiking. the gridley high school boys showed the fine effects of their two vigorous, strenuous outings. each had taken on weight slightly, though there was no superfluous flesh on any of the six. they were bronzed, comparatively lean-looking, trim and hard. their muscles were at the finest degree of excellence. "we set out to get ourselves as hard as nails," remarked dave, as the boys bathed in a secluded bit of woodland through which a creek flowed. it was, the morning of their fourth day of renewed hiking. after the swim and breakfast that was to follow, there were twenty miles of rural roads to be covered before the evening camp was pitched. "i guess we've won all we set out to get, haven't we?" inquired reade, squaring his broad shoulders with an air of pride. "i feel equal to anything that a fellow of my size and years could do." "i think, without boasting, we may consider ourselves the six most valuable candidates for gridley high school football this year," prescott declared. "we ought to be the best men for the team; we've worked hard to get ourselves in the pink of physical condition." "i wouldn't care to be any stronger than i am," laughed danny grin. "if i were any stronger folks would be saying that i ought to go to work." "you will have to go to work within another year," dick laughed, "whatever that work may be. but you must work with your brain, danny boy, if you're to get any real place in life. your muscles are intended only as a sign that your body is going to be equal to all the demands that your brain may make on that body." "if my mental ability were equal to my physical strength i wouldn't have to work at all," grinned dalzell. splash! his dive carried him under the surface of the water. presently he came up, blowing, then swimming with strong strokes. "danny boy seems to have the same idea so many people have," laughed prescott. "they think that a man who does all his real work with his brain isn't working at all, just because he doesn't get into a perspiration and wilt his collar." splash! splash! reade and darrin were in the water racing upstream. "i don't know when i've ever found so much happiness in a summer," asserted greg, as he poised himself for a dive into the water. "i wonder if timmy hinman ever had the nerve to stick to his father's wagon long enough to get it back to fenton," said dave, as he swam beside reade. "if he ever took that wagon home, i'll wager that he drove the last few miles late at night, so that his 'society' friends wouldn't have the shock of seeing him drive the peddling outfit that sustains him," reade replied. "i'll never forget the younger hinman's disgusted look when he tried to drive the outfit from our camp, the other morning, with his saddle mount tied behind and balking on the halter," grinned darry. "i wonder why such fellows as timothy hinman were ever created," tom went on. "every time i think about the gentlemanly timmy i feel as though i wanted to kick something." only the day before, stopping at a postoffice on the route, as had been arranged with dr. hewitt, dick & co. had received word that the peddler was seriously ill with pneumonia, with all the chances against his recovery. "if the peddler should die," suggested dave soberly, "do you believe that timmy hinman will be able to face the thought of going to work for a living?" "it would be an awful fate," tom declared grimly. "timmy might try to work, but i don't know whether he would be able to live through the shock and shame of having to earn the money for paying his own bills in life." "there's that irrepressible dick again!" called greg five minutes later. "what's he up to now?" asked tom, from further up the creek. "he has had his rub-down, got his clothing on and is now at work frying bacon and eggs." "then don't disturb him," begged reade, "or he might fry short of the quantity of food that is really going to be required." five minutes more, however, saw the last of the boys out of water and rapidly getting themselves in shape to perform their own required duties. there could be no idlers in the party when dick & co. were away from home on a hike. yet, once breakfast had been disposed of, and the dishes washed, there seemed something in the august air that made them all disinclined to break camp and move on. "i wish we could stay here all day, and move on to-morrow," murmured hazy, thus voicing the thought of some of the others. "and then blame the tramps for loafing!" exclaimed dick. "do we look as though we had loafed this summer?" challenged dalzell. "no; but one or two of you would have done a good deal of it if you hadn't been afraid of the contempt of the others," smiled prescott. "honestly, now," demanded hazy, "wouldn't you enjoy just staying here and lounging today, dick prescott?" "i would," dick assented. "there, now!" "but that isn't what we left home to do, so we won't do it." "eh?" queried hazy. "attention, lazybones squad!" called prescott, springing up. "hazy, harness the horse and hitch him to the wagon. tom, dave and greg, take down the tent. i'll pack the bedding. dan, load the kitchen stuff on the wagon." this occupied a few minutes. "now, all hands turn to and load on the floor planks, bedding and the tent," called dick. this, too, was quickly accomplished, though all six were now perspiring. "greg, i believe it's your turn to drive first to-day," prescott announced. "up with you! forward---march!" dick led the way out of camp, at a brisk four-mile-an-hour stride. the long hike was started, at last. after that there was no grumbling, even during the hourly halt of ten minutes. the noon halt found them with eleven and a half miles covered out of the twenty. five o'clock brought dick & co. to the outskirts of fenton, a town of some twenty-five hundred inhabitants. "whoa!" called tom, reining up half a mile from the town. "there are woods here, dick. if we go any closer to fenton, we'll either have to keep on traveling to the other side of the town, or ask the authorities for permission to camp on the common. don't you believe we had better stop here?" "these are the woods that dave and i had just picked out," prescott replied. "we were going to keep on traveling until we found out who owns the woods. this isn't quite in the wilderness, tom, and we must begin again to seek permission to make our camp from owners of property." "if these are the woods," grunted tom, "there can be no use in going farther. you and dave trot on ahead, and bring us back word." "all right," sang out the young leader, "but don't drive onto the ground, or unpack, until we are back with word about the owner's permission." three minutes of walking brought them to a farmhouse that looked like the abode of prosperous people. "well, what is it?" demanded a stout man, with a good-humored face, as he stepped out from a barn. "we wish to know, sir," dick explained, "if you can tell us who owns the woods about a quarter of a mile back, at the right hand side of the road?" "i think i can," nodded the man. "will you describe the woods a little more particularly?" as prescott complied the farmer broke in: "those are my woods, all right. what do you want of them?" dick explained the desire of himself and his friends to camp there for the night. "who are you boys?" asked the farmer, keenly eyeing dick and dave. "gridley high school boys, out on a vacation jaunt." "you won't do any damage to my woods, will you?" "certainly not, sir," dick promised. "then go right ahead and pitch your camp, young man. enjoy yourselves." "we shall have to gather and use quite a bit of firewood, sir," prescott continued. "well, there's considerable dead wood lying about there." "may we pay you a proper price for the use of the firewood, sir?" prescott went on. "if you try to," laughed the farmer, "i'll chase you out of the woods. make yourselves at home, boys. have as good a time as you can." "thank you, sir." "and---have you had any fresh milk lately?" "not a lot of it, sir." "would you like some?" "why, if we may pay-----" "you may pay me," promptly agreed the farmer, "by bringing the pail back when you pass this way in the morning." with that remark he went into another building, soon coming out with an eight-quart pail filled with milk. "this sort of stuff isn't much good, except when you haven't had any for a long time," laughed the farmer. "enjoy yourselves. say, you don't play football with the gridley high school eleven, do you?" "all of us do," dick admitted. "thought so," chuckled the farmer. "that's why i was interested in you. i saw the thanksgiving game at gridley last year. great game nervy lot of boys, with all their sand about them. there was one fellow in particular, i remember, who broke doctor's orders and jumped into the game at the last minute. he saved the game for gridley, i heard. i'd like to shake hands with him." "then here's your chance, sir," laughed dave, shoving dick forward. "mr. dick prescott, gridley high school." "my name's dobbins," smiled the farmer, extending his hand. "glad to meet you, prescott. i thought it was you all the time. mebbe the young man with you is darrin." "yes," laughed dick, and there was more handshaking. "i hope i'll see the rest of your friends when you pass in the morning," said the farmer cordially. "hiram---supper!" called a shrill voice from the doorway. "coming, mother! boys, it does one good to meet the right sort of fellows once in a while. enjoy the woods in your own way, won't you?" "that man is right. as he says, it does one good to meet the right sort of fellow once in a while---and he's the right sort," declared darry fervently, as the chums trudged back to their outfit. camp was pitched, and supper was soon under way. when it was all over, and everything cleaned up, dick looked about him at his friends. "i wonder if any of you fellows feel the way i do to-night?" he asked. "we still have our white clothes, and fenton is something of a town. we've been in the woods for so long that i feel just like dressing up in white and taking a stroll into town." tom, dan and dave voted in the affirmative. greg and hazy averred that they had walked enough for one day. so the four boys donned white, while the other two remained behind in flannel and khaki. dick and the three companions of his stroll when almost in fenton, were passing through a street of pretty little cottages when a tiny figure, clad in white ran out of the darkness, bumping into dick's knees. "hello, little one!" cried prescott, cheerily, picking up a wee little girl of four and holding her at arm's length. "hello, you're crying. what's the matter? lost mother?" "no; lost papa," wailed the little one. "perhaps we can find him for you," offered tom, readily. "mollie! mollie, where are you?" came a woman's voice out of the darkness. "is this your little girl, madam?" called prescott. "we'll bring her to you." in another moment the woman, young and pretty, also dressed in white, had reached the child and was holding her by the hand. "oh, you little runaway!" chided dave, smilingly, as he bent over, wagging a finger at the child. "no; it's papa that runned away," gasped the little one, in a frightened voice. "he ran away to a saloon." "oh, said dave, straightening up and feeling embarrassed as he caught the humiliated look in the young woman's face. "pa---runned away and made mama cry," the little one babbled on, half sobbing. "i must go after him and bring him home." "be quiet, mollie," commanded her mother. "papa comes, if he knows you want him," insisted the child. "i tell him you want him---that you cry because he went to saloon." for an instant the mother caught her breath. then she began to cry bitterly. dick and his friends wished themselves almost anywhere else. "it's too bad when the children get old enough to realize it," said the woman, brokenly. then, of a sudden, she eyed dick and his chums bravely. "boys," she said, "i hope the time will never come when you'll feel that it's manly to go out with the crowd and spend the evening in drinking." "the way we feel about it now," spoke dick, sympathetically, "we'd rather be dead than facing any degradation of the sort." they were only boys, and they were strangers to the woman. moreover, little mollie was looking pleadingly towards dick, as if loath to let him go. in her misery the young wife poured out her story to her sympathetic listeners. her husband had been a fine young fellow---was still young. his drinking had begun only three months before. "we have our own home, more than half paid for," added the woman, pointing to a pretty little cottage. "tom has always been a good workman, never out of a job. but lately he has been spending his wages for drink. last month we didn't make our payment on the house. today he got his month's pay, and promised not to drink any more. he was going to take us into town to-night for a good time, and we were happy, weren't we, baby? then two of his saloon cronies passed the house. tom went with them, but said he would come right back for us. he hasn't come yet, and he won't come now until midnight. the month's pay will be gone, and that means that the home will be gone, after a little. boys, i shall never see you again, and it has seemed a help to me to talk to you. remember, don't ever-----" "madam," asked dick, suddenly, in a husky tone, "do you mind telling us your husband's name, and the name of the place where he has gone?" "his name is tom drake, and he has gone up to miller's place," answered mrs. drake. "but why do you ask? what-----" "mrs. drake," dick continued, earnestly, "we don't want to be meddlers, and we'll keep out of this, if you request it. but the child has given me an inspiration that i could help you. if you authorize me, i'll go to miller's and see if i can't help your husband to know that his happiness is right here, not in a saloon." "i---i fear that will be a big undertaking," quivered mrs. drake. a big undertaking, indeed, it was bound to be! chapter xix "i'll fight him for this man!" "it's wonderfully kind of you!" breathed the woman, gratefully. "but it really won't do any good. when a man has begun to drink nothing can reclaim him from it. my only hope is to be able to have a talk with tom when his money is gone." "of course if you dislike to have us try, mrs. drake-----" dick began. "i don't dislike to have you try!" cried the woman, quickly. "all i am thinking about is the hopelessness of your undertaking. you simply can't get tom out of miller's to-night until the owner of that awful place turns him out at closing time. i know! this has happened before." dick stood in an uncertain attitude, his cap in hand. the appealing face of the child, looking eagerly up at him, made him wish with all his heart to try to do a good act here, yet he couldn't think of going on such an errand without the young wife's permission. "let him go, mama," urged the child. "he'll bring papa back." dick looked questioningly at the woman. "all right, then, go," she acquiesced. "oh, i hope you have good luck, and that you don't make tom ugly, either. i'll say, for him, that he has never been ugly yet." "mrs. drake, we all four accept your commission---or permission, whichever it is," replied dick, bowing. "we'll try to use tact and judgment, and we'll try to bring mr. drake back with us." dick asked a few questions as to where miller's place might be found. then he set off, he and his chums walking abreast. "bring him back!" mollie said plaintively. "then mama won't cry, and i won't, either." "i feel like a fool!" muttered tom reade, when they were out of earshot of the waiting mother and child. "if you don't like the undertaking, you might keep in the background," dick suggested. "it's likely i'd back out of anything that's moving, isn't it?" reade demanded, offended. "i don't mind any disagreeable business that we may run into. but i feel like a fool when i think of the message we'll have to take back to that poor woman and baby." "tom drake will deliver the message to them," replied dick, firmly. "if he's sober even now," murmured danny grin, uneasily. "i'm strong for the task!" declared dave darrin, with enthusiasm. "so would i be," tom defended himself, "if i thought that even a night of fighting would result in anything like success. but-----" "better stop right here, then," prescott, suggested, smiling earnestly. but neither of dick's companions stopped. they were walking briskly, now. as they had been told, miller's was the first place on the right hand side, where the business street of fenton began. it had been a tavern in the old days, and was still a big and roomy structure. yet there was no mistaking the room in which the object of their quest was to be found. the door of the saloon opened repeatedly while the boys stood regarding the place. dick stepped over to a man who had just come out. "is tom drake in there?" dick asked. "yes." "is he sober?" dick pressed. "yes; so far," answered the man. "will you do me a great favor? just step inside and tell him that there is a man outside who wants to see him. just tell him that, and nothing more." "are you from drake's wife?" asked the man, looking dick over shrewdly. "yes," dick admitted, candidly. "i'll do it," nodded the man. "drake has been making a fool of himself. he'll go to pieces and find himself without a job before the year is out. you wait here. i'll find a way to coax him out for you." soon the door opened again, and there came out prescott's messenger followed by a clean-cut, well-built young man of not more than twenty-eight years of age. "there's the young man who says he wants to see you," the citizen explained, pointing to dick. tom drake walked steadily enough. he certainly was not yet much under the influence of liquor. "you wanted to see me?" he asked, looking somewhat puzzled as he eyed young prescott. "yes," dick admitted. "what about?" "will you take a short walk with me," dick went on, "and i'll explain my business to you." "i don't believe i can take a walk with you," drake answered. "i'm with some friends in there." he nodded over his shoulder at the door through which he had just come. "but my business is of a great deal of importance," dick went on. "can't you see me to-morrow?" asked drake, eager to get back to his companions. "to-morrow will be altogether too late," dick replied. "then state your business now." "i'd much rather explain it you as you walk with me," prescott urged, earnestly. "are---are you from the building loan people?" asked tom drake, suddenly. "no, i am not from them," prescott replied, then added, truthfully enough: "but it's partly about that building loan matter that i wish to talk with you." "who sent you here?" asked drake, half-suspiciously. "a child," dick replied. "at least, it was a child's face that gave me the resolution to come here and have a few words with you." "a child?" repeated drake. "what child?" "yours." "a child?" echoed the young man. "mine? do you mean mollie?" "yes," dick went on, rapidly. "the child wanted to come here herself to get you, and i came in her stead. it was better that i should come than that little tot. don't you think so?" "i'm afraid i don't understand you," returned tom drake, beginning to look offended. "mr. drake, do you know that your wife and child are all dressed up---in their prettiest white gowns, waiting for you to come back to bring them into town to-night for the promised treat? don't you understand the pain that you're giving them by showing that you prefer a lot of red-nosed loafers in miller's to your own wife and child? the unhappiness that you're causing them to-night isn't a circumstance to all the misery that you're piling up for them in the years to come. switch off! switch off, while you're yet man enough to be able to do it! won't you do it---please? you must know just how happy that little kid will be when she sees you come swinging down the street to bring her and her mother into town. you know how that little tot's eyes will shine. can't you hear her saying, `here's papa! he's come.' isn't that baby worth a twenty-mile walk for any man to see when he knows she's his own kiddie and waiting for him? come along, now; they're both waiting for you; they will be the happiest pair you've seen in a long time." "i don't know but i will toddle along home," said drake, rather shame-facedly. "i---i didn't realize how time was slipping by. yes; i guess i'll go home. much obliged to you for letting me know the time." but at that moment the door opened, and a voice called out: "drake! oh, drake. come here; we want you." "can't, now," the young man called back. "i'm due at home." "home?" came in two or three jeering voices. then several men came out of the saloon, laughing boisterously. "come back, drake! we can't let you slip off like that. you're too good a fellow to play the sneak with us. come on back!" "i---i tell you, i'm due at home," insisted drake, though he spoke more weakly. "hey! here's drake---says he's going to slip home on us!" called one of the tormentors. more men came out of the place, some of them staggering. with the new arrivals came one whom dick and his friends rightly guessed to be miller---a thickset man, with swaggering manner, insolent expression and rough voice. "what's this about your going home, drake?" demanded one of the new arrivals. "i---i really ought to go home," drake tried to explain. "cut that out," ordered miller roughly. "you're booked to spend the evening with us, and the evening has hardly begun." "i promised this young fellow i'd go home," said drake slowly, "so i guess i will." "and what has this young feller got to say or do about it?" demanded miller angrily, as he pushed his way to drake's side, then glared at dick prescott. "and what have you got to say about his not going home?" dick asked hotly. "isn't this a free country, where a man may go home when he chooses?" "it's a free country, and a man has a right to spend his evening in my place when he's invited," miller asserted roughly. "yes; your invitation will hold until his month's pay is gone from his pocket," dick flashed back. "that's all you want. drake has sense enough to see that, and he's leaving you." "he isn't going home for three hours yet, or anywhere else!" snorted miller, whose breath proclaimed the fact that he had been using some of his own goods. dick laughed contemptuously as he turned to tom drake with: "you see! that fellow thinks he can give you your orders. that fellow begins to believe that he owns you already." "who are you calling 'that feller'?" demanded miller, dropping a heavy hand on dick's shoulder. "i referred to you," replied prescott, pushing the man's hand from his shoulder. "if you get too funny with me i'll hit you a crack that will carry your head off with it!" snarled the saloon keeper. "pshaw!" prescott answered cuttingly. "you aren't big enough, or man enough, either!" "what's that?" miller aimed a vicious, open-hand blow at young prescott's face. it didn't land, but, instead, dick's right hand went up smack! against the fellow's cheek. "hang your impudence!" roared miller, angrily. "i'll pay you for that! i'll teach you!" he made a rush at dick, but two men who had been attracted by the commotion jumped in between them. "hold on, miller!" objected one of these passers-by. "you can't pummel a boy!" "i'll make him howl for hitting me!" roared miller, doubling his big, powerful fists. "get out of my way, or i'll run over you!" "get out of his way, please!" cried dick suddenly. "let miller at me, if he wants. i'm willing to fight him. i'll fight him for tom drake's right to be a man!" chapter xx in the milksop class? "good! and i'll hold the stakes!" cried tom reade jovially, as he took light hold of drake's arm. "let miller at the boy!" howled one of the bystanders. "he'll show the boy something. the kid is getting big enough to learn, and he ought to be taught." "i'll fight miller, if he has the sand!" proclaimed dick, who now had his own reasons for wanting to sting the liquor seller into action. "i'll fight the bully, but not here in a saloon yard. there is a vacant lot the other side of the fence. we'll go in there and see how much of a fighter he is." more citizens had gathered by this time, and there was every sign of an intention to stop further trouble. but dave darrin sprang into the crowd, saying, almost in an undertone: "the respectable men here don't want to try to stop this affair. a lot of useful manhood depends upon the issue. don't worry about my friend, if he does look rather young. he can take care of himself, all right, and he is calling for a fight that ought to be fought. you respectable men in the crowd keep still, and just come along and see fair play---that's all." dave's earnest eloquence won over many of the men representing the better element of the crowd. "jove! he's a plucky boy!" cried one man. "but miller will pound him to a pulp!" "come along, everyone, and see whether rum or water is the best drink for fighting men!" insisted tom reade. there was a general movement toward the vacant lot. miller was muttering angrily, while some of his red-nosed victims were jeering. in the field dick took off his hat and coat, then his tie, and passed them to dan dalzell. "dave," whispered prescott, "you stand by as my second, but don't make any too stiff claims of foul. this will have to be rough work, from the start." miller, already in his shirt sleeves, did not feel that he had any need of special preparation. prescott looked altogether too easy. not that miller lacked experience in such matters. in other years he had been a prize-fighter of minor rank, and had been considered, in his class, a fairly hard man to beat. "now, stand up, boy," ordered the saloon keeper, advancing. "and take back the crack you passed to me." "let's have it," taunted dick, throwing himself on the defensive. miller aimed a vicious blow but did not land. instead, prescott hit him on the short ribs. "if you're going to fight, stand up and take your medicine!" roared miller, in a rage. "handle your own foot-work to suit yourself!" dick retorted. "i'll do the same. but you can't fight, anyway!" that taunt threw the liquor seller into a still greater rage. with a yell he sprang at prescott. but again dick failed to be there. the high school boy was not having an easy time, however. miller's strength was formidable, and dick knew that he could not stop many straight blows from his opponent without disaster. two merely glancing blows scraped the lad, who had landed four blows on miller. the big fellow, however, seemed able to endure a lot of punishment. "i didn't come out here to run a race!" miller insisted, as he tried hard to corner the boy. "then stand still, and i won't hit you so hard!" mocked prescott, as he struck the man again on the short ribs. then, of a sudden, prescott hit the earth. he had miscalculated, and miller's left fist had landed on his nose. with a hoarse laugh miller started to follow up the advantage with a kick. "here! come back! none of that!" shouted a citizen, throwing his arms around miller's neck. "let the boy get to his feet. fight fair or---we'll lynch you when it's over!" but dick was up, the blood flowing freely from his nose. yet he was hardly less cool as miller was released and the two again faced each other. "finish him up, miller, and we'll get back to pleasure!" laughed one of the drunkards in maudlin glee. "the boy has no show. this is an outrage!" protested an indignant citizen. "it ought to be stopped." as the two sparred dick suddenly saw his chance to get in under the powerful guard of his antagonist and landed a hard blow on his solar plexus. "umph!" grunted miller, as he partly doubled up under the force of the blow. that instant was enough for prescott to drive in a blow that nearly closed one of the big fellow's eyes. "stop this fight!" yelled the same citizen. "don't you do it!" warned another. "the boy is taking care of himself all right. let him wind the bruiser up." now miller, smarting and fearing accidental defeat, forgot caution and tried to rush in for a clinch. but this was the kind of attack that prescott was skilled in dodging. dick gave ground before the furious assault, but he did so purposely. back he went, step by step. "miller's got him!" cheered the liquor seller's friends. at last dick found what he wanted, the opportunity to drive in again on the big fellow's wind. miller gave vent to another grunt, followed by a howl, as he felt a stinging fist land against his other eye. now, dick had his man blinded, ready for the finish. a high school fist landed on the side of the big fellow's throat, sending him to his knees. dick took but half a step backward as he waited for the big fellow to get to his feet. the instant that miller rose dick darted in, landing his right fist with all his strength on the tip of the man's chin. this time the work was complete. miller went down. dick, smiling, though breathing quickly, stood over his fallen opponent, counting slowly to ten. then, in a moment, those who had favored the boy's side in the fight realized just what had happened. loud cheers arose from the crowd. tom drake was one of the first to dart in and seize young prescott's right hand briefly before another man wanted to shake it. dick was fairly made to run a gauntlet of handshaking. most of miller's "friends" retreated in sulky bad humor. three of the liquor seller's followers, however, picked the big man up, staggering under his weight, and bore him behind the door that had closed on more than one man's career. "what do you think of that, mr. drake?" demanded tom reade jubilantly. "do you put dick prescott in the milk-sop class?" chapter xxi the revenge talk at miller's "let's get out of this place," whispered dick in dave's ear as darry helped him to staunch the flow of blood from his nose. "there, the bleeding has stopped," muttered dave. "now, put on your coat and button it up. then the blood stains on your shirt won't show." tom drake had very little to say, but he kept close to prescott. "shall we walk down the road a bit, mr. drake?" asked dick, as soon as he had his coat on. "i'm in a hurry to get home," nodded the young workman. "i shall know where i belong, after this. no more of miller's for me! for that matter," the young man added, with a hearty laugh, "i don't believe miller would ever let me in his place again. of course, in his own mind, he will blame me for what happened to-night." "i hope he didn't get much of your money before it happened," murmured prescott, as be and drake, followed by dave, tom and dan, got clear of the crowd and down into a quieter part of the road. "he got less than a dollar of my wages," replied drake. "i'm sorry he has that much, but he'll never get any more. say, prescott, but you are a fighter! i can imagine how 'sore' miller will be, to-morrow, over having been whipped by such a stripling as you are." "i've one great advantage over miller," dick rejoined. "i've never tasted alcohol, and miller has saturated himself with it for years." "i used to have an idea that liquor was strengthening," murmured tom drake. "i know quite a good many men who take it to keep up their strength." "they're fools, then," dick retorted tersely. "you could see, in miller to-night, what alcohol does toward making one strong. that man is still powerful, but i'm satisfied that he was once a great deal stronger. miller's muscles have grown flabby since he began to drink. his speed is less than it must have been formerly. even his nerve---his grit---has been impaired by the stuff he has been drinking. did you notice how early in the fight his wind left him? the man has very little of his former strength, and the blame belongs to the liquor he has used." "here's my gate," said tom drake, at last, as they halted before the little cottage. "come in. i've got to tell my wife about you. i wonder where my two girls are?" dick and his friends tried to get out of going into the yard, but their new friend would not have it that way, so silently they followed drake up the path. then, through a front window, tom drake saw his girls. his wife sat at a table, her head resting on her arms. on the floor sat the toddler, mollie, still in her white dress. she had two broken dolls, pretending to play with them, but the woebegone look in her little face showed that her thoughts were elsewhere. tom drake choked as he looked in at the window. then, throwing up his head resolutely, he lifted the latch, entering the room with firm tread. "i'm a bit late, girls, but come on up in the village!" he invited. "here, hattie, you take charge of this little roll," he added, thrusting his money into his wife's hand. not more than three minutes later the three drakes issued from the house, mollie enjoying a "ride" on her father's shoulder. "why, where are the boys?" he demanded. "i left them here." "gone, like all good angels, when their work is done," smiled his wife. "it's all right, anyway, girls," tom drake answered cheerily. "we're pretty sure to find 'em up in the village, where we're going." in the first place that the drakes entered they came upon dick and his three friends. the gridley boys, after dodging a crowd that wanted to lionize young prescott, had taken refuge, unseen, in the back of an otherwise deserted ice cream saloon. "there they are!" cried mollie, running the length of the shop, as fast as her chubby little legs could take her. she ran straight to dick who bent over to give her a gentle hug. "i don't know what to say to you young men," cried mrs. drake, halting beside the boys, her voice breaking a little, her eyes moist. "then, if you'll permit me to offer a suggestion," dick smiled back, as he rose, "it seems to me that conversation might spoil several good things. won't you all sit down and be our guests in a little ice cream feast that we have started?" it was almost an hour before the little party broke up. a few interested citizens, however, found the hiding place of the gridley high school boys and insisted on coming in to shake hands with the boys. "take your family and slip out through the back door," dick whispered to tom drake. "i don't know that i'll ever see you again," murmured drake huskily, "so i want to say-----" "don't say anything," dick smiled back. "you're all right, from now on. and we've all learned something to-night. we'll let it rest there. good-bye, and the best of good luck for you and yours." so the drakes escaped from what would have been an embarrassing scene. nor were dick and his friends long in getting away from the too-enthusiastic citizens. "it's late enough for us to go back to camp and turn in, isn't it?" suggested tom reade. "i was thinking of that myself," dick admitted. "you must be tired, anyway," dave hinted. "you whipped miller all right, but he was a tiring brute, and i'll wager that you're both sore and exhausted." "i'll plead guilty to a little bit of both," dick prescott assented, laughing at the recollection of miller at the time when that brute's second eye was closed. yet it was more than half an hour after their return to camp when slumber finally began to assert its claim upon the gridley boys. for greg and harry, as soon as they had heard a few words as to the evening's adventure, insisted upon hearing all of it before they would let dick turn in. "i'll bet they're sore in miller's place tonight," chuckled greg, just before be extinguished the second lantern. certainly anger did reign in miller's place for the rest of that evening. miller had been brought to consciousness, after considerable effort. he was even able to be up and about his place, but his swollen features looked like a caricature of a face. "the schoolboy that was able to do that to you, miller, must have been eight feet high and as wide as a gate," remarked one of the red-nosed patrons of the place. "shut up!" was miller's gracious response. there were other drinking places in fenton, and to these the news of the big fellow's drubbing quickly spread. indeed, the fight seemed to be the one topic of the talk of fenton that evening. as it happened, it wasn't very long before word was brought to miller that dick and his friends were camping down on andy hartshorn's place. "it's queer that hartshorn will let such young toughs stop on his land!" growled miller. "they ought to be chased out of town---that's what!" growled a patron of the place. more of this talk was heard, until finally someone demanded thickly: "well, why can't we chase 'em out of town?" at first, the idea met with instant favor among the dozen or more worthless men gathered in miller's saloon. the plan grew in favor until one man, slighter than the rest, observed: "say! stop and think of one thing. we know what one of the boys did to miller, and there are six of those boys down at the camp!" that rather cast a damper over the enthusiasm until one blear-eyed man of fifty observed, knowingly: "well, we don't need to go alone. there are other men in fenton who think the way we do. we can go down to the woods in force, and pretend that what we want to do comes as a rebuke administered by the citizens of fenton." "hurrah!" cheered one man who seemed in danger of falling asleep. "miller, let us use your telephone," urged the former speaker. "no, you can't," retorted the liquor seller quickly. "it's all right for you men to do whatever you think is right, but you've got to remember that i've got to be kept out of whatever happens." well enough did the wretch know that half-hearted opposition from him would only fan the flame hotter among the men who considered themselves his friends. so the messengers were sent to the other drinking places in town. word was passed for a night raid "by representative citizens," as these topers called themselves. men of the same turn of mind soon came flocking in from other drinking resorts. "don't talk here about what you're going to do for the good of the town," miller ordered. "remember, i've got to be kept out of this. my position is a delicate one, you understand." soon after midnight the disreputable army of vengeance seekers was straggling down the road. talking had ceased. these drink-driven wretches were hunting for the camp of dick & co. and they were going to attack it in force. chapter xxii under the sting of the lash when the crowd reached the camp of the high school boys all was silent there. from within the tent came the sounds of the heavy breathing of the sleepers. "everything is ready, and there isn't even a dog on the place!" was the exultant word passed back. "bunch up! get in close and surround the tent," ordered another voice. "we want some of you men behind the tent, so that none of the youngsters can slip away from us. come along, now. don't talk! don't make so much noise. easy, now!" thus the figures continued to gather, like so many evil spirits of the night. here and there one of the rabble fell over something in the dark, or tripped over a root or stone as he moved about among the shadows. in the intervals of absolute silence the steady breathing of the six gridley high school boys could still be heard, until one man in the rabble, less sober than the others, fell over a packing-case, barking his shins and giving vent to a yell of pain. "what was that?" asked greg holmes, waking and rising on one elbow. outside all was quiet again. "hey, dave, get up!" holmes called, shaking the arm of darry, who lay asleep on the adjoining cot. "i heard something going on outside. we'll both get up, light a lantern, and-----" "yes! get up and come out!" jeered a voice near the tent door. "come out and have a look at us. the reputable citizens of fenton are to chase you out of town---and we'll do it, after we get through with teaching you manners!" "fellows! hustle!" shouted greg, leaping from his cot. "get ready for trouble. all the topers and loafers who ever knew miller are outside to avenge the beating that miller received from dick!" "we'll show you!" came a hoarse yell, and then the foremost ruffians in the crowd surged in through the tent door. but dave had succeeded in lighting a lantern, and this he took time to hang from a hook on the nearest pole. five boys clad only in their pajamas faced this angry rabble. dan dalzell slept through the confusion until reade, in passing him, hauled him from bed. "what are you men doing here?" thundered reade, striding to the head of the little group of defenders. dick was now beside him like a flash. "you fellows get out of here!" prescott ordered, his eyes flaming. "we'll get out when we get ready!" came the hoarse answer. "now, friends, show these young imps-----" but that speaker got no further, for a blow from tom's fist brought him to the ground. all six of dick & co. were now on the fistic firing line. for a few moments they carried all but consternation to their opponents. as they were forced back from the doorway, however, more and more of the mob poured in. the very weight of numbers was bound to count against dick & co. who were likely to suffer severely at the hands of the miscreants. just then there came a flash across the canvas of the tent. the light had been thrown by a swiftly-moving automobile. there was another automobile directly behind it. both cars came to a stop at the roadside, while from them leaped more than a dozen men. these men were armed---each with a horsewhip. in an instant the invaders found them selves assailed from behind. whish! slash! zip! in another instant all was uproar. yells of pain from the mob rent the air, for these latest arrivals were laying about them with their horsewhips with an energy worthy of a good cause. "here, you, andy hartshorn. stop that! don't you hit me! i know you, and i'll have the law on you!" shrieked one of the frightened wretches. "he who goes to law should have his own hands clean," quoth farmer hartshorn, as he dealt the fellow a stinging blow on the legs. those of the crowd outside the tent fled in every direction, hotly pursued, and again and again they were stung by the lashes. those of the invaders still in the tent were now in a panic to get out and away. as they dashed through the doorway they felt the slashing of horsewhips, while dick prescott and his chums hammered them from the rear. in less than thirty seconds the invaders had been cleared away. they fled in screaming panic, scattering in all directions, some of them being pursued and lashed for a distance of many rods up or down the road. on all sides the fleeing wretches threatened their persecutors with the law, but these threats did not stop the punishment. "i guess it's all right now, boys!" called farmer hartshorn grimly, as he strode up to the place where dick & co. had gathered just beyond their tent. "what was that mob, anyway?" dick asked. "a gang that came after revenge for what you did to miller to-night," laughed the farmer. "i thought as much," muttered dick. "they've been gathering at miller's, and other like places, for a couple of hours," mr. hartshorn went on. "but, as is the case with all such movements, some news of it leaked outside. we got word a bit late, or we'd have been here before that crowd came along. when we knew the word was straight some of us telephoned to others, and our crowd was gotten together, but as it is, we got here in season. are any of you boys hurt?" "no, sir; not one of us," dick declared. "but some of us might have been seriously injured if you gentlemen had been delayed for another minute." "we'll know the rascals to-morrow," spoke up another of the rescuers. "if they appear on the streets at all they'll be recognized. we have marked them up pretty well. they've gone off vowing to have the law on us." "all they'll do will be to put arnica on themselves," declared mr. hartshorn. "and they will send friends to the drugstore for the arnica. they won't take the risk of being recognized on the streets. they'll be a shame-faced lot in the morning." "it was mighty good of you men to come down and help us out," murmured dick prescott gratefully. "we would have had a pretty tough time if we had been left to ourselves." "we'd go further than we've traveled tonight, to help out boys like you," declared another man present. "prescott, that was a fine thing you did to miller to-night, and tom drake will be grateful as long as he lives." "if drake keeps away from drink in the future," dick answered, "he will have reason to congratulate himself." "oh, drake will keep away from the stuff after this," said one of the citizens. "young drake has a head of his own, and we'll see that he uses it. we'll keep a friendly eye over him. don't worry. young tom drake will never associate with any of miller's kind again." "whenever any of you boys want to go to sleep, just say so," urged mr. hartshorn, "and we'll run along." "why, i believe we're a bit waked up, at present," smiled young prescott, as he turned to glance at the others in the light thrown by the automobile lamps. "i don't feel as though i needed any more sleep," laughed tom reade. "if you boys are thinking of sitting up to watch against another surprise, don't bother about it," advised mr. hartshorn. "you've seen the very last that you'll see of those rascals. men of that sort never have nerve enough to attempt a risky thing twice." "i'm going to put some wood in the stove and make coffee," danny grin announced. "can't we offer you a cup of coffee, gentlemen?" proposed prescott. "and sandwiches? we have plenty of the fixings for sandwiches." the idea prevailed to such an extent that dalzell put on a kettle of water to boil, while tom and dave began to slice bread and open tinned meats. "i'm going to sit down on the ground and be comfortable," declared one of the fentonites, when coffee and food were passed around. "do you know, gentlemen," said tom reade, as he munched a sandwich, "i'm beginning to like fenton next to our own town of gridley." "fenton isn't anywhere near as large a place as gridley," replied one of the guests. "no; but for its size fenton is a lively place," reade went on. "there seems to be something happening here every minute." "that is when young fellows like you come along and start the ball rolling," chuckled farmer hartshorn. "there has been more excitement to-night in fenton than i can remember during the last five years. i've seen you play football, prescott, and you're a wonder at the game. yet what you did to-night for young tom drake is a bigger thing than winning a whole string of the greatest football games of the year." "football is more exciting, though," smiled dick. "is it?" demanded mr. hartshorn. "more exciting than what you've been through tonight? then i'll never play football! more excitement than you've had to-night isn't healthful for any growing young fellow!" for fully an hour these men of fenton remained at the camp, talking with their young hosts, and, incidentally, picking up a lot of information about the sports and pastimes that most interest wide-awake boys of to-day. at last, however, disclaiming the thanks offered by dick & co., the guests went away in the automobiles that had brought them, while dick prescott and his chums prepared to finish out the night's rest. chapter xxiii timmy, the gentleman, at home "oh, won't life seem stale when we get back into the land of crowded business streets and schoolhouses?" grumbled reade, as, perched on the seat of the camp wagon, he drove out onto the highway the next morning, followed by the other members of dick & co. on foot. "no, sir!" darry retorted. "life won't seem stale on that account. instead, it will be brightened by the pleasant recollection of this summer's fun, which is now so soon to be ended." "you're not going through fenton, are you, dick?" asked greg. "i guess we'll have to. we were pretty well cleaned out of some of our provisions last night. we shall have to replenish our food supply, and fenton is the only real town along our route to-day. the rest are small farming villages." "but we'll attract a lot of attention," declared holmes. "you won't," laughed darry. "you didn't go to town with us last night, and consequently you're not known there." "i'd rather not go through the town myself," dick explained, "but it seems to me that as long as we must purchase supplies we ought to make a stop in the town that's likely to have the best stores." fenton's principal street had rather a sleepy look this hot august morning. there were but few people abroad as dick & co. turned into the main thoroughfare. at miller's place there was not a sign of life. "i'll wager that brute is applying raw beef to his eyes this morning," muttered tom, somewhat vindictively. prescott's watchful glance soon discovered a provision store that looked more than usually promising. at a word from him tom reined in the horse, while prescott and darrin went inside to make purchases. when they came out they found farmer hartshorn and another man talking with tom reade. "you young men of gridley don't look any the worse, this morning, for the excitement you had last night," said mr. hartshorn, after a cordial greeting. "reade tells me that you left the milk-pail at my house as you came along." "yes, sir," dick nodded. "and with it, we left our very best thanks for the fine treat that milk proved to be to us." "prescott, shake hands with mr. stark. he's our leading lawyer in this little place." "i've heard a good deal about you this morning," said the lawyer, as he shook hands. mr. stark was a tall, thin man, of perhaps forty-five years of age. warm as was the day he was attired wholly in black, a bit rusty, and wore a high silk hat that was beginning to show signs of age. he belonged to a type of rural lawyer that is now passing. "i think we've heard of you, too," smiled prescott innocently. "have you?" asked the lawyer, looking somewhat astonished. "yes," dick went on. "i think it must have been your letter that mr. reuben hinman showed us one day. it was in regard to a bill he had given you to collect. mr. hinman is in the hospital and must need quite a bit of money just at present so i beg to express the hope that you have been able to collect the other half of the debt---the half that belongs to him." lawyer stark reddened a good deal, despite his sallow skin. "why, what about that other half? what's the story?" questioned mr. hartshorn, his eyes, twinkling as though he scented something amusing. "oh---er---just a matter of business between a client and myself," the lawyer explained, in some confusion. "and poor old hinman was the client, eh?" asked the farmer. "we don't know very much about the matter," dave darrin broke in, a trifle maliciously, for he fell that it might be a good thing to show up this lawyer's tricky work. "mr. hinman gave mr. stark a bill of twenty dollars to collect, and-----" "it was---er---all a matter of business between a client and myself, and therefore of a confidential nature," lawyer stark broke in, reddening still more. but dave was in no mood, just then, to be headed off so easily, so he went on: "mr. hinman showed us the letter, and asked us what we thought of it, so that rather broke the confidential nature of the matter. you see," turning to mr. hartshorn, "the bill was for twenty dollars, and it seems that. mr. stark was to have half for his trouble in collecting it. now the letter that mr. hinman showed us-----" "i protest, young man!" exclaimed the lawyer. "the letter," darry went on calmly, "was to the effect that mr. stark had collected his own half of the twenty dollars, and that the collection of mr. hinman's half of the money seemed doubtful." "now, now, stark!" exclaimed the farmer, looking sharply at the lawyer. "surely, that isn't your way of doing business with a poor and aged client like hinman!" "i have collected the remainder of the bill, and am going to mail a settlement to mr. hinman to-day," muttered the lawyer, trying to look unconcerned. "all just a matter of routine office business, mr. hartshorn." but the lawyer felt wholly uncomfortable. he was thinking, at that moment, that he would heartily enjoy kicking darrin if the latter didn't look so utterly healthy and uncommonly able to take care of himself. "do i hear you discussing money that is due my father?" inquired a voice behind them. "if so, my father is very ill, as you doubtless know, and i would take pleasure in receiving the money on his behalf." timothy hinman, looking wholly the man of fashion, made this offer. he had come up behind the group, and there was a look in his eyes which seemed to say that the handling of some of the family money would not be distasteful to him just then. "i'll walk along with you to your office, mr. stark, and receipt for the money, if you're headed that way," suggested the younger hinman again. "unless you hold a regular power of attorney from your father, you could hardly give me a valid receipt," replied the lawyer sourly, as he turned away from mr. hartshorn and the boys and started down the street. "won't my receipt do until my father is up and about once more?" pressed timothy hinman. "no, sir; it won't," snapped the lawyer. "have you heard, this morning, how your father is?" dick inquired. "just heard, at the post-office," hinman answered. "my father had a very bad day yesterday. er---in fact, the chances, i am sorry to say, appear to be very much against his recovery." "he must feel the strain of his father's illness," observed dave sarcastically. "he does!" retorted mr. hartshorn, with emphasis. "if old reuben dies young timothy must go to work for a living. the disgrace of toil will almost kill him. his two sisters are as bad as he is. they've never done a stroke of work, either. all three have lived on the poor old peddler's earnings all their lives, though not one of the three would be willing to keep the old man's house for him. there are a lot of sons and daughters like them to-day. perhaps there always have been." mr. hartshorn waited until dick and dave had finished with the purchases and had loaded them on the wagon. then the farmer shook hands with each member of dick & co. "i'm coming up to gridley to see the football game this thanksgiving," he promised. "i hope i'll see as good a game as i did last year. anyway, i'll see the work of a mighty fine lot of young fellows." prescott expressed again the heartiest thanks of himself and friends for the timely aid given them during the trouble in camp. "we've lost so much time this morning that we'll have to hustle for the rest of the day," tom called down from the wagon seat, as he started the horse. an hour later they were more than three miles past fenton. "get out of the way, tom!" called dave. "drive up into someone's yard like lightning. here comes a whizz wagon that wants the whole highway." behind them, its metal trimmings flashing in the sun, and leaving a trail of dust in its wake, came an automobile traveling at least sixty miles an hour. yet, fast as the car was going when it passed them, the speed did not prevent one occupant from recognizing them and calling out derisively. then, half a mile ahead, the car stopped, turned, and came slowly back toward the wondering gridley boys. chapter xxiv conclusion five rather contemptuous pairs of youthful eyes surveyed dick & co. as their outfit plodded on its way. "aren't they a mucker looking outfit?" demanded one voice from the car. then the automobile shot ahead again. "phin drayne! humph!" said darry rather scornfully. phin drayne is no stranger to the readers of the "_high school boys series_," who will recall phin as the "kicker" who, at the game on the thanksgiving before, had sulked and refused to go on the field, hoping to induce the other members of the gridley high school gridiron team to coax him to play. thus dick, though suffering at that time from injuries, and forbidden to play, had been forced out onto the field to help win the great game of the season. of course a kicker like drayne did not like prescott. dick worried but little on that account. "there! they are coming back," greg announced. "they are grinning at us again." "if they keep on grinning," threatened darry, "we'll sic danny grin onto them. when it comes to grinning our own danny boy can grin down anything on earth." as if to verify that claim, dalzell began to grin broadly. besides this, he turned his face toward the occupants of the automobile as it once more passed dick & co. just at this point the car slowed down. phin drayne looked as though he were exhibiting his fellow students of gridley high school as so many laughable freaks. "that's what i call a vacation on the cheap," drayne remarked to his friends, in a tone wholly audible to dick & co. "it is 'on the cheap,'" dick called out pleasantly. "and yet, our trip hasn't been such a very cheap one, either, and we've earned all the money ourselves. i don't suppose, drayne, you ever earned as much money in your life." "i don't have to," scoffed phin drayne. "my father is able to supply me with whatever money i need." "why!" uttered dan dalzell. "our old drayne is just another timmy hinman of the regular kind, isn't he?" dan looked so comical when he made this observation that his five chums burst into a shout of gleeful laughter. phin drayne didn't relish that very sincere laughter. though he didn't understand the allusion, he suspected that he was being made the butt of a joke by dick & co. "drive on, george," he requested his friend at the wheel. "one hates to be seen in the company of such fellows." the car's speed was let out several notches, and shot down the road ahead of dick & co.'s plain little caravan. "now that i think of it," dick declared, "phin is just another edition of timmy hinman, isn't he? and so are quite a good many of the fellows we know. the world must be nearly as full of timmy hinmans as it is of fathers either wealthy or well-to-do. i'd hate to belong to the timmy hinman crowd!" "as for me," sighed tom comically, "i don't see any chance of my becoming a timmy until i'm able to do it on money accumulated for myself." as phin drayne was still in gridley high school, and had an overweening idea of himself as a football player, it is extremely likely that we shall hear of him again, for which reason, if for no other, we may as well dismiss him from these present pages. a few more days of earnest hiking, followed by restful sleep in camp at night, brought dick & co., one fine afternoon toward the end of august, in sight of the spires of gridley. "there's the good old town!" called dick, first to reach the rise of ground from which the view of gridley was to be had. "good old town, indeed!" glowed dave darrin. "whoop!" shouted tom reade irrepressibly. "whoop! and then---whoop!" dalzell, as he stood still for a few moments, gazing ahead, grinned broadly. "he thinks his native town is a joke!" called greg holmes reproachfully. "no," replied dalzell, with a solemn shake of his head. "i am the joke, and it's on gridley for being my native town." "i'm glad to be back---when i get there," announced hazy. "i shall be glad, even if for nothing more than the chance to rest my feet." "nonsense!" dick retorted. "you'll be out on main street, to-night, ready to tramp miles and miles, if anything amusing turns up." at the first shade by the roadside dick &. co. halted for fifteen minutes to rest. "now, each one of you do a little silent thinking," prescott urged. "give us the topic, then," proposed reade. "fellows," dick went on, mounting a stump and thrusting one hand inside his flannel shirt, in imitation of the pose of an orator, "the next year will be an eventful one for all of us. in that time we shall wind up our courses at the gridley high school. from the day that we set forth from gridley high school we shall be actively at work creating our careers. we are destined to become great men, everyone of us!" "tell that to the senate!" mocked tom reade. "well, then," dick went on, accepting the doubt of their future greatness, "we shall, at least, if we are worth our salt, become useful men in the world, and i don't know but that is very close to being great. for the man who isn't useful in the world has no excuse for living. now, in a little more than another hour, we shall be treading the pavements of good old gridley. let us do it with a sense of triumph." "triumph?" quizzed tom soberly. "what about?" "the sense of triumph," dick retorted, "will arise from the fact that this is to be the last and biggest year in which we are to give ourselves the final preparation for becoming either great or useful men. i'm not going to say any more on this subject. perhaps you fellows think i've been talking nonsense on purpose. i haven't. neither have i tried to preach to you, for preaching is out of my line. but, fellows, i hope you all feel, as solemnly as i do myself, just what this next year must mean to us in work, in study---in a word, in achievement. it won't do any of us any harm, once in a while to feel solemn, for five seconds at a time, over what we are going to do this year to assure our futures." for once tom reade didn't have a jest ready. for once dalzell forgot to grin. the march was taken up again. the next halt was made in gridley, thus ending their long training hike, the boys going to their respective homes. "just give three silent cheers, and we won't startle anyone," tom proposed. "we went out on the trip to harden ourselves," murmured dave, "and i must admit that we have all done it." that evening dick and harry hazelton drove the horse and wagon over to tottenville, where the camp wagon was returned to its owner, mr. newbegin titmouse. "you young men have worn this wagon quite: a bit," whined mr. titmouse, after he had painstakingly inspected the wagon by the light of a lantern. "i think we've brought it back in fine condition, sir," replied dick, and he spoke the truth. "the wagon looks better, mr. titmouse, than you had expected to see it." "you owe me about five dollars for extra wear and tear," insisted the money-loving mr. titmouse. but he didn't get the money. again dick prescott turned out to be an excellent business man. dick was most courteous, but he refuted all of mr. titmouse's claims for extra payment, in the end even such a money-grubber as mr. newbegin titmouse gave up the effort to extort more money for the use of his wagon than was his due. he even used his lantern to light the boys through the dark side alley to the street where the trolley car ran. two or three times after this dick and his friends heard from tom drake. that young workman never repeated his earlier error. in time he paid for his home, then began the saving of money for other purposes. to-day drake owns his own machine shop and is highly prosperous. old reuben hinman lingered many days between life and death. at last he recovered, and in time was discharged from the hospital. however, his first attempts to run the peddler's wagon again revealed the fact that the peddler's days on the road were over. he was no longer strong enough for the hard outdoor life. timothy hinman and his sisters came forward when the overseers of the poor began to look into the peddler's affairs. these dutiful children wanted to be sure to obtain whatever might be their share of their father's belongings. timothy and his sisters obtained their full shares---nothing. the overseers of the poor found that they could effect an arrangement by which the peddler's home, his horse and wagon, stock and good will could be sold for four thousand dollars. this was done. with half the money reuben hinman was able to purchase his way into a home for old men. here he will be maintained, without further expense, as long as he lives, and he will live in a degree of comfort amounting, with this simple-minded ex-peddler, to positive luxury. the other two thousand dollars, at the suggestion of the overseers of the poor, was spent in buying an annuity from a life insurance company. this annuity provides ample spending money for reuben hinman whenever, in fine weather, he wishes to go forth from the home and enjoy himself in the world at large. timothy has been forced to go to work as a valet. the daughters tearfully support themselves as milliners. reuben hinman long ago spent the ten dollars received from lawyer stark. the tramp who accepted work from dr. hewitt made good in every sense of the word. in fact he did so well that, in time, he took unto himself a wife and is now the head of a family, which lives in a little cottage built on dr. hewitt's estate. the name of "jim joggers" has given way to the real name of that former knight of the road. however, as the man is sensitive about his idle past, we prefer to remember him as "joggers." and now we come to the end of the "_high school boys vacation series_." it is to be hoped that these four little volumes have not dwelt so much upon fun as to make it appear that pleasure is all there is in the world that is worth while. dick prescott and his friends were destined to discover that all the pleasure in the world that is worth anything at all comes only as the reward of continuous, hard and useful endeavor. the further adventures that befell dick prescott and his chums while they were still gridley high school boys will be found in the fourth volume of the "_high school boys series_," which is published under the title, "_the high school captain of the team; or, dick & co. leading the athletic vanguard_." in that volume, the last dealing with dick prescott's high school days, the value of sports and the worth of honor and faithful work will be set forth as strongly as lies within the power of the narrator of these events. note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see 17865-h.htm or 17865-h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/1/7/8/6/17865/17865-h/17865-h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/1/7/8/6/17865/17865-h.zip) the meadow-brook girls in the hills or the missing pilot of the white mountains by janet aldridge author of the meadow-brook girls under canvas, the meadow-brook girls across country, the meadow-brook girls afloat, the meadow-brook girls by the sea, etc. [frontispiece: "i'm the guide, janus grubb."] the saalfield publishing company akron, ohio ---------new york made in u. s. a. copyright mcmxiv by the saalfield publishing company table of contents chapter i the man with the green goggles ii miss elting's mysterious caller iii the start that came to grief iv an exciting night v on the burning bridge vi their troubles multiply vii horses give the alarm viii crazy jane's "find" ix scaling the high cliffs x a slippery climb xi the tragedy of chocorua xii tommy falls out of bed xiii placing the blame xiv giving a toboggan points xv leaving the trail in a hurry xvi "such a lovely slide" xvii what came of shooting the chute xviii face by a fresh mystery xix the story the light told xx seeking a desperate revenge xxi the ascent of mt. washington xxii a rout and a capture xxiii a mysterious disappearance xxiv conclusion illustrations "i'm the guide, janus grubb." . . . . . . _frontispiece_ "green goggles!" cried harriet excitedly. up and up wound the trail. the meadow-brook girls in the hills chapter i the man with green goggles "i hear that janus grubb is going to take a passel of gals on a tramp over the hills," observed the postmaster, helping himself to a cracker from the grocer's barrel. "gals?" questioned the storekeeper. "yes. there's a lot of mail here for the parties, mostly postals. can't make much out of the postals, but some of the letters i can read through the envelopes by holding them against the window." "lemme have a look," urged the grocer eagerly. "not by a hatful. i'm an officer of the government. the secrets of the government must be guarded, i tell ye. there's six of them----" "you don't say! six letters?" interrupted the grocer. "no, gals. one's name is elting. she's what they call a chaperon. another is jane mccarthy--i reckon some relation of the party who wrote me a letter asking what i knew about jan. i reckon jan got the job on my recommendation." "who are these girls, and what do they think they're goin' to do up here?" "call themselves 'the meadow-brook gals.' funny name, eh?" grinned the postmaster, balancing a soda cracker on the tip of his forefinger, then deftly tossing it edgewise into his open mouth. "they pay janus ten dollars a week for toting them around," he chuckled. "read it in the mccarthy party's letter to jan." "what are they going to do up in the hills?" "climb over the rocks for their health," grinned the postmaster. "huh! when they coming to town?" "on the evening mail train to-day. hello! there's jan now on his way to meet them. say! will you look at him! jan's had his whiskers pruned. and, i swum, if he hasn't got on a new pair of boots. git them of you?" the storekeeper nodded. "how much?" demanded the postmaster. "four seventy-three. knocked down from five dollars. wish i'd known he was going to draw down ten dollars a week for this job. i'd have got four seventy-five at least for the boots." "never mind, you can let jan make it up on something else," comforted the postmaster. "reckon i'll go down to the station to see the folks come in." "i was going to ask you to look after the store while i went down," returned the grocer. the postmaster decided that he wouldn't go. the other man hurried out, while the government employe helped himself not only to another handful of crackers, but to a liberal slice of cheese as well. he stood munching his crackers and cheese and gazing out reflectively into the gathering twilight, when he suddenly started and peered more keenly. that which had attracted his attention was a stoop-shouldered man. the fellow wore a soft hat, the brim of which was slightly turned up in front, but his face was well masked by a huge pair of green automobile goggles. "well, i swum!" ejaculated the postmaster. "if i didn't know the feller was in jail up at concord, i'd say that was big charlie. hm-m-m. no. this one is too stooped for charlie. charlie's six foot two in his socks. i wonder who this fellow is?" even then the mail train was whistling, and the postmaster began bustling about preparing to receive the evening mail, always an event for him as well as for the villagers, who ordinarily flocked into the office, hoping to catch sight of a familiar handwriting or hear a name mentioned that would give them foundation for a bit of gossip. it was while he was thus engaged that five young girls and a young woman some years their senior got down from a coach to the railway platform, where they stood gazing expectantly about them. the young women were dressed in tasteful blue serge suits, with hats of the same material, a sort of uniform, the villagers decided, and, had not the station platform been too dark, the eager spectators would have seen that the faces of the visitors were tanned almost to swarthiness. "shall i ask some one if mr. janus grubb is here?" questioned one of the girls. "no, wait a moment, harriet," answered the young woman in charge of the party, "i will ask. surely the guide should be here to meet us, since miss mccarthy's father had arranged for it." "you are looking for a guide, miss?" questioned a voice at her side. miss elting, the guardian of the party, glanced up inquiringly. she looked into a face of which she could see but little. the most marked feature of the face was a pair of huge green automobile goggles. these gave to the face, which she observed wore a peculiar pallor, a sinister effect, caused no doubt by the goggles. "we are looking for mr. janus grubb. are you he?" she asked sharply. the man nodded. "this way," he said in a hurried voice. "come, girls," urged the guardian; "i thought mr. grubb would not fail us." "and a funny looking person he is," scoffed jane mccarthy. her companions, hazel holland, margery brown and grace thompson, giggled. harriet burrell plucked the sleeve of the guardian's light coat. "i wouldn't go with him, miss elting," she urged. "why not, dear?" "i don't like his looks. make him take off his glasses. there is something peculiar about him." "this way, please!" the guide's voice took on a tone of command. they had nearly reached the upper end of the platform when he issued his peremptory order. just then a shout was heard to the rear of them. a man came running toward them. "hey, there!" he called. the girls halted. "are you the meadow-brook gals?" "yes, sir," answered miss elting, brightly. "well, i'm mighty glad to know about it. 'pears as if you didn't know where you was going." "and who are you, sir?" demanded the guardian. "i'm the guide, janus grubb." "will you listen to the man!" chuckled jane. harriet nodded with satisfaction. "janus grubb? why, sir, i don't understand. we have already met mr. grubb," cried miss elting. "somebody is crazy," muttered jane, "i think the man with the green goggles is the lunatic." "show me the man who said he was myself," roared the newcomer. miss elting turned to point out the man who had been piloting them along the platform. she uttered a little exclamation. the man with the goggles was nowhere in sight. "why, where did mr. grubb go?" she exclaimed. "i'm janus grubb and i'd like to see the man who says i'm not," shouted the guide indignantly, forgetting that he was addressing a woman. "please come to the station agent with me. if he identifies you, i am satisfied," declared miss elting with dignity, looking disapprovingly at the excited man. she moved back toward the station, followed by her charges, and a moment later the railroad agent had identified janus to her entire satisfaction. the girls giggled. there was something funny about their having been deceived so easily, but miss elting did not regard matters in that light. "can you tell me who the man with the goggles is"? she demanded, turning to the real guide after the identification had been made. "if i knew him there'd be trouble," threatened janus. "what kind of a looking feller was he?" harriet answered, giving a very excellent description of the man with the goggles. "don't know him," said janus, stroking his whiskers reflectively. "lucky for him that i don't. what do you want to do now?" "go to the post-office," cried the girls. "there must be mail for as there," added hazel. "i'm so anxious to hear from home." "yeth, tho am i," lisped little grace thompson. "you have arranged for us at the hotel for to-night, haven't you?" demanded jane mccarthy. "father said you would look after these matters for me." "it's all right, miss. we'll go to the postoffice now. i'll look after your baggage when we get you settled for the night. we won't take it away from the station till we talk over what you want to do. are you ready?" they walked down the street, laughing and chatting, a happy lot of girls, followed by a group of curious villagers, who even accompanied them into the post-office. it was unusual to see so many pretty girls in compton, for summer visitors seldom came to the place. furthermore, these were different from any visitors ever seen there, so far as dress was concerned. while waiting for the mail to be distributed, the girls laughed and talked, apparently utterly oblivious of the presence of the staring villagers. miss elting inquired for mail for the party as soon as the wicket was opened. "here, tommy, is a letter for you," she smiled. grace took the letter eagerly. "and here are letters for harriet, hazel, and margery. there is one for me, too. it is from your father, jane." "i have a letter here from dad. i--will you look at that?" jane stood staring at the window. for a brief instant she had caught sight of a man wearing a huge pair of goggles. he was peering through the post-office window at them. but as she looked, the man disappeared. "it was our friend with the green goggles again as sure as i'm alive!" she exclaimed. "he was staring in here for all he was worth, but the minute he saw me looking at him he vanished." "i am afraid we are going to have trouble with this mysterious individual," declared harriet. "he seems to have developed a peculiar interest in our affairs that is far from flattering." "we are not going to be annoyed as we were last year," said miss elting firmly. "mr. grubb, there is something very strange in all this. if for any reason you know this man or have even the slightest idea of his identity i must ask you to be perfectly frank with me." janus grubb declared solemnly that he had not the least idea who the man could have been. nor had he been able to find any person who had seen the fellow approach them. miss elting and the guide stepped out to the porch, followed by the girls, still chatting over the news from home contained in their letters. "now, where do you want to go first?" asked the guide after they had reached the porch. "we will trust to your judgment," answered miss elting. "you know best. we wish to try a little mountain climbing and we wish to see the larger of the white mountains. we would like to see everything of interest in the white mountain country." "that's a pretty big contract," chuckled janus; "but i reckon we can show you what you want to see. for instance, there's mt. chocorua, moosilauke, mt. washington, mt. lafayette and as many more as you like, all the real thing and offering all the climbing you will care to do, unless you want to follow the trails that all the visitors take." "no, we do not. we prefer to blaze our own trails, or, rather, to have you do so, and the rougher they prove the better, as long as it is safe. my girls are equal to any sort of rough-and-tumble climbing. how do we get to the mountains?" "i've engaged a carry-all to take us out to the foothills. from there you can walk or ride. if we take the rough trails, of course we'll have to climb." "i shall ask you to lay out your route, then arrange to have some of our baggage shipped on to meet us, say a week from now. our necessary equipment we can carry. the girls are used to shouldering heavy packs. you will provide climbing equipment. i understand from miss mccarthy that you are a climber." "i'm everything and anything in the white mountain range," answered the guide boldly. "then, what do you say if we make mount chocorua first?" "perhaps you had better decide for us." "this mountain is three thousand five hundred feet high. the way we shall take you will, i think, find rugged enough to please the young ladies," added janus, with a grin behind his whiskers. "what time will you be ready to start?" "as soon after daylight as we shall be able to get our breakfast." "he had better bring our baggage from the station to-night. then we can have our packs in readiness," suggested harriet burrell. "yes, please do that, mr. grubb." "anything else, miss?" "not that i think of for the moment. we have our tent in sections. we also shall pack our blankets and such other things as will be needed. the rest of the equipment can be sent on ahead to meet us wherever you say. i don't know what the most convenient point would be. where would you suggest?" "i can send it to the tip-top station on moosilauke. will that do?" "yes." "then i'll be going," said the guide. "i'll take you over to the compton house, and if you want to see me again this evening, you can call me on the telephone." janus had started to move toward the steps preparatory to going about his duties, when an exclamation from harriet burrell caused them to turn sharply to her. "there he is! there is the man with the goggles!" she whispered, pointing toward the store. they saw a stoop-shouldered man standing with his back against the large window. he was facing them, but, his face being in the shadow, they were unable to distinguish the features. the light in the store being at his back, and his head slightly turned to the steps, toward which janus was moving, harriet burrell was enabled to look directly through one of the lenses. she saw that the glass was green and that it masked effectually the eyes of the strange man. "quick, mr. grubb!" cried the girl. "the man again! find out who he is!" janus, who had moved down to the second step, now started back, and was on the porch with one bound, thrusting the meadow-brook girls aside in his eagerness to reach the man who had impersonated him. "where is he?" shouted janus, in a voice that brought most of the villagers from the store on the run. "i see him!" grubb made a leap, when, as though he had vanished into thin air, the stranger disappeared from sight. the meadow-brook girls gasped in amazement. but harriet burrell, quicker in thought and action than even the guide himself, leaped from the end of the porch and sped swiftly around the side of the store toward the rear yard. chapter ii miss elting's mysterious caller "come back here!" shouted the guide. harriet halted. she hesitated at sight of the black shadows there rather than at the command. she distinctly heard some one floundering over a high board fence that shut in the rear yard of the store and post-office. janus's hand was on her arm. "well, i swum!" he exclaimed. "oh, that's too bad. he got away," cried harriet ruefully. "i was too slow. i could have caught him just as well as not, had i not been so stupid as to wait." harriet and the guide walked to where her companions were standing, not certain what they ought to do, not quite sure what had occurred. "this one's all right," chuckled janus. "she's got the spunk, but she needs watching. she'll get the whole outfit in trouble. tell me about it," he concluded, turning to harriet. "you saw it, sir?" asked harriet quickly. "i didn't see anything," returned the guide. "the man was standing on the spot where you are standing at this moment. he was listening to what we were saying, but for what reason i can't imagine. i made the mistake of calling to you. i shouldn't have done that. when you started for him he disappeared." "yes, we saw him; then we did not," added miss elting. "you didn't stop to think. you were too excited, and, besides, i was nearer to the man than were the rest of you girls. he simply dropped down on all fours and ran off the porch like a dog or a cat." "well, i swum!" muttered the guide. "mr. grubb, i don't like this," declared the guardian severely. "neither do i, miss," he replied in a tone that made the girls laugh. "i am not certain what i ought to do, mr. grubb," continued miss elting. "if it means that my girls are to be annoyed and disturbed, we shall be obliged to look for another guide. you know i have a personal responsibility in this matter. i shall have to think it over. unless you can give me reasonable assurance that these incidents will not be repeated, then i shall have to make some different arrangements. you will please send the luggage to the hotel as suggested. i will see you early in the morning, at any rate. come, girls." janus, somewhat downcast and very thoughtful, led the way to the compton house, a short distance down the street from the post-office and grocery store. the girls began talking almost as soon as they had left the store porch. "please, please don't discharge him," begged hazel. "he is such a nice man." "and thuch nithe whithkerth," added grace thompson. "he lookth jutht like an uncle of mine, who----" "i agree with the girls, miss elting," interjected harriet. "we are able to take care of ourselves. perhaps this is simply another crazy man, of whom we shall be rid as soon as we leave the village for the mountains in the morning. please don't dismiss mr. grubb." "i shall have to think this matter over," was the guardian's grave reply. "we do not care to repeat last summer's experience. you remember what came of relying on the assurance of a stranger." miss elting referred to the manner in which they had been tricked by the man who had charge of her brother's houseboat the previous summer, and whose treachery had caused them so much annoyance. none of the meadow-brook girls made reply. they were as fully puzzled in this respect as was their guardian. miss elting, however, pondered over the mystery all the way to the hotel. they found the compton house a very comfortable country hotel, rather more so than some others of which they had had experience during their previous journeys. arriving at the hotel, they hurriedly prepared for supper, for they were late and the other guests of the house had eaten and left the dining room before the meadow-brook girls had even entered the hotel. by the time supper was finished, their luggage had come over from the station. janus grubb, went home, not a little troubled as well as mystified by the occurrences of the evening. who the man could possibly be he had not the remotest idea. he tried to recall who of his acquaintances might be guilty of playing such a joke on him. to the mind of janus the incident could have been only a prank, though he questioned the good taste of any such interference between himself and his customers. on the contrary, miss elting and her young charges attached more serious meaning to the performances of the man who had regarded them through green goggles. they regarded the incident with suspicion and agreed to proceed only with the utmost caution. none of the readers of this series need an introduction to harriet burrell and her three friends, who figured so prominently in "the meadow-brook girls under canvas." it was in this narrative that the four chums made their first expedition into the pocono woods and for several happy weeks were members of camp wau-wau, a campfire association of which the girls became loyal members. at the end of their stay in camp they decided to walk to their home town, sending their camping outfit on ahead. the story of their journey home on foot was told in the second volume, "the meadow-brook girls across country," in which an italian and his dancing bear, a campful of gipsies and a band of marauding tramps furnished much of the excitement. then, too, the friendly aid and rivalries of a camp of boys known as the tramp club furnished many enjoyable situations. it was in the third volume, "the meadow-brook girls afloat," that harriet burrell and her friends were shown as encountering a considerable amount of adventure. the girls led an eventful life on the old houseboat on one of the new hampshire lakes, and also encountered a mystery which, with the help of the tramp club, was run to earth, but the solving of it entailed the loss of the "red rover," their houseboat. and now the meadow-brook girls were about to spend a few weeks among the "marvelous crystal hills," as the white mountains in new hampshire have been aptly termed. much time and thought had been spent in preparing properly for this long vacation jaunt. camp equipage had all been overhauled, and much that would serve excellently where there was transport service had been discarded for this journey into the hills. resting for a while after finishing supper, the girls began to make up neat packs containing such bare equipment and food supplies as they believed to be indispensable. then there were the tent, blankets and cooking utensils to be looked after. of course, the guide would carry much of this dunnage, yet our girls were no weaklings, and no one of them expected to shirk carrying her fair share of the load. it was after nine o'clock when harriet and her chums finished the making-up of the packs. soon after a clerk knocked on the door of miss elting's room. "there's a man below who wishes to speak with you," the clerk informed her. "it must be mr. grubb," guessed the guardian, and left her packing to go downstairs. she glanced into the lobby of the hotel; then, not seeing janus there, stepped into the parlor. a man, a stranger, was sitting near a door that led out to the hotel veranda. in the light of the kerosene lamp that hung suspended from the ceiling she was not able to make out his features at first. she saw that he wore a heavy black beard, that he was rather roughly dressed, but that his hands were white. "are you the man who wished to speak with miss elting?" she asked, confessing to herself that she did not wholly like the appearance of the man. "yes," he answered, rising. now that the light fell on his face she noted that he had a low, receding forehead. his beard covered the greater part of his face. "about what do you wish to speak with me?" "well, it's rather a delicate matter, miss," the man made reply, gazing down at the carpet, twisting his soft felt hat awkwardly. "i--i wanted to ask if you needed any assistance." "what do you mean?" "you are going into the mountains?" "yes, sir." "you will need to have some one to show you the way and look after you and your party." "we already have engaged some one to do that. you mean a guide, i suppose?" he nodded. "may i ask your name?" "john collins." "do you live here?" she asked, curious to know more about the man, whom she began to distrust. "not now. i live over in the next village. i was in town and heard that you folks wanted a guide. i know more about the white mountains than any other man in the state of new hampshire. i can show you more, and take better care of your party, than anybody else you could find." "do you know janus grubb?" "ye--yes," collins twisted uneasily, "i know him." "he is to be our guide. the arrangements were made some time ago by the father of one of our young women. mr. grubb starts with us tomorrow morning, unless there should be some change in the arrangements." "i'm sorry, miss." "i'm sorry, too, since you have been so kind as to offer your services," replied the guardian politely. "i didn't just mean it that way, miss. i meant about janus." "how so?" "i don't just like to say. yes, i will, too. do you know anything about jan grubb?" "no," admitted miss elting. "then you'd better ask. i am afraid you are putting too much confidence in him." "mr. collins, please be more explicit. what do you mean?" "you'll find out after you've got out into the hills. he doesn't know any more about the hills than a little yellow dog that's spent all its life in town. he'll get you into all kinds of trouble, and then he'll leave you to get out of it as best you can. you remember what i tell you." "of course, i thank you for telling me," answered the guardian rather stiffly. "however, we are quite satisfied with mr. grubb. as i understand it, he is a highly respected citizen of compton and an efficient mountain guide. that will be quite sufficient for us." "i need this job. i--i need the money, miss," whined the stranger. "i am satisfied with the arrangements i have already made." miss elting turned to leave the room. "my family needs it. i've been out of work a long time, and----" "i am very sorry. i wish it were in my power to assist you, but i have very little voice in the matter. another person--the one who is paying the expenses of this trip--attended to all that. you will see that it is quite useless to plead, deep as my sympathy is for you." the man rose and eyed her with an expression that was particularly unpleasant to behold. miss elting returned her strange visitor's gaze. something other than his looks repelled her, yet there was nothing in either manner or words to account for this feeling of repulsion on the part of the guardian. "in case anything should occur to make it necessary for us to look further for a guide i shall remember you," she said slowly. "i suppose i can reach you here at compton?" "n--n--no," was the hesitating answer. "but if you need me, i'll he about. mark what i tell you, jan grubb is going to get you into a fine mess! you will be sorry you ever engaged him; that's all i've got to say about it. good night, lady." "good night, mr. collins," replied the woman coldly. his final words, so full of rancor, had destroyed what little sympathy he had aroused in her. miss elting stood aside while the man stepped toward the door. at this juncture harriet burrell appeared in the doorway leading to the hall. she had missed miss elting, and, not finding the guardian in her room, had come downstairs in search of her. harriet had not known that the guardian was engaged. "oh, i beg your pardon, miss elting. i did not know--i thought you were alone." "it is all right. come in, harriet. what did you wish?" harriet did not reply. instead, she gazed perplexedly at the retreating form of miss elting's late caller. "you'll be sorry you ever took up with that hound," flung back the fellow, turning as he was about to step out on the veranda. miss elting made no reply. her lips tightened a little, then she turned with a half-smile, regarding harriet's frowning face quizzically. "what does it mean, miss elting?" questioned the girl. "i don't know, my dear. the man wanted to act as our guide. i am glad he isn't the one who is to lead us over the mountains. i don't like him at all. you heard what he just said?" harriet nodded. "he was referring to mr. grubb." "oh!" "i don't know what to make of it. what reason do you suppose he could have for coming to me in this manner? it is all very strange." "i don't know, miss elting. i am wondering." "wondering what?" there was something in the set of the shoulders, in the swing of them as the man walked away, in the poise of the head, that had impressed harriet burrell as being vaguely familiar. something of this must have been reflected in the meadow-brook girl's face, judging from the guardian's next question. "of what are you thinking, dear?" "i have seen that man before, miss elting." "where?" "i don't know. my memory connects him with something unpleasant. i wish i knew what it is, for i am positive there is something wrong with him. wait! i know! i know of whom the man reminds me. can't you see it? don't you know?" cried harriet eagerly. the guardian shook her head. chapter iii the start that came to grief "who do you think it is, harriet?" harriet burrell whispered something in the ear of the guardian. again miss elting shook her head, this time with decision. "wrong, this time. there isn't the slightest resemblance that i could observe. i thought of that, too. but let's not bother our heads about it any further. we have things of greater importance to consider this evening, and, besides, we must go to bed soon; we are to make an early start in the morning, you know." harriet shook her brown head slowly. she was positive that she was right in her identification of the visitor, collins. she determined to ask some questions at the first opportunity. this she did on the following morning, inquiring of the hotel clerk about the man who had so strangely called on miss elting. the clerk said he had never heard of the man. in the preparations that followed harriet forgot about the caller. grubb had a carry-all at the hotel before they had finished their breakfast. the equipment for the party occupied little room. janus had consulted with miss elting about the food supplies, and these were packed in the smallest possible space, with the exception of a few packages for their use before they got into the mountains. the drive to the point where they would leave the wagon would occupy the greater part of the day. the girls looked forward to that day's journey with keen anticipation. they started out decorously and quietly, for the inhabitants of the village were early risers and the girls did not wish to attract unpleasant attention to themselves. once they were well out of the village, however, the meadow-brook girls' spirits bubbled forth in song, shout and merry laughter. the air was crisp and cool until the sun came up, then it grew warm. janus, sitting up by the driver, was almost sternly silent. miss elting, in the light of the previous evening's interview, regarded him from time to time with inquiring eyes. she could not believe what her caller had told her of their guide. janus was plainly an honest, well-intentioned man. of this she had been reassured that morning in an interview with the proprietor of the compton house. at noon, their appetites sharpened by the bracing air and the fact that they had eaten an early breakfast, the party made a halt. the horses were unhitched and allowed to graze beside the road. the guide built a fire, harriet and jane in the meantime getting out something for their luncheon, which was to be a cooked one instead of a "cold bite." hazel, jane and margery spread a blanket on the ground, while tommy sat on a rail fence, offering expert advice but declining to assist in the preparations. it was a merry meal. even janus was forced to smile now and then, the driver making no effort to conceal his amusement over the bright sallies of the meadow-brook girls. "come! we must be going, unless you want to camp beside the road to-night," urged the guide. the girls had finished their luncheon and were strolling about the field. "why, we haven't thettled our dinner yet," complained tommy. "you'll have it well settled in less than an hour. the road from here on is rough," returned janus. "you'll be wanting another meal before the sun is three hours from the hills." "we want to pick some wild flowers," called margery. "girls, don't delay us! the driver wishes to get back home to-night and we must reach the camping place in which mr. grubb has planned for us to spend the night," warned the guardian. "yes, we've got to hike right along," agreed janus. "hook up those nags and be on the way, jim," he added, speaking to the driver. it was only a short time until they were on the way again. the country was becoming more sparsely settled, the hills more rugged and the forests more numerous. here and there slabs of granite might be seen cropping up through the soil; in the distance, now and then, they were able to catch glimpses of the bare ridges of the mountains toward which they were journeying. "those mountains," explained the guide, "are called 'the roof of new england.' there's not much of any timber on top, but on the sides you will find some spruce, yellow pine and hemlock. it's all granite a little way under the subsoil; and over the subsoil grows moss. among these mosses and the roots of the trees almost every important stream in new england takes its rise, and some of them grow to be quite decent rivers. you ladies live in this state, don't you?" miss elting nodded. "i am afraid we never realized what a beautiful state new hampshire is until we began looking about a little," answered harriet burrell. "there are too many thtoneth," objected tommy. "i thhall be afraid of thtubbing my toeth all the time." "lift your feet and you won't," suggested margaret, with a smile. "buthter, i didn't athk for your advithe," retorted tommy. "there are the foothills," interrupted the guide, "and there is chocorua. isn't she a beauty?" this was the girls' first real glimpse of the white mountains. chocorua loomed high in the air, reminding them of pictures they had seen of ancient temples, except that this was higher than any temple they had ever seen pictured. its gray domes, flanked by the other tops of the neighboring range, stood out clearly defined. "three thousand five hundred feet above sea level," the guide informed them, waving a hand toward chocorua. "doesn't look that high, does it?" "have we got to climb up there?" questioned margery. "we are going to. we do not have to if we don't want to," replied hazel. "oh, dear, i'm too tired to go on," whined margery. "i knew buthter could never climb a mountain," observed tommy, with a hopeless shake of her little tow-head. "but never mind, buthter, you can thtay here and wait until we come back. it will only be a few weekth and you won't be tho very lonely. of courthe, you will mith me a great deal." "don't worry yourself over me," snapped, buster. "i can climb as well as you. but if i did stay behind, you can make up your mind i wouldn't miss you." "stop squabbling, girls," laughed harriet. "neither one of you could get along without the other." the granite domes soon faded in the waning light. the driver urged on his horses. the carry-all bumped over the uneven road, swaying giddily from side to side, the girls clinging tightly to the sides of the wagon, fearing that they might be thrown out. darkness shut out pretty much everything at an early hour. janus decided that they had better wait for supper till they reached the "shelter," a cabin part way up the side of the mountain, where tourists halted for a rest or to stay over night when intending to climb the mountain. it was not expected that there would be any save themselves there on this occasion. the road grew so uneven that the driver became a little uneasy. he finally declared that he did not dare to try following the trail up to the shelter that night; that either he would put them down at the foot of the mountain or make camp there until the following morning, when he would continue the journey up the mountain to the shelter. janus consulted with miss elting. he said they could walk to the shelter in a couple of hours, provided the girls were hard enough to stand the climb. the guardian assured him that they were equal to anything in the walking line. it was, therefore, settled that the driver should take them to the foot of the mountain, whence they would make their way on foot to the stopping place for the night, thus beginning their tramp at the base of the mountain. "how much farther have we to go?" questioned harriet. "a mile farther on we pass over a long, covered bridge. the road takes a sharp bend beyond that. the foot of the mountain lies less than a mile from the end of the bridge. we shall soon be there," answered janus. the girls burst forth into song. janus had to shout to make himself heard when he spoke to the driver. the horses were traveling at a lively pace. they did not enjoy the disturbance behind them, and their driver, having wrapped the reins about his arms to give him greater purchase, was pulling sturdily, his feet braced against the dashboard of the carry-all. "here's the bridge," cried the guide. a lantern had been lighted and hung from the rear axle of the carry-all. but this did little more than cast weird, flickering shadows ahead. it certainly did not light up the road ahead of there. in the dense darkness the bridge was not visible to the eyes of the meadow-brook girls. "the bridge ith coming. low bridge!" piped tommy. "be quiet; i fear we are making the driver's work difficult," warned miss elting. "oh, but isn't this the fine ride?" cried crazy jane. "it's almost like being in my own darlin' automobile with the landscape slipping past on a greased track. now, what if one of the horses should fall down? wouldn't we be tumbled into a goose pile!" chuckled jane. "oh, thave me!" cried tommy. "don't suggest anything so awful," begged margery. "oh! what's that!" exclaimed harriet. the others did not know to what she referred, but they felt a sudden jolt as the vehicle lurched to the side of the road, then back again. "what is it?" demanded hazel. "the horses have taken fright," answered the guardian calmly. "be careful that you do not excite them further." "are--are the hortheth running away?" stammered tommy. "not yet," reassured harriet. "don't be frightened," called back the guide encouragingly. "jim can hold any hosses that ever chewed a bit. we'll be on the bridge in a minute; then they can thrash all they want to. look out!" there followed a crash, a breaking, splintering sound as the right rear wheel of the carry-all swerved into the side of the covered bridge a few inches from the outer end. the wheel put a hole through the siding of the bridge. it was fortunate for the carry-all that the wheel had not swerved a second earlier. had it done so, the carry-all must have been wrecked on the stout post at the outer end of the long bridge. what had so startled the horses none of the occupants of the carry-all knew. the driver knew that they had had a narrow escape from being hurled down an embankment. it was a bad place for horses to take fright. he had managed, however, to pick the team up by the reins and set them down in the middle of the road, where they remained but a few seconds before they were swerving to one side again, then they began leaping and galloping through the long, covered bridge. once more a rear wheel raked the boards. the girls cried out, fearing that they would be hurled through the siding and down into the river. they were clinging to the sides of the vehicle, gripping them firmly with their hands. "don't lose your presence of mind, girls," cried miss elting. "i think the driver has the animals under control now." she was obliged to shout in order to make herself heard. the roar of the carry-all on the floor of the bridge was terrifying. as the vehicle rolled over the loose planks of the bridge floor the sound was almost as if a gatling gun were being fired, accompanied by a crash, now and then, as the wagon was hurled against the side of the bridge. "oh, what a mess!" shouted jane mccarthy. "are we near the other end, or has the miserable old bridge turned around since we started? the horses are now going faster than ever, and we'll be going at the same rapid gait a few moments from now, or maybe seconds----" crash! the carry-all once more struck the side. then something else occurred. there was a sudden stoppage of the horses, accompanied by the sound of breaking woodwork. it was as if the bridge were collapsing. the meadow-brook girls were piled in a heap at the forward end of the vehicle, then hurled straight over the dashboard and on over the horses, amid shouts and screams. there seemed to be no end to the crashing and screaming for some moments; then a sudden silence settled over the darkened structure, broken only by the frightened neigh of a horse. chapter iv an exciting night "girls!" it was miss elting who called. "oh, girls, are you hurt?" "i'm killed. thave me!" moaned grace. "i think i'm alive, but i'm not sure," cried jane. "i've scraped the skin from my nose entirely. what a mess! what a mess!" "wait!" the guardian's voice was commanding. "margery, hazel!" "ye--es," answered two voices in chorus. they sounded far away. "harriet!" there was no reply. she repeated the call, but there was still no answer. miss elting became alarmed now. she was still sitting in the broken carry-all, to which she had clung desperately at the sudden stoppage, thus preventing herself from being hurled out, as had occurred to her charges. thus far not a word had been heard from the two men. now, a groan somewhere ahead attracted the teacher's attention. "girls, don't move! we do not know what has occurred. does any of you know where mr. grubb is?" "yeth. he ith right here. i jutht touched hith whithkerth," answered tommy in a weak, plaintive little voice. "i gueth he ith dead." the guardian clambered from the rear of the carry-all. the lantern had been extinguished by the shock. she got down, carefully groping about in the blackness for the lantern. she uttered a little exclamation of thanksgiving when her fingers came in contact with it. but the chimney had been shattered by the shock. only the lower part of it remained, just enough to shield the flame when once this should have been restored. it was but the work of a few seconds to relight the lantern. miss elting ran around to the front of the vehicle. she beheld a strange scene. both horses were down. at first they appeared to be lying on the floor of the bridge. a closer look showed the guardian that the forelegs of each animal had gone right through the floor. then the further discovery was made that there was little flooring at this point. the planks that had once formed the floor at this particular spot lay piled on each side of the driveway. only the beams held the horses from falling through to the water, a few feet below. a short distance beyond lay janus grubb, sprawled on his back; while close beside him, lay the form of the driver. margery and hazel were sitting to the right, huddled in each other's arms. tommy, white-faced, with her feet curled under her, sat close beside janus, gazing down into his bewhiskered face. jane mccarthy was leaning against one side of the bridge. her own face had lost much of its usual color. "harriet!" gasped miss elting, "what has happened to her?" jane shook her head and pointed to the opening in the floor. the guardian understood. harriet must have been hurled right through and down into the river. "girls! look after the two men. hurry!" she ran to the opening, then lying down, peered into the darkness. "ha-r-r-r-i-et!" "hoo-e-e-e-e-e!" the guardian sprang to her feet. it was unmistakably harriet burrell who had answered her, but the voice of the meadow-brook girl had sounded far away. miss elting believed that the girl had succeeded in reaching the bank of the river. jane had thrown herself down beside the unconscious guide and was at work making heroic efforts to bring him back to consciousness. the driver already was struggling to get to his feet. tommy hopped up, and, hurrying to him, gave such assistance as her strength would permit. the driver staggered; after walking a few steps he leaned against the side of the bridge with both hands pressed to his forehead. tommy regarded him wonderingly. his head was still dizzy; he had no clear conception of what had occurred. by this time the guardian had gone to jane's assistance and was pressing a bottle of smelling salts to the nostrils of janus grubb. janus twisted his head uneasily, as though to get away from the pungent odor of the salts. "he will be all right in a few moments, i think. i wish we had some water," murmured miss elting. jane ran to the wagon. she returned with a rope and a pail. tying the rope to the pail, she lowered the latter through the opening in the floor. a few moments later she presented a pail of water to miss elting, which the guardian sprinkled little by little over the face of their guide. janus gasped, struggled and rolled over. jane turned him on his back again. this time a solid volume of water was dashed into his face. he turned over and made a feeble attempt to rise. another volume of water smote him in the back of the neck, hurling him to the bridge floor. this time janus got to his feet, brushing his eyes, for they were so full of water that he could not see. "i can let him down at the end of the rope and souse him in the stream," suggested crazy jane. "no, no, no!" protested the guardian. she took janus firmly by the arm. "where do you feel bad?" "i swum! i swum!" mumbled the guide. "i swum!" "you'd have had to swim if you had gone through the hole in the floor," retorted crazy jane. "harriet went down there, and----" "eh? what--wha--at?" gasped the guide, blinking rapidly. "sit down a moment," urged miss elting. "none of us is seriously hurt. how about you?" gazing at the driver. "no bones broken, i trust?" the driver shook his head. janus was gazing at the opening in the floor with a puzzled expression on his face. he stared at the planks banked on each side, nodding understandingly. "been fixing the bridge. forgot to put the planks back in place," he muttered. "isn't it rather strange that so important a thing should have been forgotten, mr. grubb?" questioned the guardian significantly. "i swum! i swum!" repeated janus, running reflective fingers through his beard. "you haven't thwum yet, but if you thtep into that hole you will have the pleathure of thwimming," warned tommy, for the guide had been edging closer and closer to the opening in the bridge floor. he drew back a step. the driver had recovered sufficiently to note the distressing condition of his horses. now he limped toward them. "they're goners!" he groaned. "i don't believe it," answered jane shortly. "they will be, if you don't do something. why don't you get them out?" "how can i?" moaned the poor fellow. jane started to speak, but a loud "hoo-e-e-e" from the far end of the bridge caused her to pause. the call was repeated. then they heard harriet running toward them. "look out for holes in the floor!" yelled crazy jane. "you can't tell anything about this perforated old bridge. come back here, tommy thompson!" tommy had started to run to meet harriet. margery grabbed and pulled her back. tommy jerked away angrily, but this time it was jane mccarthy who laid a firm grip on the little girl's arm. "you stay right here." jane lifted her voice in a prolonged call. harriet burrell answered in kind. a moment later harriet came running up to them, dripping from her unexpected plunge into the river. "was any one hurt? oh, i'm so glad!" as a quick glance told her that all of her companions were there. "oh, those poor horses!" "buthter thought thhe wath killed, but after i told her thhe wath all right, thhe felt better," observed tommy, with a sidelong glance at margery. "just as though i'd pay any attention to what you say," retorted margery, her chin in the air. "you talk entirely too much." "i'm so glad you weren't hurt, harriet," said hazel, "but i'm sorry you are so wet." the water was running in little rivulets from harriet's clothing. but her interest was centered not on herself but on the two men who were standing by the groaning horses, trying to decide what could be done to get the animals out. miss elting slipped an arm about harriet's waist. "how thankful i am that you are safe," whispered the guardian, kissing harriet impulsively. "the water was very cold," shivered harriet. "i really didn't know what had happened until i went in all over." "were you thrown directly through the opening?" questioned the guardian. "no. i think i fell on a horse first. i rolled off before i could get hold of anything to stop myself. then----" "then you fell in," finished tommy. "yes, i did, and with unpleasant force. fortunately, the water was deep and the current not very swift. but it was so dark that i couldn't see which way to swim. i found the direction of the shore by swimming across the current; otherwise i might have gone up or down stream, for i could distinguish nothing. i touched bottom just a little way from where i fell in. had i struck just a little way to the right i think i should have been killed. you girls are fortunate that you didn't fall through the bridge. was any of you hurt?" "yeth, jane lotht thome thkin from her nothe, but she can grow thome more, and it will thoon be better again." tommy's reply drew a smile from her companions, but they were all too much disturbed to feel like indulging in merriment. besides, there were the suffering horses. "may i make a suggestion?" asked harriet, releasing herself from miss elting's embrace. "somebody will have to make one pretty soon," declared janus, brushing a sleeve across his forehead. "what is it?" "i should think that if you were to place the ends of planks under the horses, we might pry them up a little, so that, one by one, you could shove other planks under them. in that way we might get enough planks down to enable the horses to get a foothold." "can't be done," answered the driver. "there will be no harm in trying," urged harriet. "it's a good idea," nodded janus, after having stroked his whiskers reflectively. janus always consulted his whiskers when in doubt, and among the graying hairs usually found that for which he sought. he was the first to go after a plank. the near horse was the one to feel the support of the plank as the guide worked it under one side of the animal. janus turned the end of the plank over to harriet burrell while he ran for another plank. this was repeated, the driver, after a time, taking part in the operation, until four planks had been worked in under the horse. "now, all work together," urged harriet. "mr. grubb, see if you and the driver can't get a couple of planks clear under the horse. if you can get the end of a plank on one of the beams you will have done something really worthwhile." miss elting, jane, hazel and harriet each were assigned to "man" the end of a plank. "now, all together! hee--o--hee!" shouted janus. a plank slid easily underneath the stomach of the near horse and came to rest on a beam. "hooray!" cheered the guide. "that's what comes of having a head on one's shoulders. young woman, you've got one. let him down a little. here, jim, you get some planks around under that other horse. we'll have them up, but we may break their legs in the final effort. i don't know. somebody will have to settle for the damage done here to-night." "the wagon is broken," margery informed them. "never mind the wagon. it's the horses we must save," answered miss elting. "we can't leave them to suffer." fifteen minutes of hard labor sufficed to raise the horses a little and to place them in greater comfort. the sharp edges of the beams no longer cut into the flesh, and their breathing was less labored. the party paused to rest from their efforts. "if we had some rope and pulleys we could get the animals out without much difficulty," reflected janus. "but how to do it now i don't know. i swum! i'm dead-beat." "can you lift?" questioned jane. "tolerable." "then why not pick up first one fore-foot, then another, and place them on the planks. you'll see what the horses will do then." janus scratched his head and fingered his beard. "i swum, jim!" he grinned, "let's try it." each man took hold of a fore-foot of each horse, and, without much difficulty, raised it to the planks before each animal. they were about to go after the other fore-foot when tommy, who had been standing back at a safe distance, attracted their attention by uttering a little cry. "oh, look! it ith growing light," she exclaimed. "daylight? why, it is getting light," cried margery. a faint glow was flickering at the end of the bridge, casting rays through the farther portion of the covered structure. the light was of a reddish tinge. at first, not realizing that the night was still young, the meadow-brook girls welcomed that light with shouts of approval. but there was something strange about the glow that caused miss elting, harriet and the men to gaze in open-mouthed wonder. as they gazed the glow seemed to grow stronger. then it flamed into a great glare of red. "fire! fire!" yelled jane mccarthy. "the bridge is on fire! run for your lives!" shouted the guide. "never mind the horses. run!" with one common impulse the girls and their guardian started toward the other end of the bridge, which was not more than twenty feet from them. margery uttered a scream of terror. jane grabbed her by one shoulder, giving her a violent shake. "don't make things any worse than they are. tell when you begin to burn, but don't make us think we are burning till the fire gets to us." "go on, girls," cried harriet. "i'm going back to the other end. we must think about saving our packs and our horses." unheeding their warning shouts, the girl ran back toward where janus and the driver were still engaged in trying to lift the horses. miss elting had followed harriet, and the two women now implored janus to hurry with the rescue of the animals. "it's no use!" he exclaimed angrily. "we can't do it before the fire gets to us. we are likely to lose our packs, too, unless we let these horses go and attend to them." "never mind the packs," said harriet stubbornly, as she laid a firm hand on one of the guide's arms. "we are going to save these poor animals. let us keep on trying, and i feel sure we can not fail. now, think hard. what is the quickest and best thing to be done?" chapter v on the burning bridge "we'll have to do our own thinking," then said jane mccarthy, who had come upon the scene at that moment. she glared at the guide and the driver, who stood staring dumbly at harriet. "we must save those helpless horses," repeated harriet, her eyes turning anxiously toward the two patient animals. "but you girls must not stay here too long," cautioned miss elting. suddenly crazy jane burst forth into a loud hurrah, and, running to the wagon, returned to the driver with a hand-saw. by this time margery, tommy and hazel had come cautiously back to where the horses were. "saw the timbers out from under the horses," advised jane. "it may hurt them to drop into the river, but it's better for them to drown than to be burned alive! move quickly, now!" "janus," muttered the driver, "we're a pair of mutton-heads!" "we are," agreed the guide, as he ran to get the other saw. the rasping of the saws began instantly, the meadow-brook girls moving closer to observe the work, casting frequent apprehensive glances over their shoulders at the thick cloud of smoke which issued from the farther end of the bridge. the fire did not appear to be making much headway, still it did not seem to be abating. already the framework of that end of the bridge was outlined like the figure in a set piece of fireworks. they could hear the crackling of the flames, and the wooden tunnel was becoming filled with smoke. tommy was coughing, to remind her companions that they were in need of other quarters. "i don't think i would cut the ends off," suggested harriet. "saw them nearly through, then cut the opposite ends. otherwise you may leave the animals dangling in the air with no means of helping them out." janus nodded approvingly at harriet's suggestion. "i reckon you're right," he agreed. "jim, tackle the other end. we'll let this near horse down first and see how he makes out. if it works, we'll drop the other fellow in the same way." a warning snapping sound was heard. "stand clear!" bellowed janus. the girls sprang back, and just in time. pieces of plank shot up into the air, one striking the bridge roof with a crash. then the near horse, with a neigh of fear, disappeared into the black water below them. they heard a loud splash. harriet, leaning over, peered into the river. "he's swimming. i can hear him," she cried joyously. "isn't that fine that you thought of that, mr. grubb?" she exclaimed, turning a flushed face to the guide. "huh! thought of it? i'd never thought of it if i'd kept my thinking machine going for a hundred years. now the other horse, jim. we'll have to step lively. them flames is getting too nigh for comfort. now you folks had better get out of here!" he commanded. "not yet," smiled harriet, "we still have work to do. we must get the things out of the wagon. if we lose them, we shall be in a fix." "mercy! i hadn't thought of that," cried the guardian. "but shall we have time to carry them across?" "the men will have to carry the heavier articles. i think we shall be able to manage it. come, help me get the things out of the carry-all." harriet ran to the wagon, followed closely by miss elting and margery. tommy alone held back. hazel and jane also hurried forward to assist. "all those who wish their suppers will have to work," cried harriet burrell. "we need a fire company more than thupper jutht now," retorted tommy thompson. "if we had a fire engine we could make thith fire look thick." harriet was in the carry-all passing out bundles and packs. she dropped a sack of cooking utensils to the floor of the bridge with a great clatter. "carry them to land," she directed tommy and hazel. "there goes the other horse," cried miss elting, as a crash and a great splash for the moment cut short their conversation. janus uttered a yell of triumph. "we got 'em both free!" he shouted. "that's what," agreed jim. "we'll pull the carry-all ashore next." "i am afraid we won't have time. the fire is almost too near for comfort now," said harriet. then she darted back to the carry-all to secure a blanket that she recalled had been laid over the back of the front seat of the vehicle, and which had been forgotten when removing the other things. reaching the wagon, she decided to take the cushions also. then harriet made a final search of the wagon to be sure that nothing of value had been left. the carry-all had been well stripped. the girl sprang out, casting a quick glance overhead, when she discovered, to her dismay, that the flames were already at work, they having rapidly eaten their way along the ridge of the bridge. "gracious! i must get out of here and without a moment's loss of time," she cried. "hurry!" bellowed the voice of the guide. "we haven't time to save the carry-all. get out from under. the bridge is going to fall." as harriet made a dash toward safety the burned end of the bridge fell. there was a rending noise as the weakened girders gave way under the weight of the bridge. a shower of sparks and flame shot into the air. miss elting, jane and the two men stood on shore, shouting with all their might to harriet burrell. but harriet did not hear their warning shouts, nor had she need of warning. she knew only too well what was occurring. suddenly the long bridge caved in and went down well past the middle with a tremendous crashing and snapping and roaring, sparks and flames shooting still higher than before, the burning timbers hissing and sending up a great cloud of steam as they fell into the river. miss elting, grown dizzy at thought of harriet, had stumbled and fallen. jane mccarthy quickly raised and dragged the guardian away. "harriet!" shouted miss elting. the frightened girls took up the cry, but there was no answer. harriet had gone down with the burning bridge. chapter vi their troubles multiply miss elting and jane mccarthy had climbed down the embankment, and, standing at the river's edge, scanned the water with pale faces and anxious eyes. dark shapes drifted past them, shapes that caused them to start apprehensively as they caught sight of them. nearly all of the bridge that had been on fire was now in the water. the structure had broken off short, taking most of the fire with it into the river. the broken end, still in the air, glowed here and there, the glowing spots fading and dying out one by one. of this the two women saw nothing. they were heavy with anxiety. it did not seem to them possible that harriet burrell could have escaped alive. janus and jim, who had run to the river bank, were now plunging here and there, stumbling, groping, wading or swimming about in the river to have a look at some bit of wreckage that resembled a human form. they believed that harriet had been swept down to her death with the burning bridge. all at once jane raised her voice in the cry of the meadow-brook girls. "hoo-e-e-e!" she called shrilly. but no answering cry from the missing girl relieved their suspense. "i'm afraid we can do no more," said miss elting with a catch in her voice. "oh, why did i leave her? why did i not insist on harriet's leaving that awful place with me?" "you couldn't help it," soothed jane. "but you mark me, miss elting, harriet is alive and sound, just like the rest of us. you leave it to harriet burrell to take care of herself. i tell you it's all right. hoo-e-e-e-e!" "don't! oh, don't!" begged the guardian. "why not? she'll hear me and she'll know which way to go when she comes up from the water," answered crazy jane breezily. she was putting on a brave show of cheerfulness, and somehow this cheerfulness began to take hold of miss elting. her shattered hopes began to rise; she began to take courage even against her better judgment, which told her that harriet could not possibly have escaped. even granting that she had, they would have seen or heard from her before this. janus stood dripping beside them. "now, you ladies go back. i'll do all the looking that's necessary. candidly, i don't think miss harriet escaped. she was caught when the old bridge fell down, but i'll keep on looking for her. i'll keep right on looking all the rest of the night." jane led miss elting up the bank despite the protests of the guardian that she did not wish to go, but preferred to remain where she was. "we can do nothing here," urged jane, more gently now. it was all that she could do to keep from breaking down and crying, but she knew she must keep up her courage. besides, she was still hoping, at times almost believing, that they would find harriet burrell awaiting them on shore. "didn't you find her?" cried hazel. they had climbed the steep bank and returned to the girls. neither woman answered. margery burst forth into a loud wail. tommy and hazel stood in blank, rigid silence. they could not believe that harriet was gone. miss elting sank down on a pack, while jane stood gazing moodily off over the sluggish river. janus came in a few moments behind the guardian and jane, his arms hanging limply at his sides, his chin lowered almost to his chest. "i'm afraid it isn't any use to look further," he said. the little party scarcely heard the guide. jim had gone on up the bank. they could hear him whistling and chirping to the missing horses to call them to him. then they caught the sound of a whinny and a moment later another. the animals had heard and recognized their master. jim captured and haltered them with the ropes that he had brought from the carry-all for the purpose. he then led the animals off to one side, where he secured them to trees. the driver then walked slowly along the bank to join the others of the party. suddenly jane mccarthy cried out sharply, "who's that?" a series of little splashes had been heard out in the river; then, out of the gloom, grew the dim outlines of a moving figure. "who is it?" cried miss elting, scarcely daring to trust her voice. "it is i. what is all the excitement about?" called a familiar voice. "harriet!" a chorus of screams greeted miss elting's cry. four girls and their guardian, regardless of the wetting they were receiving, rushed helter-skelter into the river, throwing themselves upon the staggering harriet. they snatched her up, carrying her ashore despite her struggles and protests. they laid her down on the packs, each trying to do something for their companion whom they had believed to be lost. "for goodness' sake! what is the matter?" demanded harriet, sitting up. "lie still, dear," urged miss elting. "you will be all right in a few moments." "all right? there is nothing the matter with me, except that i'm wet and cold." harriet got up and shook herself, gazing anxiously at her companions. "what is it, girls? tell me!" "oh, harriet, don't you know?" breathed hazel. "no, i don't. you are all here, aren't you?" she demanded, with a quick glance about her. "yes, now we are," nodded the guardian. "don't you understand? we thought you had gone down with the bridge." "well, i did go down, but not with the bridge. what of it?" "we thought you were dead," continued miss elting, her voice shaking. harriet looked from one to the other of her friends. "why, you poor dears, no wonder you looked so woe-begone. now that it is all over, i don't blame you for thinking so." "well, i swum!" muttered janus, combing out his whiskers with the spread fingers of his right hand. "so did i," laughed harriet. "that's why i'm here." "tell us how you escaped. can't you see, we are hardly able to believe that it is really you?" was miss elting's excited reply. "it's myself, and no other, as jane would say. after you had left me i ran back to the wagon to get the blanket and cushions we had left there. i knew the fire was near me, but i thought i had time enough to get away from it. suddenly i felt the bridge giving way. i was close to the opening into which the horses fell when things began to happen, and i made a long, desperate dive into the river, hoping to get out from under the bridge before it fell on me. i remember seeing a great shower of sparks falling around me as i shot through the air. i wondered if it were the bridge that was falling with me. then i struck the water. i swam under the water with the current as fast as i could, then when i thought i had gone far enough, to make it safe to rise, i did so. i don't recall what happened after that. i must have been hit by something, or else bumped into a timber when i rose to the surface. it is a wonder i wasn't drowned. when i came to my senses i was slowly drifting down stream, clinging to a piece of charred plank. i know it was charred because i could smell it. you know how wet, burnt wood smells? this piece of plank smelled that way." "nithe, appetizing odor," nodded tommy. "yeth? go on." "i did not know where i was, but i knew i was drifting downstream. i kicked until i had headed the plank at right angles to the shore, and remained on the plank until my feet touched bottom; then i got up and began plodding along upstream, knowing that, sooner or later, i should find some of you folks. i heard someone call. was it you, jane?" "it was myself and no other," replied jane "i thought it was you. i was out of breath, so i didn't try to make you hear me." "well, i swum!" ejaculated grubb under his breath. "i never expected to see her again." "what of the horses?" "got 'em," answered the driver tersely, "carry-all gone to the everlasting bow-wows. what now?" "if the ladies want to go on, we will load the stuff onto the horses and tote them that way to the place i had already picked out for a camp." "how far is it?" questioned miss elting. "oh, a mile farther on, i should say." "i fear it would not be wise to go on just now. i think it would be better for us to make temporary camp somewhere hereabouts. we are completely exhausted. harriet must have a change of clothing and we all need something warm to drink and eat. do you know of a good place to make camp for a little while?" "back about a quarter of a mile is a grove. there's a creek running through it. that will be a good camping place." "please have the driver assist you in getting the equipment there. don't lose any time. harriet, are you cold?" harriet shook her head. "i'm going to help carry the stuff to our camp. then i shall be sure of keeping warm. come on, girls. where are the bedding packs?" "down there by the tree, miss," replied jim. harriet ran to the tree. "i don't find them," she called a moment later. jim harried to her. he was mystified to discover that the packs were not where he had left them. "you didn't throw them in the river, did you, jim?" questioned harriet. he declared vehemently that he had not; that he had placed them well back from the water, and that they could not possibly have rolled into the river. jim announced that he was going down the shore to look for them, just the same. this he did, starting away at a trot. wonderingly, and somewhat disturbed, for the bedding and the clothing packs contained articles that could not be done without, the girls instituted a search of their own, but found nothing. the loss of the packs meant their return to town to purchase more supplies. no one wished to do that, in the first place; and, in the second place, they needed warm, dry bedding and dry clothing for use that night. while jim was in search of the missing equipment the girls went to work and collected the scattered contents of some of the packs. suddenly there came a long-drawn shout from down shore. "i've got 'em!" "i thought so," nodded miss elting. jim came back lugging a pack soon thereafter. the water was running from the pack, under whose weight the driver was staggering. "found them in the river," he explained. "had drifted into a cove. so heavy i couldn't carry more than one at a time. the other packs are open and the stuff spread all over the cove. i gathered it up as well as i could. you'll have to give me a rope to tie the things up, or else bring them back in wads." "in the river?" cried the girls in chorus. "well, i swum!" muttered janus, pausing from his labors long enough to consult his whiskers. "things are moving kind of fast." "oh, this is nothing, nothing at all," laughed crazy jane. "you will think things are moving after you have been out with the meadow-brook girls for a time. things always do move when we are around. look out that they don't move so fast as to sweep you with them. my! but this is a heavy pack." the girls had taken the wet pack from jim and were dragging it up the bluff. janus tied this and two other packs on the back of one horse, then began making ready for doing the game with the other animal. by the time he was ready, jim had returned with still another wet bundle of equipment. "our clotheth are in that pack!" wailed tommy, as she surveyed the bedraggled outfit. "what thhall we do?" "keep quiet and go on up to camp," said margery severely. "come, come, girls!" urged miss elting, a little irritated. she had not yet quite recovered from the shock of harriet's disaster. how great a shock this had been her charges had not fully realized. the heaviest packs were soon loaded on the horses, after which janus, leading one animal, went ahead to pilot them to the spot chosen for a temporary camp. nearly half an hour was consumed in finding their way there. the night was dark and many obstacles in the shape of rocks and fallen trees and stumps were found in their path, and the guide's call that they had arrived was the most welcome information the girls had received in all that eventful day's journey. "here, jim, unload these packs while i gather the wood for a fire, so that we can see what we are doing." "fire!" scoffed jim. "little fire you will see to-night, unless you have some matches. i haven't any. it was a bad job when i took this contract." "never mind expressing opinions. i'm responsible for making a fire, and nobody is responsible for what's happened to us on the way out here. it is just one of those unforeseen disturbances that come to the best regulated families," said janus testily. "i think i can find some wood for the fire," suggested harriet. "i just stumbled over a dry stick. here it is. is there any birch bark here, mr. grubb?" "no, but i'll fire some leaves. i've got plenty of matches," he confided to harriet. "i didn't tell jim. it isn't necessary for these fellows to know too much, you know." "just between ourselves," chuckled harriet under her breath. "sure. i've got a daughter just your age, and she's almost as good a campaigner as you are, though i reckon this night's doings would have been too much for her. you don't find many such as you and your outfit." having expressed his opinion, janus proceeded to his work, and a moment later had a quantity of dry leaves ablaze. "now fetch on your wood. who says jan grubb can't build a fire when there isn't anything to build with?" he boasted. "easy. not so much at a time. you'll press it down to the ground so the draft can't get under it, and then your nice little fire will go out. we'll build a roarer, then we can start a smaller one for cooking." "i won't be sorry to eat a square meal," chuckled jane. "nor i," agreed margery, "i haven't eaten a square meal for ages." "be careful, girls. don't stand so close to the fire. you will burn your skirts," warned miss elting. "you will have holes in them almost before you realize it." harriet had left that fire and was laying another. she called to jane to get the supper things ready for cooking. "margery, you and hazel set the table. if you can't find a dry blanket, simply clear away a place on the ground. we shan't be so particular about our table this evening." "what about it? do we stay here all night, or are we to go on?" asked the guide. "i think we had better make camp for the night," decided miss elting. "i reckon it would be a good idea. i'll make a line and dry out the stuff. it's pretty wet," decided the guide. janus drove some stakes that he had cut down. then, stringing a rope between them, the two proceeded to hang up the wet bedding, which consisted solely of soft, gray army blankets. he took the wet clothing of the girls from the packs, hanging this on the line also, and a few moments later the blankets and the garments were steaming. so was the coffee pot. bacon was the only other food put over for cooking. the travelers were too hungry to care to wait long for their supper. it was not long after harriet and jane had begun cooking the bacon before they sounded the supper call. no one was late for supper that night, and each sat down tired and travel-stained, but there was not a word of complaint from either men or girls. they made merry over the meal, made light of their misfortunes, and altogether enjoyed themselves fully as well as if their circumstances had been different. "what i should like to know is how those things got in the river?" demanded janus as the meal neared a close. for a moment no one spoke. the guide's question was one which no member of the little party was prepared to answer. so many unpleasant events had occurred in such rapid succession that it was difficult to place the cause of this latest disaster. chapter vii horses give the alarm "will you tell me where you placed the first packs when you came ashore with them?" asked harriet, turning to the driver. "right against the rocks." "and behind that large boulder?" "yes. how did you know?" "oh, i saw where you threw the first pack down. it left the mark of the rope in the soft dirt," explained the girl. "i am not gifted with second sight, but i did see that. what i started to say was that i know how the packs got in the river." "you know?" asked miss elting. "yes. they were thrown in." for a few impressive seconds no one spoke. janus combed his whiskers with the fingers of one hand. jim, the driver, sprang to his feet, his face crimson with anger. "i won't stand for that. why should i throw the old stuff in the river?" he demanded indignantly. "i beg your pardon. i did not accuse you of it," said harriet. "i know you did not. it was some other person who threw the packs into the river." they gazed at her in amazement. "harriet, what _do_ you mean?" cried the guardian. "if she had lived up here two hundred years ago or so the people would have tied her to a stake and set fire to her," declared janus, punctuating his declaration with a series of quick, emphatic nods. "the driver placed the pack behind the boulder and against the rocks," said harriet. "surely, he knew where he left the things. what is more, i looked while he had gone in search of them, and, as i've already said, saw where he had left the pack. the rest was easy to understand. the packs could not possibly have got into the river unless they had been thrown there." "but who----" began jim. "i don't know. that it was none of our party goes without saying. perhaps mr. grubb can tell us. who do you think it could have been, sir?" she asked, turning to the guide. "i swum! i swum!" muttered the guide. "it isn't possible!" exploded jim. "i reckon miss--miss burrell is right, jim," agreed the guide. "either you threw the stuff in, or somebody else did, and we know you didn't, so what's the answer? the young lady has given us the answer, and there you are." "i'm sorry," pondered miss elting. "i was in hopes this journey would be free from unpleasantness, but here we are meeting with difficulties at the very start of it. have you any enemies who would wish to do you harm, mr. grubb?" "no, no, no! nothing like that, miss." "do you know a man named collins?" "collins? never heard of him. who is he?" "i don't know. i will tell you something that you do not know, either. the night we arrived at compton a man called on me at the hotel to ask me to discharge you and let him act as our guide instead. he said he needed the money. he also said we would be sorry for having taken you as our guide; that we would get into no end of trouble were we to go with you. he intimated a great deal more than he put into words. it was plain that he disliked you very much. he made a distinctly unfavorable impression upon me. harriet saw him, too, just as he was taking his leave." "well, i swum!" janus was tugging nervously at his whiskers. there were beads of perspiration on his forehead. his lips moved rapidly, but he uttered no further words for some moments. "you may go out in the woodth and thay it, if you want to," suggested tommy, who had been regarding the guide shrewdly. every one laughed. it was so plain that janus _did_ want to say things, yet restrained himself because of his position and the party he was conducting. "forget it!" he exploded. "i haven't any enemies. nobody but a crazy man would try to interfere with janus grubb. they know me. why, there isn't a man in the state who wouldn't swear by me. if you think i'm not dependable, that----" "no, mr. grubb," hastily interposed miss elting. "please do not misunderstand me. we are quite satisfied with you, but i hope you will be cautious. it is plain that you _have_ an enemy, and, what is more, i am positive that i have talked with that man, and that we had better proceed with caution." "i'll take care of the rascal, once i set eyes on him," growled the guide. "what-for-looking man was he?" miss elting described her caller, harriet adding a few words with reference to the peculiar hitch of collins's shoulders as he walked. janus eyed the guardian with a worried look. his fingers opened and closed nervously. he gulped, then turned to her. "perhaps i'd better not go on with you. i'll get some one else to take you through the mountains. i----" "no, mr. grubb. you will go on with us," insisted miss elting. "we are not afraid. we are quite used to taking care of ourselves, but i wished to impress upon you the advisability of being on your guard. if you have an enemy who intends to do you harm, naturally we shall be likely to suffer with you. for that reason i urge caution. another thing about which i should like to speak is the burning of the bridge this evening." janus braced himself. it was as if he looked for an inquiry on this subject, but had been hoping to avoid it. "yes?" "i wish some one would explain how the bridge happened to catch fire," urged the guardian. "so do i," he admitted, still consulting his abundant whiskers. "what do you think?" "i think some one set it on fire," declared jane explosively. "i'd like to meet the villain on the broad highway, some time when i have my car!" "yes, it was set on fire," agreed hazel, nodding reflectively. "i thought so at the time. since thinking over the matter further i am more positive of it than ever. it was an awful thing to do." "the person must have known that we could get away," suggested harriet. "i believe it was done to spite mr. grubb." "to spite me!" shouted janus. "what do you mean?" "i believe the planks were taken up so that you couldn't get across the bridge with your horses and wagon. i think whoever did it wished to make you lose your horses and carry-all as well as our stuff. if it was our mysterious enemy, then he knew that we could escape. but how can you get back with your horses?" "there's another bridge five miles above here. i'll go that way in the morning. i'll ride one of the horses and lead the other one." harriet rose and piled more wood on the campfire. she then began laying out the sections of their tent, which she laced together. janus stepped over to her. "you sit down, miss. we will do that," he insisted. jim was sent out to cut some poles for the tent, janus in the meantime smoothing off a space on the ground on which to pitch the tent. the canvas was still quite wet. examination of the blankets showed that these had not yet dried out sufficiently to make them fit for use. "i guess you'll have to sit up and wait for the things to dry out," declared the guide. he was troubled over what had happened as well as what had been said that evening. janus, too, was still thinking of the description given him of miss elting's caller. he thought he knew whom that description fitted, all except the beard. it was the beard that spoiled the picture he had in mind. he pondered over this all during the time he was working on the tent, pausing now and then to stroke his own beard. "don't worry about it. we are not afraid," said a soothing voice at his side. he glanced around to find harriet burrell's brown eyes smiling up at him. "eh? what?" "i said don't worry. we aren't afraid." "thank you, miss. you are the right sort. yes, we'll take care of the gentleman, if it should prove to be some one trying to do us harm." "you know who it is?" janus shook his head. "you think you know?" again the guide shook his head dubiously. "i might, but i don't," he replied somewhat ambiguously. "it isn't the party i had in mind. he isn't around these parts now. jim is going to see the sheriff when he gets back to compton and have the officer look into this bridge affair. i was a deputy sheriff in the county once. the present sheriff will do anything for me. besides, this is a matter he's bound to look into, anyway. here, jim, get hold of that end-pole." harriet sprang to the other end and raised the pole, setting the lower end firmly on the ground, motioning to jane to make fast the side wall on one side. hazel also ran around to the other side, margery to an end, then, for a few moments, the meadow-brook girls gave an exhibition of their skill in pitching a tent, while janus and jim stood back in open-mouthed wonder. "there!" exclaimed harriet, flushed of face, eyes sparkling, "that is the way we make camp." "well, i swum!" muttered janus. "it beats all." jane turned the blankets on the line. by this time the clothing in the packs was fairly well dried, but it looked wrinkled and old. harriet now began digging a trench around the sides of the tent, so they should not be flooded in case of rain. janus took the pick from her, completing the job. the meadow-brook girls moved rather rapidly for the slow-going janus. he was unused to such activity, especially in women. margery and tommy were busy clearing away the supper things. jim went out to bring the horses in nearer to camp, where he tied them up for the night. at janus's direction the driver also made a bed for the two men out among the trees some distance from the tent that was to be occupied by miss elting and her charges. the preparations for the night went on with rather more confusion than usual, the party having been more or less upset by the occurrences of the evening; beside which, they had not yet become familiar with the routine that marked the well-ordered camp. "there isn't a dry piece of cloth in the place," complained margery, after examining the line of blankets and clothing. "what are we going to do?" "sit up until the blankets, at least, have dried out," answered jane. "they are nearly dry now. see! harriet is doing something to them. what are you trying to do, darlin'?" "spread out some blankets on the ground and i'll show you," answered harriet laughingly. "it is an indian trick i learned a long time ago." the girl had placed some large, round stones in the fire, heating them to a point that caused them to sizzle when a drop of water came in contact with them. poking three of these heated stones from the fire harriet rolled them in one of the gray army blankets. she did the same with other blankets; then, passing from one to another, watched closely for the odor of burning cloth. only one blanket had to be opened to permit the stones to cool off a little. for a full half hour these heated stones were permitted to remain in the blankets. then, upon unrolling, the blankets were found to be dry and warm and ready for use for the night. "well, i swum!" observed the guide, "you've taught me something. say, what do you young women need of a guide? you know more about camping than any guide in the state." "oh, we have plenty to learn," answered harriet brightly, busying herself in placing the blankets in the tent, jane, in the meantime, being engaged in fitting the flap to the opening. the other girls were standing about, sleepily rubbing their eyes, for it was now midnight, and they were weary both from the physical exertions of the day and night, as well as because of the many hours that had elapsed since they left their beds shortly after daylight. "is there anything more we can do for you?" risked janus, with added respect. "nothing more, thank you," returned miss elting. "you two had better turn in now. good-night." janus fixed the fire, then walked briskly away. in their tent the girls had begun undressing before this. fortunately their kimonos had not been soaked, and after being warmed at the fire by harriet the loose gowns felt decidedly comfortable. no time was lost in rolling in their blankets, which had been spread on the ground. for pillows inflated rubber bags were used. no one complained of the hardness of their beds, the little company was too sleepy. silence soon settled over the camp, and the meadow-brook girls slept peacefully. two hours had elapsed when they were awakened by a commotion somewhere outside. the shrill neighs of the horses sounded the first alarm, followed by what seemed to be a fall, a whinny, then the rapid beating of hoofs. harriet struggled to get out of her blanket, in which she had wound herself tightly. the tent was in darkness. she decided that the campfire had gone out. for a moment she had to think hard to recall where she was. before she had untangled herself, the others of the party were struggling to free themselves from their blankets. "what is it?" cried margery in terror. "stay where you are! i don't know. something is wrong out there," answered harriet, hurriedly pulling on her skirt. "dress yourselves. we don't know what--oh, look out!" something struck the tent a terrific blow, followed by a series of snorts and squeals. the tent began to waver. "it's falling!" cried miss elting warningly. "get to the other side," shouted harriet burrell, herself leaping to the right-hand side of the tent in a single bound. her companions fell, rather than sprang, aside. they were none too soon as it was, for the tent swayed, then lurched to the right, collapsing over the heads of the meadow-brook girls amid the continued snorts of horses near at hand, accompanied by the sound of beating hoofs and the shouts of the two men at the other side of the camp. chapter viii crazy jane's "find" tommy, having been unable to free herself from her blanket, had rolled over and over until she reached the opposite side of the tent. margery brown, not having got out of the way, had been hit on the head by a tent-pole, which knocked her down and so dazed her for the moment that she lay whimpering where she had fallen. of this harriet and miss elting were unaware. their efforts were directed toward getting out of the tent to learn what had occurred. they could hear the canvas ripping; and the noise of the floundering hordes just outside was still going on. together the two women fought their way out from under the canvas. "catch 'em! catch 'em!" jim was yelling at the top of his voice. "the horses are getting away!" "yes, and they have taken a good part of the tent with them," called harriet. the men had halted, not knowing whether they should proceed or not. "come on! come on!" cried miss elting. she could not see the horses, but she could hear them crashing through the bushes whinnying in terror. there was something sinister in this sudden outbreak, something that neither miss elting nor harriet burrell understood. jane, having crawled from beneath the overturned tent, came running to them. "what a mess!" she cried in dismay. "i feel as though i had been in a railroad wreck. what was it?" "the horses," answered harriet. "is that all? didn't anything fall on us?" "i think we had a narrow escape from being trampled by the horses." the guide came running to them. "was any one hurt? what, the tent down?" "yes. the animals ran into it and tore it down," replied the guardian. "i don't understand it at all. do you, mr. grubb?" "i swum, i don't!" he exploded. "run into the tent? why should they do that?" "they must have been terribly frightened," averred jane mccarthy. "now, what could have frightened a pair of horses enough to make them so blind they couldn't see a tent? will you tell me that?" the guide kicked the embers of the campfire, and piled on some light wood. at this juncture hazel came out, leading margery, who had both hands pressed to her head. "something fell on her head," explained hazel. miss elting took margery to the fire and made her sit down. margery had no need to be urged. she sat down, all in a heap, and would have toppled over had not the guardian held her up. a lump as large as a horse chestnut had risen on the stout girl's head. "oh, my dear! you did get a bump, didn't you?" cried the guardian. "sit right where you are. i will bring some liniment. fortunately, the skin is not broken. mr. grubb, won't you please see what you can do with the tent? i fear it is seriously damaged." "i want to look at those halters, first, if you can wait a minute." miss elting nodded, then hurried to the collapsed tent, under which she burrowed and groped about in the dark in search of her medicine kit, which she finally found and brought to the fireside. margery's swollen head was treated until the soreness had become eased a little. harriet and jane supported her to a blanket that they had brought from the tent, and, after tucking her in, left the unfortunate margery to doze and rest. tommy crept over and kissed her on the forehead. "i'm tho thorry, buthter," she whispered sympathetically. "i withh it might have been me who got the bump on the head. but never mind; you will be better pretty thoon. don't you think tho?" margery's answer was a moan. tommy crept away with a troubled look in her eyes. "the horses broke their halters," janus was saying as tommy joined her companions. "can't understand what skeered them into doing that. jim must be having a chase, or he'd have been back before this. want to quit?" "certainly not," answered miss elting with emphasis. "but we should like to know what it means." "might have been a bird or something. doesn't take much to startle a horse when he's asleep. i've known a partridge to fly up before a sleeping horse and cause the animal to break away and rip things up generally. you'll find, if you find at all, that it was something like this skeered jim's nags." "i gueth it wath a two-legged bird," observe tommy wisely. "that would be strange, indeed," answered miss elting. "how many legs do birds ordinarily have?" tommy flushed. "that ith tho. i wath thinking a bird had four legs, jutht like a table." margery groaned. "oh! are you feeling badly again, dear?" called miss elting. "yes." "what is it? does your head pain you?" questioned the guardian. "no, it's tommy. she gives me a pain." "tommy, come help us put up the tent," urged harriet. "maybe it will fall on your head next. that will make margery feel well again, won't it, dearie?" margery, in a weak voice, agreed that it would. tommy retorted that she didn't care if it did. the tent was found to have been quite badly torn. the hoofs of the horses had left great rents in it. after examining the canvas it was decided not to try to repair it that night, but to leave it as it was until morning, when the girls would be better able to see what they were doing. they had once more raised the tent, having been obliged to cut one new pole, when jim returned leading the horses. they were very nervous and kept tossing their heads, rearing and plunging at the slightest unusual sound. "something wrong with them. i don't know what it is," he said, in answer to the guide's glance of inquiry. "lead 'em up here. well, i swum!" "wha--at is it?" demanded margery, sitting up. "look at that, will ye?" the girls got as close to the animals as was prudent. janus parted the hair on the hip of one horse and pointed to a small wound. the other horse bore a similar wound. "oh, they have hurt themselves. isn't it too bad?" sympathized hazel. "hurt themselves!" exploded the guide. "those wounds were made with some sharp instrument, maybe a knife. i don't know. now, can you blame them for running away and taking the tent down? this business is moving too fast! what are we going to do?" "you are the guide, sir. you are the responsible head of the party," replied miss elting. "i thought i was, too. but, i swum! i don't know which from t'other any more. jim, what do you think about that?" pointing a finger at the horses and indicating their wounded hips. "did they get them themselves, or did somebody do it to them? i can't make up my mind." "some one did it, jan. the hosses never did that themselves." "but how could they?" "maybe tied a knife to a long stick. didn't mean to do any serious work or would have cut deeper. just went through the skin, that's all, but enough to set the critters crazy. see any one about these parts?" questioned the driver, turning to the girls. "no, sir. we were under the tent. we saw nothing," answered harriet. "i think it must have been the squealing of the horses that awakened us. the next we knew we were being trampled on and the tent was down about our ears. have you looked about here carefully, mr. grubb?" "for what?" returned janus quickly. "for thpookth," tommy replied pertly. "pshaw!" "i mean have you looked where the horses were tied," explained harriet. "you did examine the halters. you say they were broken, not cut. i think we should look further." "yes. i agree with harriet that we ought to make a careful search of the ground about the camp," said miss elting. "we cannot afford to miss opportunities that might solve this mystery. i wish you and the driver would make a start," she urged. "all right. where's the lantern?" demanded janus. "it went down with the bridge," harriet informed him. "we have another, a smaller one, but i hardly think it will be of much use for our purpose. i'll tell you what. why not use some of the dry pitch pine roots that you gathered?" suggested harriet. "they are ready to burn and will make excellent torches. we have plenty of kindling wood without them." "an excellent idea," approved the guardian. janus glanced at jim and nodded. "i told you so," chuckled the guide. "i knew she could suggest something." janus gathered up some roots, whittling one end of each stick into a sunflower-like bunch of shavings. these ends he lighted, whereat the torches flared up into flickering, smoking flames. the guide led the way, followed by the entire meadow-brook party, margery brown having become so interested as to forget her troubles for the moment, though the lump on her head was still large and painful. just before reaching the trees where the horses had been tied, miss elting suggested that all save the guide and harriet stop where they were. "if so many of us go forward we shall not only be likely to miss any clues there are, but perhaps destroy them altogether. i have an idea that we are going to find something that will enlighten us," she added. "that's good, common sense," agreed the guide, nodding his approval. "is there anything you wish us to do, mr. grubb?" asked miss elting. "little brownie is the pilot," replied janus jocularly, waving a hand in harriet burrell's direction. "whatever she suggests, we will do. we can't do any better than to follow her lead." harriet's cheeks flushed. she had taken a torch and began slowly to circle the trees to which the horses had been tied upon arriving at the camp site. at first her circle was a wide one, janus following her example by beginning well out beyond the trees. harriet's smoking torch was held close to the ground, sweeping from side to side, the torch bearer assuming a crouching position with head well lowered, body bent almost double. "look out!" shouted tommy, as harriet came abreast of her party. "wha--at?" harriet straightened up sharply. "what is it!" "you will burn your nothe, if you don't look out." "oh, tommy!" harriet laughed merrily. "is that all?" "i was thinking the same thing," chuckled the guide. "wish i could bend over like that. but don't bother us, little one. this is our busy night, and right serious business it is, too." the laughter disappeared from his face and janus bent low to his task. the others of the party had either seated themselves on the ground or leaned against trees. they chatted while the guide and harriet burrell sought for the true trail, but it was not very encouraging work. the two torches flickered and smoked weirdly, now and then becoming mere glows like distant lamps in a fog, as the bearer slipped behind a tree or was masked by an intervening growth of bushes whose foliage was very thick and dense. "oh, mr. grubb, who of our party has brass-headed tacks in his boot heels?" called harriet. "i have. why?" "i found a heel mark that gave me that impression," answered harriet laughingly. "well, i swum!" "it was a guess about their being brass-headed, though," she admitted. "you would have made a prize sheriff, little brownie," declared the guide, gazing at her admiringly. "if i'd had you to nose the trail when i was after red tacy and charlie valdes it wouldn't have taken me a matter of two months to get them." "who are they?" "a couple of outlaws who turned things upside down in these hills some years ago. but i got them both. they are serving terms up at concord now. find anything?" "no, sir." the circles were steadily narrowing, though the man and the girl were working slowly and deliberately, really covering the ground by inches, so thorough was their search for clues of the supposed night visitors. no spot of the size of a hand escaped the keen scrutiny of one or the other of them. they could not have answered had they been asked what particular thing they had hoped to find, but in some vague way each felt that a clue to the mystery would be turned up as a result of their search. if a person had stolen into camp under cover of the night, wounding and stampeding the horses, it was probable that footprints or other evidences of his presence had been left behind, a tell-tale clue to the recent visitor. as yet, not a single trace had been found by the searchers. they continued with their work until they finally brought up facing each other in front of the trees to which the broken ends of the halters were still tied. harriet glanced up into the perplexed face of the guide and laughed. janus gave back a glum look and muttered, "i swum!" "have you two sleuths finished your work?" called crazy jane. "it certainly looks as though we had," replied harriet. "what do you think, mr. grubb?" "i reckon we're beaten." "yes. we haven't found a clue of any consequence. perhaps we have imagined too much, but i do not think so." "give me a torch; it's my turn now. let's see what crazy jane can find," said jane mccarthy. "my grandfather was the champion shamrock hunter of the emerald isle, and my dad says i'm a pocket edition of my grandfather. just watch me while i show you a few things." harriet handed her torch to jane, and, walking over, sat down by miss elting. "did you really fail for once, harriet?" questioned the guardian in a teasing voice. she understood harriet's peculiarities, knowing that the girl was not given to talking when there was real or fancied reason why she should not. "i should say i did; that is, i did not discover anything that i could feel certain about. but some one has been here. there was just one footprint in a bit of soft dirt, but some one had most provokingly stepped on it, nearly obliterating it. from what i could make out of the original footprint it wasn't made by any of our party. that is all i found, but enough to verify our suspicions. where is jane going?" jane mccarthy was moving away from camp, apparently following the trail made by the party when they came up from the river to make camp among the trees. "that's a good idea, too," she added approvingly, instantly catching the significance of jane's action. "i never thought of trying it." "i don't know just what you mean, but anything not thought of by you i shouldn't consider worth bothering about." miss elting laughed softly, patting the brown head beside her. "there! she is returning, and empty-handed like yourself, i'll warrant." "do not be too certain of that. on the contrary, jane has discovered something." "why do you think that?" "i can tell by the swing of her shoulders. miss elting, crazy jane has beaten us all; you see if she hasn't. hoo-e-e-e!" "jane! oh, jane! did you find something?" cried tommy, in a shrill, high-pitched voice that margery declared might have been heard a mile away. "what did you find?" "did i find thomething?" mimicked jane. "does crazy jane mccarthy ever fail to get what she goes after? yes, i did find something; something, too, that will make you girls open your eyes. and you too, mr. grubb! sh-h-! not a word," she warned dramatically. "come over by the campfire, where we can see, and i'll show you all----" "thomething," finished tommy thompson. "yes, 'thomething,'" answered jane with a nod, then hurried toward the camp. her companions raced after her, janus grubb bringing up the rear in long strides, the fingers of one hand clutched in his abundant whiskers. jim stood gazing after them, his underjaw drooping. jim hadn't yet quite come to an understanding of this most unusual company. he stood there wondering until the girls had passed out of his sight, after which the driver, with hands thrust deep in his pockets, walked slowly campward, trying to make up his mind what had happened. chapter ix scaling the high cliffs "sit down, darlin's," commanded jane, after the eager girls had reached their campfire. "sit down and make yourselves comfortable." "for goodness' sake, tell us!" exclaimed margery. "can't you see we are all just perishing with curiosity?" "yeth. i'm motht thuffocated from holding my breath," declared tommy. "but buthter ith thuffocated hecauthe she ith tho fat. don't you think it ith awful to be tho fat, mr. januth?" she gazed, in apparent unblinking innocence, at the solemn-faced guide, who answered with twinkling eyes. "i dunno, miss. i never was fat. never had time to eat enough to make me fat." "that ith too bad," answered tommy sympathetically. "come, come, jane, don't keep us in suspense. what did you find, or didn't you find anything at all?" urged miss elting. "don't worry. i made a find, but you never could guess, if you lived a thousand years, what i found. i couldn't have guessed it either. nor could harriet, as sharp as she is. now, listen, darlin's. i found--i found--oh, if you knew how funny you all look! i found an old pair of specs--spectacles. i fooled you that time, didn't i?" she chuckled, hugging herself delightedly. "you thought it was something wonderful." "oh, fudge!" said margery disgustedly. "i might have known you weren't in earnest." "i call that real mean of you, jane," pouted hazel holland. miss elting laughed tolerantly, nodding at harriet as though to say, "i told you so." but harriet's gaze was fixed on crazy jane's face. harriet knew very well that there was something more to be said; that jane really had made an important discovery, and that, after having teased her companions to her satisfaction, she would tell them the rest of the story. "spectacles were made to assist people in seeing. suppose you let us see, jane," suggested harriet. "now, now, bright eyes, don't be hasty," chided jane. "do you really wish to see?" harriet yawned as though completely indifferent. "i am not so curious over your discovery that i cannot wait until morning to hear about it. i'm sleepy and i am going to bed, provided i can find one," she replied, rising and stretching herself indolently. "good night, jane." "wait!" jane knew that harriet meant exactly what she said. she knew that it was time to stop trifling and to explain. "if you must see them, here they are." she drew the "specs" from a pocket in her skirt, holding them at arm's-length suspended from a string that the wearer had fastened to them to keep the glasses over his eyes. harriet and miss elting uttered an "oh!" "i thought you would say something when you saw them," chuckled jane. her face was flushed; her eyes sparkled triumphantly. "huh! goggles!" grunted janus. "you have guessed it the first time," cried jane. "green goggles! do you see that, girls?" cried harriet excitedly. [illustration: "green goggles!" cried harriet excitedly.] "they are, indeed," breathed the guardian. "well, i swum! where'd you find them?" questioned the guide, interested, but failing to catch the real significance of jane mccarthy's discovery. "oh-h-h-h!" chorused the meadow-brook girls. "and i believe they are the very same," declared harriet, nodding thoughtfully over the goggles, which she had taken from jane's hand. "you certainly have made a find. i think we are beginning to understand, miss elting." "yes. mr. grubb does not, though." "some one dropped them; i understand that well enough. but the spectacles themselves don't tell us who the fellow is by a long shot. i know you ladies have discovered something about the 'specs' and i'd like pretty well to hear what it is." "you are wrong in one way, mr. grubb. these goggles do tell us who dropped them, if our surmises are correct." "you don't say?" "yes. do you recall the little experience we had on the station platform at compton on the evening of our arrival?" "you mean about the fellow who tried to make you believe he was i?" "yes. but perhaps you have forgotten our telling you that the man wore goggles?" "well, i swum!" janus stroked his whiskers nervously. "yeth. tho did harriet. and thhe got wet," observed tommy flippantly. "later on that same evening," continued miss elting, "we saw the man again on the porch at the post-office. you remember how you and harriet hurried down the steps after him. as he stood with his back to the window she had discovered that the goggles were green. these may or may not be the identical goggles, but i believe they are." "i haven't the least doubt of it," interjected harriet. "these have a white cord on them, as you can see. so did those worn by the man that night." "i saw the fellow you mean," interposed jim. "i wondered who he was. i was at the station to see if your party had come in. this fellow was keeping out of sight a good deal, but i plainly saw the specs on him. then i didn't see him any more. he must have hit the trail up the mountain." "well, i swum!" repeated janus. "i think you ought to compel the authorities to do something when you get back to compton," said the guardian. "i believe this man of the goggles is determined to wreak vengeance on us, and for some reason that we know nothing about." "i have it!" cried harriet excitedly. "now i know who that man who called on you reminded me of. collins was the man of the green goggles. oh, why didn't i think of it before?" "but mr. collins wore a beard; the other man did not," objected miss elting. "i can't help it. they were one and the same. does that help you any, mr. grubb?" the guide shook his head. "tell them all about it when you get back, jim. the sheriff'll run the fellow down. i shouldn't be surprised if the sheriff came out here. you tell him where we are going. you better get started now. no need to wait till morning. you young ladies turn in. i shall keep watch during the rest of the night. i take no more chances. it is time for something to be done, rather than to wait till it's too late." "i agree with you," answered the guardian, emphasizing her conclusion with an emphatic nod. "now, girls, go to bed, as mr. grubb suggests. i shall be with you in a few moments we must get as early a start as possible." "yes, the trouble begins in the morning," agreed janus. "but i reckon the young ladies are good for it. they are pretty well seasoned, but they will find themselves thoroughly fagged before to-morrow night." it was not long afterward that the girls were sound asleep, not to be awakened until an hour after daylight. when they emerged from their torn tent they were greeted by the welcome odors of breakfast, which the guide now had ready to serve. after breakfast began the hard climb up the mountain, but the meadow-brook girls approached it joyously. it was worth while because they were accomplishing something. packs were made ready immediately after breakfast. fairly staggering under their burdens, the party set out up a very fair pack trail, a short cut to the shelter, part way up the side of mount chocorua. the shelter was reached about the middle of the forenoon. the girls dropped their burdens and threw themselves down, breathing hard, with flushed faces and bright eyes. even margery seemed to be taking a real interest in life, though she had complained a little of the bump on her head, which was even more tender than it had been the previous night after she had been hit by the tent pole. "no time to waste. you young ladies get the luncheon ready while i am fixing the packs," called the guide. "we must reach the sokoki leap before night, or we shan't have a good place to sleep. i am going to leave a good part of the equipment here. we will pick it up on our way down to-morrow afternoon." the girls dragged themselves to their feet and began preparing the light luncheon that they had decided upon. it would not be wise to eat a heavy meal now, with the work of the afternoon before them. in the meantime mr. grubb assorted their belongings into neat packs. they were bacon, rice and flour, coffee and a little corn meal, together with seasonings and butter, with a small bag of sugar and a can of condensed milk. one tin plate apiece and "one to grow on," a spoon, a knife and a fork for each member of the party, one frying-pan, a coffee pot and a tin cup apiece, made up the bulk of their equipment. in addition to this a belt-hatchet was worn by each member of the party, the guide carrying long, slender but strong ropes that would be needed if difficult climbs were attempted. janus ceased his labors long enough to drink a cup of coffee and eat some biscuit. he told the girls to leave out enough bacon for the entire party for two meals, figuring for three thin slices apiece to the meal. margery demurred at being limited to three thin slices of bacon. she declared she should perish of hunger. after luncheon the girls repaired to the hut to make ready for their climb. "now, girls," began miss elting, "before starting i wish to caution you that you must obey the guide. he understands mountain-climbing. i have done a little climbing but not enough to qualify as an expert. and, remember, no pranks while we are climbing; a single slip might result seriously for all of us. which way do we go, mr. grubb?" "around back of the shelter. there is an easy trail leading up to the top, but that isn't the way you want to go. you want to climb. you shall. have you your belts on?" he glanced over the girls critically. "all right," he added, "follow me." janus led the way around a rear corner of the shelter, after having labeled and stowed their packs in the hut. he said they would be perfectly safe there, that no one would disturb them. but the girls were rather amazed when, instead of beginning to climb up, the guide started down a sharp incline, calling to his charges to follow. "thith ithn't up," cried tommy. "we have to go through this gully first of all, then we begin going up," he explained. the couloir proved to be something of a hard proposition right at the beginning. jagged rocks, sudden narrow miniature gullies, bushes with sharp thorns, slippery, treacherous shale, made the descent a trying one. once margery lost her footing on one of these shale shelfs. she fell flat on her back and slid screaming a full twenty yards, shooting out on a grassy slope little the worse for her slide, except that she had been badly frightened. tommy was delighted. "wouldn't buthter make a fine toboggan?" she laughed. reaching the bottom of the gully, a long, narrow crevasse in the mountain, they began the real ascent. up and up they went, now and then lying against a rock, to which they clung, out of breath from their exertions, their faces flushed and warm. far above them janus pointed out a little projection of rock that seemed no larger than a human hand. "that," said the guide, "is where we camp to-night," "thave me!" wailed tommy. "keep going. we _must_ reach the sokoki leap before dark," urged janus. and far up there on the mountainside the meadow-brook girls fixed their gaze on the bit of rock that was to be their sleeping place, and where they were to spend a night more full of interest than they dreamed. chapter x a slippery climb for a few moments after the guide's ultimatum they plodded patiently along. no one noticed that the sky was cloudy until a shower of cold raindrops smote them in the face. tommy and margery cried out in alarm. "climb!" shouted the guide. "you've got to keep going. it isn't going to rain much. just that one little cloud overhead." but the cloud, though small, held a deluge of water which was poured directly down into the faces and over the heads of the meadow-brook girls, drenching them. furthermore, the water made the rocks so slippery that it became difficult for one to take a safe hold with either hands or feet. progress became more slow, the ascent more difficult. janus proved himself a master in the art of climbing. the girls met with only one really dangerous situation during that afternoon's climb. that was when they came to a place where there were steep slabs of granite with no hand-holds. over them the girls were obliged to pass with scarcely a foothold, what there were of these being almost too far apart for them to reach. the life line here came into use for the first time. the guide crawled over the rocks, taking one end of the line with him; then the girls, one by one, crept after him, clinging to the line, every step being made with extreme caution, for a slip would have meant a drop of about thirty feet and a landing on sharp, jagged rocks. it would not have been a long fall, but the landing was another matter. then, at the end, there was another difficulty. here they had to work their way around a corner. only one could move at a time, the others holding on tightly until she had reached a place where she, in turn, could brace herself while the next one moved up; and so on until all had passed the bulging rock that had seemed to bar their passage absolutely. "fine!" approved the guide. "you did it like veteran climbers." "where ith the camp?" wailed tommy. "i can't go another thtep. i'm finithed." "rest a few moments," directed the guide. "the shower is ended," announced miss elting. "let it rain some more," declared jane mccarthy sturdily. "we can't get any wetter and the rain will help to cool us off. it doesn't seem to be far to the camping place." "it isn't far in a straight line. we have to take a zig-zag course, you see," said the guide. janus waved his hand as a signal for them to start. once more they took up the weary climb, crawling from rock to rock, slowly getting higher and higher, but at no time in danger of a long fall. the experience of a really perilous climb lay ahead of them for another day. twilight was just settling over the upper reaches of the mountain when they halted for the final climb to their night's camping place. in the ravines darkness already had fallen. "you will all wait here while i crawl around and get to the shelf. i think some of you may have to be hauled up," decided the guide. the girls gazed up a sharply sloping slab of granite, fully twenty feet long. it followed a diagonal course, the top of it being some rods from the shelf where they were to make camp. but, reaching the top, they would be able to crawl along until they made the shelf, the only level spot between themselves and the very top of mount chocorua. janus disappeared from view to the left, appearing twenty minutes later at the top of the long, smooth slab. he held a coil of rope in his hands. "look out below," he called, sending the coil shooting down the slab of granite. "by taking hold of the rope, and bracing the body at the proper angle, you mountain climbers ought to be able to walk right up. who is coming first?" "let mith elting go, tho we can laugh at her," suggested tommy teasingly. "thhe won't care if we laugh." "do!" giggled margery. "i shall be delighted if doing so will furnish you any amusement," answered the guardian calmly; "that is, provided you send margery next, then grace, and so on." harriet promised to see that the order was followed out as suggested. miss elting glanced up the sloping rock, took the line firmly in her hand, then waved a good-bye to the girls. she stepped cautiously to the rock, braced first one foot then the other, and leaned back until her weight was directed in the right way. she then began walking up the rock, hand over hand, with an ease that amazed the meadow-brook girls. janus reached over and took firm hold of the guardian's arm for the last step to insure her safety. "i haven't heard any one laugh down there, girls," called the guardian, presenting a smiling face to them. "you next, margery. i hope you can climb up as easily." "why, i didn't think it would be so easy. of course i can do it. tommy, you watch me carefully so you'll know how to walk up. it will be your turn next." "yeth," observed tommy, winking solemnly as she caught crazy jane's laughing eyes fixed upon her. margery took hold of the rope, meanwhile gazing up the slippery slope. her courage failed her for the moment; then, as the memory of the guardian's easy ascent came to her, she nodded confidently and began the upward climb. "lean well back," called harriet. "hold fatht, girlth," cried tommy. "if buthter fallth there will be an earthquake. i thouldn't be thurprithed if the whole mountain fell in." "keep still, you make me nervous," rebuked margery irritably. "isn't it hard enough to climb this skating rink without being bothered by you?" in her irritation margery forgot to lean back. she began to lean forward to assist herself, believing perhaps she could make more rapid headway in the latter position, at the same time finding fault with the girls for making fun of her. "lean back!" came the warning shout from above and below. but the warning was not heeded in time. margery brown's feet slipped. she threw out her hands, though not soon enough to prevent striking her nose against the hard rock with such force that it seemed to the girls that it must have been driven into her face. "lean back, buthter!" shouted tommy, this time in all seriousness. instead of leaning back, buster slipped back, landing at the foot of the incline a sobbing, screaming heap. harriet and jane sprang forward, gathering up the unfortunate girl in their arms. margery's face was covered with blood. the blood was still streaming from her injured nose. "oh, get some water," cried hazel. "there is none to be had here," answered harriet. "does your nose hurt you much, margery?" "oh, ye--ye--yes," sobbed the girl. "my nose is broken. oh, what shall i do? what shall i do?" "wait!" harriet tied the end of the rope to the back of buster's belt. "we will let them pull you up. i think mr. grubb will know where to find water up there." "i don't want to go up," protested margery. jane was now mopping the blood from margery's swollen face. "ithn't it too bad that buthter ith tho awkward," said tommy in a sympathetic tone. "i don't think thhe will ever reach the top of the mountain." "take her away! take her away!" screamed margery. "yes. be off with you," ordered jane. "you have about as much sympathy as these rocks." "is margery seriously hurt?" called the guardian. "yeth. thhe thkinned her nothe," tommy informed her. "i gueth thhe will be all right, after thhe hath grown thome new thkin." "pull up, please," called harriet. "margery, lean forward this time and keep your hands at your sides. that is the way. mr. grubb will have you up there in no time. tommy, i am ashamed of you for making fun of margery when you knew she was suffering." "i wathn't. i'm thorry that buthter thuffered. i know what it ith to thuffer. lotth of painful thingth have happened to me." "indeed they have, and we've all heard about them, too," said jane sarcastically. "see how nicely margery is going up. that is the way we shall send you up, jane dear," said harriet, with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "you will not!" retorted crazy jane indignantly. "i'll stay down first, and you know i will. but you're only joking and you know it." "hath buthter broken her nothe?" questioned tommy. "i think not," replied miss elting. "come, get started, tommy. mr. grubb will assist you. i shall have to look after margery's bruised face." "i don't need any athithtanthe. i gueth i know how to get up there by mythelf. bethideth, i don't want to thkin my nothe." "wait!" commanded jane threateningly. "no, i'm going. look out! i'm coming. get buthter out of the way, pleathe." "she doesn't know whether she is going or coming," was margery's withering comment. "oh, thith ith eathy," declared tommy. "all you have to do ith to take hold of the rope with both handth, lean back ath if you were looking at a bird flying over your head and--thave me! oh, thave me!" had not tommy quickly raised her head she might have sustained a fractured skull. her feet left the rock and beat a positive tattoo in the air. a moment more and she had managed to entangle them in the rope and, powerless to help herself, shrieked and struggled frantically. "thave me, thave me! i can't move!" she screamed. "you can use your voice, so don't worry," jeered margery, who had forgotten her own misfortune sufficiently to laugh heartily at tommy's predicament--in fact, they were all laughing. it was not often that anyone got the better of tommy, and now that she had come to grief, the entire party, not excepting miss elting, could not resist teasing her a little. "thave me!" tommy's screams had now become despairing wails. "just make believe you're watching a bird fly through the air," was jane's sarcastic advice. "lean back and take it easy." "we will save you, tommy. pull her up, mr. grubb," urged harriet, her sympathy overcoming her laughter. "what, that way?" inquired janus doubtfully. "yes, certainly." janus grinned, then began hauling in on the rope with both hands. he did it rapidly. tommy began to move up the slope, her feet still entangled with the rope. janus pulled stolidly, paying no attention to the torrent of expostulations that tommy shrieked at him. her companions were shouting, cheering and offering aggravating suggestions to the little girl, margery brown's voice being heard above the rest. it was the happiest moment she had known since the meadow-brook girls had started out to spend their vacations in the open. janus was grinning almost from ear to ear. tommy lay on her back, gazing scowlingly up into the grinning face of the guide. suddenly her expression changed. a look of cunning appeared in her eyes. then tommy thompson turned the tables on her tantalizers in a way that set the party in a greater uproar. janus grubb, too, learned a lesson that he did not soon forget. chapter xi the tragedy of chocorua "pull harder!" screamed tommy. "i'm getting a ruthh of blood to my head. pull fatht, mr. januth." this sally was greeted with another shout from the girls. tommy, having turned her head to one side to glance up the slope, had discovered something. that something was a little nub or projection that protruded from the rock directly in her path. unless they changed her course she would be scraped over the projection, which the girl well knew would cause her some pain as well as tear her skirt. but it was not of this latter that she was thinking when she called to the guide to hurry. the little, lisping girl had evolved a plan; but, that they might not suspect her of any trickery, she screamed the louder. in her quick survey of the situation above her she also discovered that the upper end of the rope was tied to a rock, so that the rope could not get away. "fathter, fathter!" urged tommy. "the little one is planning mischief," declared jane, gazing narrowly up the slope. "yes, i know. get to one side," replied harriet laughingly. "what is it, honey?" whispered jane. "wait! you'll see some fun in a moment. you may trust tommy to get even every time. there he comes!" janus, under tommy's urging, had leaned well forward. he was grinning even more broadly than before, pulling on the line with all his might, the perspiration dripping from his forehead. all at once tommy swung in the foot that was free and thrust it straight up the slope. the little projection caught her foot. tommy stiffened one leg and stopped short with a jolt which shook her slender body. but she didn't care. "thave me!" howled the little, lisping girl. janus, caught off his balance, did exactly what harriet burrell had foreseen he would do. the guide was jerked from his feet, and, throwing out both hands before him to protect himself, went shooting down the incline headfirst. "grab the rope!" he shouted, as he pitched over. in the meantime something was happening to grace thompson. no one having grabbed the line, she, too, shot backward head first. harriet, fearing that the girl's head would be crushed when she reached the bottom of the slope, sprang forward, and, bracing herself, stooped over with her hands close to the ground. it all happened in a few seconds. jane had barely time to collect her thoughts when tommy was caught in harriet's net. harriet had caught her by the shoulders and stopped the force of the slide, but in doing so she herself toppled over backward. jane uttered a war whoop. her joyous shout died a sudden death when the oncoming janus collided with her, bowling crazy jane over. she quickly rolled out of the way while the guide continued on over the edge, tumbling down a second incline to the surface of a flat rock about eight feet below. tommy got up, gazing about her in mild amazement. "did thomebody fall down, harriet?" she asked. "no, somebody fell up," jeered jane. "look after mr. grubb," cried the guardian; "i fear he is hurt." janus pulled himself slowly to a sitting position, and took an inventory to make sure that he was all there and still fastened together. for the moment he was not quite clear as to what really had occurred. when he saw the blue eyes of tommy thompson peering over at him, he remembered. "oh, that ith too bad, mr. januth," she said with a voice full of sympathy. "you thouldn't have let go. i might have broken my prethiouth neck." "let go?" roared the guide. "consarn it, i didn't let go! the rope pulled me over." "ithn't that too bad? did you hurt yourself?" "no." jane was sitting on the rocks, rocking her body back and forth, laughing, trying to keep her voice within reasonable limits. "are you all right, tommy?" called miss elting anxiously. "no, i'm all pulled to pietheth. tho ith januth, i'm afraid." "oh, girls, what am i going to do with you? please hurry. it is getting dark, and we must reach the shelf," implored miss elting. the guide scrambled to his feet and began clambering up to miss elting and margery. this time tommy was directed to sit down, as had margery. she did so, chuckling to herself, and was quickly hauled to the top. hazel followed, sitting. harriet and jane ran up with the support of the rope, and in a few moments the entire party was together. "you must follow me in single file," directed the guide. "it's a narrow trail to the shelf, so no nonsense. here, pass the rope along and keep a tight hold on it, every one of you." they did as directed. none had any desire to play pranks, now that they could barely see where they were placing their feet. the guide led them safely to the shelf rock, a huge slab of granite as level as a house floor, about thirty feet long and ten feet deep. at the back towered a solid sheet of granite for a hundred feet or more, while in front the rocks dropped sheer for almost twice that distance. the girls shivered a little as they peered over the edge of the slab. the guide unslung a bundle of sticks that he had gathered somewhere in the vicinity and threw them down. "unload and get ready for grub," he directed. "here's enough wood for the supper fire; i'll get some more later on; i know where to look for it. better keep away from the edge. there won't be any coming back, if one of you falls over there." "yes, girls. keep well back. we have had quite enough excitement for one afternoon's climbing. how do you feel?" inquired miss elting. "well, buthter hath a thore nothe," answered tommy, speaking for her companion in distress. "i have thkinned thoulderth and theveral bruitheth. i don't know how jane and harriet feel." "i feel as if i'd been run over by my own motor car," decided jane mccarthy. "my arms and my feet are tired," admitted harriet. "and, now that we have discussed our miseries, let's think about supper. we shall all feel better after a good meal and a rest. here margery." harriet spread a blanket, which buster welcomed by promptly crawling over to it and lying down. "the rock is awfully hard," she complained. "never mind, dearie; we'll pour some water on it and soften it for you," comforted jane mccarthy. "speaking of water, that reminds me: where are we to get our water for the coffee?" questioned harriet. "there's a spring on the other side of these rocks. there isn't much water in it, but i reckon there will be enough for us. never mind. don't you get it. don't you go puttering around where you can't see," janus warned. a little blaze sprang up from the pile of sticks he had heaped and fired with a match. the light from the fire soon threw the outer world into black darkness. they could not make it seem possible that there, almost within reach of their hands, was a precipice dropping down nearly two hundred feet. but the thought caused them to keep well to the rear of the shelf. the guide gathered the cups, and, with these and the coffee pot, went to the spring, a mere trickle in the rocks, where he first filled the coffee pot, then the cups, carrying them back and placing them in a row against the wall. harriet put the water over the fire to boil. miss elting sliced the bacon, while jane prepared some rice for boiling. the latter occupied considerable time in cooking and was not particularly palatable. janus said that in the morning they would cook enough of it to last for a day or two. hazel put the bacon in the frying pan. each one, except margery, found something to do and found joy in the doing despite their aches and pains, from which not a member of the meadow-brook party was free that evening. the climbing had brought into activity little used muscles, as the girls had by this time discovered. the supper was late that evening. janus had brought the small lantern. this he secured above their heads by thrusting a stick into a crevice and suspending the lantern from it, thus shedding a little light besides that given off by the campfire. the party sat down with their feet curled under them and thoroughly enjoyed the somewhat slender meal. "how good everything does taste!" remarked margery. jane averred that margery's accident had done her good. "i've been thinking about the accident to our guide," said miss elting. "i don't know yet how it occurred." "i caught my foot on a nub," tommy informed her. "that pulled mr. januth down on hith fathe." "oh! i see." mr. grubb regarded tommy suspiciously. her face wore an innocent expression, but when tommy winked solemnly at harriet, janus was enlightened. "well, i swum! i swum!" he repeated, "i believe you did that on purpose." "why, mr. januth!" protested tommy. "do ye deny it?" "no, mr. januth, i don't deny it. athk me and i'll tell you the truth." "all right, i ask ye. did ye pull me down?" "no, thir. you fell down, didn't you? but i let my foot catthh on a nub. i knew it would pull you over. you made fatheth at me tho i helped you to fall down. oh, it wath funny!" tommy laughed merrily. "grace thompson! i am amazed!" exclaimed miss elting. "tho wath mr. januth. but i'm thorry, now. i won't do it again, if you won't make fatheth at me." "well, i swum! shake, little pardner! you got the best of janus grubb that time, but his time will come." "you've got to promithe," insisted tommy. "all right. i promise." "tho do i." peace had been declared, greatly to the relief of the rest of the party, who did not know to what lengths tommy thompson might go to pay the score she thought she had against the guide who had grinned at her on seeing her in an unpleasant predicament that afternoon. the meal finished, janus went away to secure fresh fuel for the fire, the girls in the meantime setting the camp to rights, which meant spreading the blankets for the night and clearing away the dishes. "there is one advantage about this kind of living," observed hazel; "we do not have any glassware to polish." "nor silver," added margery. janus returned with an armful of wood. the fire was built up, flaring into the air just as tommy uttered a scream. the scream was followed by a distant clatter. the girls jumped. for a second they thought grace had fallen over, but great was their relief to see her standing a few feet from the edge of the precipice trying to peer over. "what is it, dear?" called the guardian. "oh, i lotht the frying pan," wailed tommy. "what!" shouted the girls. "i lotht it. i did. i wath emptying it when it fell down. but never mind, mr. januth will go down for it." the girls groaned. "now you have done it," exclaimed jane. "whatever are we going to do without a frying-pan?" "i told you mr. januth ith going down after it," insisted tommy. "no, janus is not," answered the guide. "there isn't enough of that frying-pan left to make grit for chickens. two hundred feet and then the rocks. well, i swum! you'll go without eating to-morrow, so far as the frying-pan is concerned." "we ought to do something to tommy for that," declared harriet. "what shall it be, girls?" "oh, let her alone. tommy will punish herself if you give her time," averred margery. tommy nodded. "yeth, leave it to me," she urged. "i can take care of mythelf. buthter ith right, for once in her life. leave it to me." they agreed to do so. harriet turned to miss elting. "you promised to tell us the legend that belongs to this shelf of rock on which we are encamped. if not too long a story, will you relate it now?" the girls crept to the fire, about which they sat in a circle with their feet tucked under them in true council-fire style. "you probably have read," began miss elting, "that the sokokis, a powerful indian tribe, once held possession of these hills. chocorua, for whom this mountain is named, was chief of a mighty tribe. the chief, in revenge for the loss of his son, who had been slain by the whites in battle, killed a white settler's wife and child. this white man swore to have the life of the powerful chocorua. shouldering his gun, he followed the mountain trails for many days and nights. the chief knew that an avenger was on his trail; his braves knew it. they made every effort to catch the avenging white man, but he was too clever for them. yet not an indian was molested. the white man wanted only chocorua, and chocorua knew it. the chief fled from place to place, ever pursued by the persistent avenger. then, at last, the white man found the trail when it was hot. he followed the trail, and one day, when the morning was young, came face to face with the savage chief." "do you know where they met, young ladies?" interrupted janus, who was familiar with the legend. the girls shook their heads. "right here where we are sitting now." "grathiouth!" muttered tommy, glancing about her apprehensively. "they aren't here now, my dear tommy," observed miss elting smilingly. "the white man pointed his gun at the indian," she continued, "but the old chieftain never flinched. he sent back a look so full of hatred that the white man almost feared him. the chief, with upraised hands, called down the curses of the great spirit on the head of the white man and all his kind. then chocorua turned and sped swiftly to the far end of the shelf, near where we got the water for our supper, and, without an instant's hesitation, leaped far out into space." "oh!" exclaimed the girls shudderingly. "the body of the chief dashed from rock to rock, finally dropping into the lake which you saw as we came up. then a strange thing occurred. the white settlers finally conquered the indians; then they brought in their stock and began to graze them. but after that every animal that drank from the lake died. it came to be known as the 'lake of the poisoned waters.' the indians declared this to be the revenge of the great spirit." "how strange!" pondered harriet. "a number of scientific men, passing through this section years afterward, unraveled the mystery. they say that the lime formation of the rocks, through which the water seeps into the lake, has poisoned the water. but you cannot make an indian believe that." "ith thith a fairy thtory, or a really-truly thtory?" demanded tommy. "it is only a legend, tommy," was miss elting's smiling reply. "it has been a most interesting story," nodded harriet. "i love indian folklore." "girls, it is time for you to turn in," reminded miss elting. "i don't like such stories before going to bed," objected margery. "i know i shall have the nightmare. oh!" "we will roll you over if you do," answered jane. "there's nobody but ourselves to hear you, either, so you may yell all you please, and----" "no!" protested tommy. "if buthter yellth i'll yell, too, and wake up all the retht of you." "then you'll be attended to then and there," jane warned her. "you let me alone. i will let you know when i get ready for your thervithes. you needn't go on talking about me, either. you make me nervouth, ath buthter sayth." janus began his preparations for the night. these consisted principally in taking each girl's rope and securing it to his own belt, which he had taken off for the purpose of making the ropes fast to it. they watched him with keen interest. "just a precaution," he explained. "if any one of you moves in the night i shall know it." "my grathiouth!" shuddered tommy, "ithn't it exthiting?" she made a ridiculous face at the guide's broad back. the girls tried hard not to laugh, but margery giggled audibly, bringing a frown from the guardian. tommy, however, declared that she would not roll up in her blanket, that she would fold it over her, so she could get up without disturbing the camp. "roll up when you are ready," directed the guide. each girl, except tommy, lay down on her blanket, and, tucking in one edge, proceeded to roll herself up in it indian-fashion, leaving only her head and face exposed to the air. tommy sat up, observing them solemnly. "you look like a lot of mummieth," she declared. "and we feel like them, darlin'," answered jane. the guide now proceeded to wrap the free end of rope about each girl's waist over the blanket, except in tommy's case. she preferred to have the rope about her waist before rolling up in her blanket, determining in her own mind to slip the loop off after the others had gone to sleep. fortunately, however, tommy thompson's eyes grew heavy and she dropped to sleep ahead of her companions. the guide lay down with his blanket half folded over him without a single worry on his mind, knowing that his charges could not get far away without a pulling on the lines that would awaken him. but when the pulling on the lines did come, janus grubb was not prepared for it, and the camp of the meadow-brook girls was thrown into wild excitement by what followed. chapter xii tommy falls out of bed the night was far spent, and the air at their altitude was crisp and chill. below them a fog had settled over the canyons and gullies, blotting the landscape entirely from the sight of any one above the mist line. but, though there was no moon, objects could be made out with reasonable distinctness on sokoki leap, where the girls, their guardian and the guide were sleeping more or less soundly. toward morning, however, tommy awoke with a start. she twitched and jerked, rolled herself into a ball, straightened out again and twisted and turned, wide awake and nervous. her rope being long, the guide was not disturbed--at least, not then. an owl hooted high in a ledge above their camping place. it hooted three times. tommy rose, throwing off her blanket. she stood shivering in her kimono, for the air had grown chilly, undecided whether to awaken the camp or lie down again. finally she sank down and rolled over and over in her blanket, this time determined to wrap up so snugly that the cold could not reach her. then came the interruption, starting with a scream so terrifying as to awaken every member of the party and to frighten the owl into sudden silence. shouts were heard from all sides. the girls began struggling to free themselves from their blankets. to do this some of them rolled toward the guide, others from him, according to the way they had rolled themselves in their blankets before going to sleep. harriet was the first to free herself from the folds of the gray blanket that enveloped her. she leaped to her feet, crying out, "what is the matter now?" a strange sight met her gaze. janus was sliding over the shelf, half rolling, half slipping, in a mysterious fashion. at the same time the others of the party were performing strangely, getting up, falling down, as, entangled in their blankets, they staggered dangerously near the edge of the rocky shelf, apparently unmindful of their peril. "catch me! jump on the rope!" yelled the guide. harriet's quick eyes, now wide open, caught the significance of the scene. without an instant's hesitation she sprang toward janus, fairly hurling herself upon him. one hand grabbed a taut rope that was straining with some heavy weight pulling on it at the other end. janus sat up as the girl threw her own weight on the line to assist in holding it until the guide should have recovered himself. "oh, what has happened?" cried the guardian. "some one is over the edge," answered harriet almost breathlessly. "quick! find out who it is." "it's tommy!" screamed margery brown. miss elting sprang toward the edge of the shelf. "stop!" thundered the guide. "careful! don't rush. take it easy. all the rest of you stay back. you go cautiously to the edge, miss elting, and find out just what shape she's in." grubb gave his commands in a quick, business-like tone; at the same time he removed his belt and unfastened the girls' ropes. margery began to scream again. jane grasped and shook her. "stop that! tommy's doing enough howling for the whole party," she exclaimed. tommy's cries were all-sufficient--heart-rending, in fact. harriet motioned to jane to come and assist in holding the rope. jane responded promptly. "may i go and help?" questioned harriet eagerly. "yes. it's a good idea. keep her quiet if you can," urged miss elting. "she is likely to saw the rope in two at the rate she is floundering about. i hope her belt is strong enough to hold." "oh my stars, what a mess!" groaned jane mccarthy. "it's worse than that," answered janus, but he did not explain just what danger threatened the screaming little girl. harriet turned the rope over to her companion and hurried to the edge of the shelf, where she stretched herself on the rock with her head protruding over. what she saw was an object that resembled a great spider suspended from a silken thread. the spider was dangling in the air, with arms and legs working frantically. the poor little spider, in this instance tommy thompson, was slowly turning from side to side, clawing frantically at the smooth side of the mountain when her hands got into position where she could touch it. miss elting was trying to soothe her. harriet adopted a different policy. "tommy!" she cried sharply. "oh, thave me! thave me!" wailed the little tow-headed girl. "do you want to drop clear to the bottom?" demanded harriet. "no, oh, no! thave me! i'll be good. i'll--" "you'll be down there in a heap if you don't stop struggling. listen to me! are you going to stop that screaming and do something for yourself, or are we to let you hang there until to-morrow morning?" continued harriet. "yeth, oh, yeth! i'll be good. i'll do whatever you tell me. but thave me. pleathe thave me!" sobbed the unhappy little tommy. "stop clawing. let your body hang limp. don't make a move, and keep quiet. you confuse us. remember, if you struggle you are likely to pull us over with you. i am going to get something; then i shall try to pull you up. hazel and margery, stay close to miss elting. miss elting, will you look after them while i go to hunt a stick?"' "come over here by me, girls," commanded the guardian in response to the request. "now, stand perfectly still. tommy's life may depend upon your doing only what you are told. a meadow-brook girl is a sort of soldier, and a soldier is not a good soldier unless he can take and obey orders." hazel was trembling a little, margery a great deal, but the words of the guardian served to quiet and steady both girls. harriet came running toward them, carrying a round stick, a piece from a small sapling that the guide had picked up for firewood. this she cautiously slipped under the rope at the edge of the shelf, prying the rope up a little in order to do so, thus sending tommy into a fresh outburst of terror when she felt the added movement of the rope. "miss elting, i think you had better manage the stick. you are not likely to lose your presence of mind. hazel and margery may help me pull tommy up. be sure not to let the rope drag over the sharp edge of the stone, or we may lose her." margery indulged in a fresh attack of shivering. hazel gripped her arm, whispering, "brace up, dear!" "oh, i can--n't," sobbed margery. "my knees won't hold me up." "now, girls," called harriet cheerily, "take hold of the rope, but be gentle about it. remember, a sharp jolt might be a serious thing for tommy. it might jerk miss elting over, too, so be very careful. now, tommy, we are going to pull you up. don't reach for the rock. it won't help you any to do so. just hang limp. try to imagine that you are a bag of meal and we are pulling you up for the muffins to-morrow morning." "oh, i can't laugh," wailed tommy. "then cry, if you wish, but don't make a noise doing it. shed all the tears you wish to, but let them be silent tears. now then!" harriet stepped back, taking firm hold of the rope. she was near the edge of the shelf, hazel directly behind her, with margery still farther back. "when you are ready, miss elting! let us know when you wish a fresh hold." harriet was perfectly calm outwardly. "ready!" "all together! one, two, three--pull! steady; not so violently. this is a small rope, and----" "whoa!" interjected the guardian sharply. "we are taking up the slack back here. good work for you girls," encouraged the guide. "what is it? oh, what is it?" screamed tommy. "stop that noise!" commanded harriet. "everything is all right!" "ready again," commanded miss elting. "one, two, three--pull!" tommy came up about a foot this time. her progress was slow, but it was, at least, sure. jane and the guide were acting as anchors, at the same time assisting in pulling on the line, holding down when the pauses came. after every pull miss elting would call a halt while she worked the round stick down over the edge of the rock to keep the rope from being unduly worn. in this way tommy came up little by little, now and then uttering a sharp scream at some unexpected jolt. once, when the rope slipped from the round stick, tommy felt herself slipping into unconsciousness, but pluckily recovered herself. she clenched her fists until the nails almost cut into the flesh of her hands, and all the time she was wondering if the belt that seemed to be cutting her in two would hold or break. those on the ledge above were wondering much the same thing. they were operating with extreme caution for that very reason. "you are almost up to us, tommy," encouraged the guardian. "be very careful. make no sudden moves. don't try to take hold of the edge when we get you level with it. we shall have to pull you over the last two or three feet by taking hold of you. then we will have something to be thankful for, won't we?" "yeth," wailed a weak voice from over the side. "ready!" this time tommy came up so close that the guardian was able to touch her. miss elting leaned over and patted tommy on the shoulder reassuringly. "one more long, strong pull and we shall have you within a little way of safety. girls, are you ready for the last pull?" margery was breathing heavily, hazel, too, was taking short, excited breaths. "yes, when you are ready," answered hazel. "get ready back there, ready to hold fast after the last pull. don't give way the fraction of an inch," called harriet. "this is like things i have read about alpine climbing, except that i guess they don't pull them up dangling in this fashion." "pull!" called the guardian. "steadily and slowly this time." the girls were breathing heavily now. "stop!" "oh, am i up?" wailed the little, lisping girl. "yes. now be perfectly quiet. harriet, can you help me?" "yes. all hold fast. i am going to let go. step back a little farther, girls. there!" "we have it," shouted janus. "we have," cried crazy jane. harriet stepped forward. "hold up your arm, tommy," directed the guardian. "you take that arm, harriet. now one foot, tommy. i'll take that. don't move about any more than you can help. wait! her arm first. have you got it, harriet?" "yes." snap! tommy uttered a wild scream of terror. miss elting was reaching for the upraised foot. tommy's belt gave way when her foot was almost within the guardian's grasp, and her slender body shot downward. chapter xiii placing the blame such screams as rose from over the ledge none of that party ever had heard. harriet, it will be remembered, had hold of the little girl's hands, or rather one hand, when tommy's belt broke. the jolt was so great that it seemed to the two girls as if their arms would be pulled from their sockets. tommy thought, too, that she was being hurled to her death when she felt herself falling. but harriet, with unusual presence of mind, had clutched the little girl's hand with a desperate grip. "give me the other hand," she panted. "i--i can't," sobbed tommy, who immediately began to wriggle in an attempt to reach the shelf. "then keep quiet. don't stir." instead of keeping quiet, the girl, now fairly beside herself with fear, began a series of lunges for the ridge above her. the result was what harriet had feared. she felt herself slipping forward toward the edge. in those few seconds harriet burrell came nearer to realizing what fear was than ever before. to let go would be to save herself at the cost of tommy's life. harriet not only held on; but reached over her free hand which she clasped over that of her companion. now she slipped more than ever. her companions did not seem to realize what had occurred. it had all come about so quickly that they did not quite comprehend. "grab me!" cried harriet. "i've got her! why don't you do something? i'm slipping over. quick! for mercy's sake, move!" jane mccarthy, who, with janus, was still clinging to the rope, now dropped it and sprang forward. jane went down on her knees, grasping harriet by the ankles. "hold me! are you all asleep?" shouted jane. janus awakened suddenly. but miss elting was a little ahead of him. the guardian sprang behind jane and slipped both arms around the latter's waist. "help harriet!" she cried. janus ran forward with a rope, making a noose in it as he ran. the guide went down on his knees beside harriet burrell. "can you swing her a little without dropping her?" he shouted. "yes, but she'll be dreadfully frightened." "we can't help that. swing her," commanded janus. harriet did so, bringing from tommy thompson a series of terrified screams. if any one else heard he must have believed that some one was being killed. but her shouts and screams did no harm. the guide took quick advantage of the opportunity offered by harriet to slip the loop in the rope over one of tommy's feet, then draw it taut. "i'm caught. mercy, i'm caught!" screamed tommy. "hang on to her! don't let go! stop that yelling until i tell you what to do!" commanded the guide. "we're going to pull you up the best way we can git you up. if you don't like it, don't fight; just yell. hold her as she is, miss harriet, while i give her foot a yank." he really did jerk on the rope, but more for the purpose of tightening the loop than for any other reason. of course, the proceeding was followed by an ear-piercing scream. janus promptly began to pull up on the line. tommy's foot came up with it, leaving the other foot and one arm dangling in the air nearly two hundred feet from the bottom of the cliff. "pull when we get her level. no; the rest of you folks keep back, or we'll all be over, first thing we know. there! over she comes!" with a final effort they had landed tommy on the shelf. she was sobbing pitifully. her ordeal had been sufficient to upset the strongest nerved person. "you poor darling," cried miss elting, gathering the terror-stricken tommy in her arms and staggering to the rear of the shelf, where she placed the terrified girl on a blanket. harriet sat back where she was. she was breathing heavily from her exertions, and further than this she admitted to herself that she was a little faint. but not for worlds would she have her companions know this. "better get back," advised the guide. "one is enough." "don't trouble about me. i will as soon as i get my breath. that was a hard position in which to do any lifting." "i reckon. i take off my hat to you, miss burrell. this outfit isn't in such great need of a pilot. you could get along without me and never miss me for a minute except when it comes to toting a pack, and even then i guess you could do without me, especially if that young lady threw a dish or so overboard after every meal," he added jocularly. "is there any wood?" "yes. there you are again. i never think of anything. i get lost wondering what's going to happen next. you sit down. i'll attend to the fire. it is cold. you are shivering, aren't you"? "i--i believe i am." harriet got up and walked over to her companions. she walked rather unsteadily, but they were too much upset themselves to observe it. tommy lay on a blanket with face buried in her arms, sobbing, every fourth sob being a hysterical moan. harriet sat down beside the unhappy little girl, slipping an arm about her waist. "it's all over now, honey. don't cry." "i'm thick! pleathe give me thome--thome water." "water," called harriet. "is there any? if not, let mr. janus get it, if he will." "if she can wait a few moments we'll all have some hot coffee," answered the guide. but tommy could not wait. she insisted on having a drink of water, so the guide brought it to her. this seemed to take the girl's mind from her recent fright, and lying on her back tommy thompson gradually became quiet and surveyed the guide's coffee-making through half-closed eyes. "do you think you can go to sleep?" asked miss elting, stooping over the recumbent tommy. "not until i get thome coffee," answered tommy, gazing up soulfully into the anxious face of the guardian. margery laughed almost hysterically. it was the first laugh that had been heard in camp for some time, so it was welcome, helping to relieve the tension as it did. tommy turned her eyes on her stout friend in a droll way which set margery to giggling afresh. the fire was crackling by this time. harriet dragged tommy's blanket up closer to it, that she might get some of its warmth. janus, looking unusually solemn, was boiling water for the coffee. "she had a pretty narrow escape," he nodded, observing harriet's eyes upon him. "indeed she did," agreed harriet, with a slight shudder. "no more sleep for me this night," cried crazy jane. "it's my opinion that that wild indian chief put a hoodoo on this rock, as well as on the lake below. i shouldn't be surprised at most anything happening here." "yes. suppose the wall should fall in?" suggested margery, gazing apprehensively up the side of the granite wall, on which the light from the fire was reflected in arrow-like shafts. "will you stop that?" demanded jane. "haven't we had trouble enough for one night without your suggesting anything else?" "you started the subject yourself," reminded harriet. "who would like a bite to eat with her coffee?" interrupted the guardian. "tommy, would you like to have a biscuit?" "oh, no, thank you." "i would," declared margery. "yeth. buthter ith never thatithfied. thhe is always hungry," taunted tommy. "and you've got over your scare," added jane significantly. the guardian set out some biscuits and lumps of sugar on a piece of paper. the condensed milk was not brought. everyone with the exception of harriet and tommy was possessed of keen appetites after their trying experiences. janus, too, ate three biscuits and drank three cups of strong coffee. "better have some," he urged, glancing at harriet, who had refused the coffee. "i guess harriet is ill, too," suggested margery. "i wish to sleep to-night. i shouldn't sleep a wink were i to drink that black stuff, nor will you." "you watch us and see," chuckled margery. "tommy, how did you come to get over the edge?" questioned the guardian, now that the little girl had begun to feel better. "you certainly cannot blame our enemy for this accident," declared jane. "i wonder if he did push tommy over?" margery's eyes were large as she voiced the question. "nonsense!" retorted harriet burrell. "yes. that's what i say," agreed miss elting. "i suppose she will lay it to me," chuckled the guide. "yeth, i ought to," nodded tommy. "but we agreed not to fight any more, didn't we?" "we did," he replied very gravely, "and we are not going to, are we?" tommy shook her head. "not before to-morrow, i gueth. i'm too tired to fight. did i furnithh you with exthitement enough for one night?" "will you listen to her?" laughed crazy jane. "little tommy thompson fell off the mountain to furnish us with excitement. of course we are satisfied. we forgive you for all your tricks, and we don't care how much excitement you furnish if you will only keep your feet on something solid. we came within a little of all going over with you in our fright." "ithn't that nithe?" glowed tommy. she was recovering her spirits. "i thhould have had company." "that is a very ill-timed remark, tommy," answered miss elting in a severe tone. "i am surprised at your flippancy. i really believe you enjoyed our fright." "yeth. didn't you hear me laugh when i wath down there?" "i wouldn't say such things if i had made as much trouble as tommy has," declared margery. "of courthe you wouldn't," agreed tommy. "you haven't a thenthe of humor." "some people have no sense at all," flung back buster. "we have forgotten something," interrupted harriet. "tommy's blanket is down there somewhere. we ought to have it before going on in the morning. you may keep mine for to-night, if you wish. you are going to sit up the rest of the night, are you not, mr. grubb?" "yes. i'll take no more chances with this party on sokoki leap. i'll keep the fire going the rest of the night, too. fix your blankets so your feet will be toward the fire. the indians would say, 'indian keep him head cool, feet warm.'" "we have done better than that this evening," answered jane laughingly. "we managed to keep our head and feet warm at the same time." "i should say we have," mused harriet. "but what about the blanket? we do not wish to lose it." "i'll go down and get it in the morning," said janus. "you needn't wait breakfast for me; i'll have something to eat before leaving. but do be careful. i don't want to have the little one falling down the rocks and landing on my head when i get there. better turn in as soon as possible, young ladies. we have a mighty hard trail ahead of us in the morning, and some more slippery granite to climb. another thing, you'd better put another belt on miss thompson. you'll find some leather and a buckle in my kit. there's sewing material there also." "how far shall we have to climb?" asked hazel. "'bout a thousand feet, as a bird flies," janus answered, with a careless gesture. "ob, thave me!" wailed tommy desperately. "i can't thtand any more." "why, tommy, we've hardly begun yet," harriet retorted smilingly. "maybe _you_ haven't, but thome of uth have about finithed," asserted the little, lisping girl. "for once, tommy and i agree," groaned margery. not long after the girls turned in for the second time that night. daybreak would soon send its gray light into their camp on sokoki leap. but the day ahead of them was not fated to be, in all respects, a time of calm. tommy thompson and even her better-poised companions were to have further opportunities for distinguishing themselves. chapter xiv giving a toboggan points a brilliant sun, gilding the peaks of chocorua and shining in her eyes, awoke harriet burrell. a panorama of sunlit hills, still darkened caverns and gorges, precipitous cliffs and sombre ravines caused the meadow-brook girls to exclaim joyously. thin, silvery ribbons in the landscape showed where foaming brooks ran. there were short waterfalls, long cascades, bright little lakes and countless valleys of green. "it's too beautiful to be real!" throbbed harriet burrell as she unwound herself from her blanket and started to replenish the fire. the coffee pot was already on the fire, supported by two stones. it was steaming and sputtering. then, for the first time, she observed that janus grubb was nowhere in sight. harriet got up and tip-toed softly to the edge of the cliff, where she lay down flat, peering over. at first she saw nothing of interest; then all at once she caught sight of a moving speck at the foot of the cliff. "it's janus!" she exclaimed. "why, he doesn't look any larger than a chessman. i wonder how much would have been left of tommy had she fallen down there?" harriet shuddered at the thought of her companion's narrow escape--the narrow escape of the entire party, for that matter. crawling cautiously back, she lay gazing off over the valley. "the poisoned lake" lay in plain view. the girl pondered over the tragedy of which the guide had told them. such tragedies, such deeds of violence as he had named, should have no place in a peaceful scene such as this, thought harriet. "harriet!" she turned her head to find miss elting sitting up with a worried expression on her face. "for pity's sake, come away from there! my nerves will not stand many more such shocks as we had last night." "why, i am not afraid," answered harriet. "what are you doing there?" "watching janus. he is down below. you ought to take a peep at him. he looks so small and so funny." "thank you. i am well satisfied to take your word for it. will you please come away from there?" "certainly, if you wish it." harriet got up promptly and walked back, stepping over her companions, then sitting down beside the guardian. "you are a brave little girl, harriet, dear," said miss elting softly, patting the brown head affectionately. "but don't you think you are just a little bit foolhardy?" "i--i hadn't thought about it," answered the girl, flushing. "i do not mean to be." "i know. you are thoughtless of your own peril. you know we must not let anything happen to any of our party. we want to have other happy summers in the open together; and, were anything serious to occur to any member of our party, that would end it. neither your parents nor those of the other girls would permit them to go out again in this way. will you promise to be more careful in future?" "i don't like to do that; i am afraid i might not keep my promise," admitted harriet, hanging her head. "but i will promise to do the best i can and not to take any more chances than i have to." jane awakened at this juncture and lay blinking at them for a moment, after which she sat up, rubbing her eyes. "good morning, misses owls. have you two been croaking there all night?" "no, jane, dear, we have not. we have been conversing for the past ten or fifteen minutes. previous to that time i was peeping over the edge at mr. grubb, who is down there looking for tommy's blanket. still farther back than that i was sound asleep. miss elting has been reading me a lecture. it is your turn now." margery sat up at this juncture. she unrolled her blanket, flung it aside, and, going to the wall, sank down against it, resting her still heavy head in her hands. "what's the matter with you, margery?" questioned jane. "matter?" complained buster. "one might as well try to sleep in that boiler factory at meadow-brook as in this camp." "that's so, little sunshine; i agree with you. this is a dynamite as well as a boiler factory, with an explosion twice, every day and at least once in the night." "dynamite?" piped tommy. "where ith it?" "there, you see! you have awakened every one of us except hazel," complained jane. "now, go on talking and you'll waken her, too; then we'll all be awake, and can think about cooking breakfast." "jane mccarthy, you can talk more and say less than any person i ever knew," exclaimed margery petulantly. "i agree with you, little sunshine. i agree with every word you have said this morning, and i'm going to come right over there and kiss you for your sweetness. isn't she good-natured, and so early in the morning, too?" laughed jane, her eyes sparkling with mischief. a shout of laughter greeted crazy jane's naive words. the shout awakened hazel. margery dropped her hands from her face. her petulant mouth relaxed into an unwilling smile; then she burst out laughing. "i thought i'd chase away that sour face," teased jane. "i'll look crosser than ever if you don't stop," threatened the stout girl. one by one the girls went over to the rivulet and washed. there was not much water to be had, but it made up in coldness what it lacked in quantity and freshened them greatly. harriet started to prepare the breakfast as soon as she had washed and dried her face and hands. the dishes were set out on the granite shelf, and there, more than two thousand feet in the air, the meadow-brook girls sat down to their morning meal. janus had not returned by the time they finished, but came in about half an hour later. he had the blanket and the handle of the frying-pan that tommy had dropped. he said that was all there was left of the frying-pan. he thought the handle might be useful somewhere, so had brought it back with him. "i suggest that we take the handle home and frame it. we might give it to tommy as a souvenir," suggested harriet. "never mind. i've thouvenirth enough as it ith. i've got thouvenirth all over my perthon," declared tommy. "you may have more before the day is done," chuckled jane, pointing to the heights that they were to climb that day. tommy eyed them askance. she did not fancy what was before her, but with a sigh of resignation went about getting her pack ready for starting. the other girls were now doing the same, janus passing on the packs after they had been made ready. to have a pack come open while climbing a steep mountain would mean the loss of almost everything in that pack. but the danger of this was not so great now as though the luggage were being carried on pack horses. the start was made in a leisurely manner. janus halted every little while to point out some interesting feature of the landscape, or to relate some legend of the past associated with this or that particular bit of mountain scenery. an hour had been occupied in this easy jogging before they came to the sheer climb that lay before them. this latter was more than a thousand feet, but the guide proposed to take the greater part of the day for it. there was no need for haste, as the journey could be made easily before night. as one gazed up the jagged side it did not seem possible that anything other than a bird could make the ascent. it looked a sheer wall from where the girls stood, the projections and jutting crags appearing perfectly flat to them. even harriet burrell and miss elting were a little dubious. "do you think it safe?" questioned the guardian apprehensively. "no. mountain climbing is never safe," replied janus. "it can be done, and easily at that, if that's what you mean. shall we go ahead or go back, miss?" "ahead, of course," the guardian nodded. janus got his line ready, a small but strong and pliant rope. he nodded to his party, glanced up for the most favorable starting point, then began to go up. the meadow brook girls followed in single file. miss elting bringing up the rear. now the guide passed the rope to them as the ascent became more precipitous. up and up wound the trail. the climbers kept a firm grip on the life line, for a misstep here would mean a bad tumble, and might take others down also. at times the girls were out of sight of each other, like the ends of a train rounding a sharp curve. the advice of the guide to "look up, never down," was followed by each one. in fact, none dared to look down, fearing to lose her head and grow dizzy. [illustration: up and up wound the trail.] "we rest here," announced janus, after they had been climbing for an hour without once stopping during that time. it was not a particularly desirable place in which to rest, being located on a steep slope, but the spot was surrounded by bushes, so that, when all came together and sat down, they could see nothing of the rugged mountain scenery about them. "better get out some biscuit or something to munch on, for we shan't find a place where we can cook a meal until we get nearly to the top. we'll have to rest hanging on by our eyelids after this," declared janus. "no more mountain climbing for me," declared margery. "this is nothing," chuckled the guide. "wait until you climb mt. washington." "wait until i do!" nodded margery with emphasis. "that is to be our next," miss elting informed them. "by the time we have finished that i think we shall be seasoned mountain climbers." "yeth. and we'll have the habit so badly that we'll be climbing telephone poleth every day when we get home," averred tommy. "i withh my father could thee me now. he wouldn't thay hith little girl wath lathy, would he?" janus got up and walked out where he could look about him. he stood stroking his whiskers reflectively, glancing critically at the rocks above; then along a narrow, barely indicated trail around the side of the mountain. he turned on his heel and returned to where his party lay stretched out on the rocks. there were rents in their clothing, their boots were scratched and cut from contact with sharp points of rocks, and the faces of the meadow-brook girls were red and perspiring. "i reckon we'll go around another way," decided janus. "it's too steep here. you'll ruin your clothes. no need of it at all. you will get just as much fun out of the roundabout way as by climbing straight up." at first the girls protested that they did not wish to take the easier way, but when he assured them it was just as hazardous, they were satisfied. "this new way we will see some scenery that is scenery, and you'll have a chance to look at it, which you wouldn't have in the straight-up climb. you see, you'd be too busy hanging on. i wanted to show you the 'slide' anyway," he added. "what ith the 'thlide'?" questioned tommy. "you will see when you get to it; one of the curiosities of chocorua, and a lively one. they say the indians used it when in a hurry to get down the mountain or to escape from their enemies. but, mind you, i don't expect any of you young ladies to follow the example of the indians. now, shall we move along?" interested in this new proposal, the girls sprang up, eagerly announcing their readiness to push on. janus led the way to the right, instead of following the perpendicular trail. the former trail led them around a jutting point of rock, then over boulders, irregular slabs and crags, obliging them to pick their way with caution and cling to the life line. they were now following a sort of spiral; for, though the party seemed to be encircling the mountain, they were rising gradually toward the blue dome of the summit. here and there a mountain bird, dislodged from its perch, would hurl itself out into space, giving the girls a start, and threatening, for the moment, their equilibrium. but they did much better than the guide had hoped for. greatly to his relief, he was not obliged to go to the rescue of a meadow-brook girl that day. about noon, however, margery brown got a blister on her right heel, and hazel turned one of her ankles. this put an end to the mountain climbing for the time being, but not to the hanging-on. the girls perched themselves behind rocks for support while the guardian was dressing the sprain and the blister. janus went on to look over the trail and pick out the easy places. while they were waiting for miss elting to attend to margery and hazel, the guide returned with an armful of dry sticks. "we aren't going to starve even if we can't move on," he cried cheerily. "i promised you that you shouldn't have a warm meal until we reached the summit this evening. i'm going to give you a surprise, though. now, what will you have?" "i think i'll have a thirloin thteak," answered tommy. "a cup of coffee will help me, i am sure," declared harriet. "i would eat the frying-pan handle if i couldn't get anything better," added jane. "mountain climbing is something like work, eh?" janus bolstered up his dry wood in a crotch formed by a jutting rock, and built a fire where one would scarcely have believed it were possible to do so. he got water from a little spring just above them, and by the time miss elting had disposed of her patients for the moment the water for coffee was boiling. but there was no setting of a table. to have put a dish down on that slope would have meant to lose it, and they had too few dishes to be able to afford to lose even one. the coffee was drunk without milk, though lumps of sugar were produced from each girl's blouse pocket and dropped into her cup with much laughter. they made the best of their circumstances; but when, about the middle of the afternoon, miss elting informed the guide that she did not think hazel's ankle would permit of her going any further that day, there was a flurry in the mountainside camp. the guide declared that they must go on until a suitable camping place were reached, but how he did not say until he had consulted his whiskers and studied the valleys below. he then gravely announced that he would carry hazel on his back. she promptly declared that she would not permit it, and miss elting agreed with her. then janus rose to the occasion by telling them that he would make a litter if one of the young ladies thought she could bear up one end of it. both harriet and jane settled the matter by declaring they could carry the litter with hazel in it. janus made the litter by first laying two ropes on the ground about eighteen inches apart. on these at right angles he tied sticks until the affair resembled a carrier belt on a piece of machinery. a loop with a stick rove into it was arranged at each end and a blanket was thrown over the litter, which was then pronounced ready. none of them ever had seen anything like it. the girls feared the litter would sag so that no one could ride on it without being dragged along the ground. janus said the advantage in a rope litter was that they could go around a bend with it and not break the side pieces, and, furthermore, that it was soft and had plenty of give. jane winked at harriet, hazel looked troubled, while tommy's face assumed a wise expression. "now for the start," called the guide, taking the front end of the litter, after all was in readiness. "the one who takes the other end had better not carry her pack, but lay it on the litter." "i prefer to have my pack on my back. i know where it is then," remarked harriet. "now, hadn't we better strap hazel to the litter?" proposed jane thoughtfully. "it is not necessary. there's no danger," declared the guide promptly. "all right, then," nodded harriet. "but, hazel, if you wish my advice, you'll take pains to hold fast." the leader of the meadow-brook girls lifted the loop over one shoulder, passing it under one arm with the end stick resting slantingly across her back. janus took up the other end after miss elting had carefully helped hazel upon the litter, which tilted dangerously. "be careful not to drop me," begged hazel. "it's a shame i'm so helpless that i have to be carried, though mr. grubb says it isn't far to the camping spot." "pick your way carefully, bearers," urged miss elting. "wait! let me get ahead of you," begged tommy, scrambling forward. "i don't like the lookth of that thing." miss elting and jane followed behind the litter, with which harriet and janus made good progress, though hazel had to do some clever balancing in order to keep the affair right side up. for nearly half an hour the two bearers bore their burden without halting. it proved easier work than harriet had expected, and perhaps that fact gave her too great assurance. the way was growing steeper and narrower, with sharp fragments of rock on the trail, and below them, alongside, the tops of dwarfed mountain trees. all at once harriet stubbed her toe, plunging forward and tilting the litter so that it turned turtle, like a cranky hammock. with a little scream of alarm hazel holland pitched out headfirst and took a graceful, curving dive into the top of a tree just below them. the others saw her feet disappear in the foliage, heard a muffled cry for assistance, then silence. chapter xv leaving the trail in a hurry janus was pulled from his feet. he pitched sideways, saving himself by grasping a projection with one hand; then, in his struggles to get up, both feet became entangled in the rope litter, and there he lay kicking and shouting to the girls to go after the unfortunate hazel. jane mccarthy already had got into action. without an instant's hesitation she clambered down the rocks and made her way to the base of the mountain tree. "she isn't here," shouted crazy jane. "what do you suppose has happened to her?" "wait! i'll be right with you," answered harriet. "she must be in the tree still," cried miss elting. "i hope she isn't hurt." "if she were not we should hear her." harriet was down the rocks, reaching the bottom not more than a minute behind jane mccarthy who was just climbing the tree. it was not possible to see far up into the tree on account of the dense foliage. harriet waited at the foot while her companion climbed it rapidly. "i've got her," jane called down. "she has fainted. what shall i do?" "get her down," urged miss elting. "i can't. she is fast." "wait! i will be with you at once," called harriet. "will some one bring a rope, please?" tommy, margery and the guardian were scrambling down the rocks. janus, having extricated himself from the litter, had picked it up and was on his way down to where hazel had fallen by another path. "consarn the luck!" he grumbled. "can't go a mile without something breaking loose. never saw anything like it in all my born days. anything wrong there?" "yes, seriously wrong," answered miss elting. "please send the guide up here. we can't get her out without assistance," called down harriet. "janus!" the guide stepped briskly at miss elting's incisive command. he shinned up the tree without loss of time. "well, i swum!" he muttered. hazel's injured ankle had caught in a crotch of the tree. she was lying across one of the thick lower limbs of the tree, unconscious and with blood trickling from her face. harriet was trying to get under her shoulders in order to lift her up somewhat and relieve the strain. janus crawled up to jane, who sat beside the unconscious girl. "well, i swum!" he exclaimed. "do something!" exploded jane. "do you want us to tell you what to do?" "no, miss; i know." "pardon me. i didn't mean to be rude. only get hazel out of the tree. she must have help at once. go down and help harriet lift her. i'll try to get her foot out of the crotch of the tree when you lift her off the limb. but be careful and don't lose your hold on her." "if you will come here and support hazel's shoulders i think i shall be able to do better by lifting her at the waist," suggested harriet. "i am afraid you had better remain down there, miss elting," she called as the guardian made ready to climb the tree; "there isn't room for all of us. besides, the tree might break. i don't know how strong these limbs really are. you might have one of the girls bring a blanket. there is one on top of the tree, but we can't get it." tommy climbed back to the trail, throwing a blanket down. in the meantime, jane had got down and was supporting hazel's head and shoulders. harriet braced herself, back and feet, against the limbs of the tree, both arms about the waist of the imprisoned, unconscious girl. janus was working cautiously at the captive foot. "raise her a little. whoa! hold her there." it was not an easy task for the two girls to follow orders in that instance, but they did, their faces growing red under the strain. hazel was moaning. "miss elting; the smelling salts!" called harriet. the guardian passed them up, jane grasping the bottle and placing it under hazel's nostrils. "lift a little more. that's enough." janus was working the ankle up a little at a time. "can you hold her?" "yes. tell us when you have freed the foot, please. you will have to steady her. hold her feet together, if possible. that will make it easier for us. we mustn't drop her." "one more lift and--whoa! it's free!" harriet knew that without his saying so. a sudden weight was thrown on her arms, nearly tipping her over. harriet's face grew red under the strain. glancing up, she saw that the injured foot was indeed free. "let go, jane, but watch her head to see that it doesn't get bumped." "you can't handle her alone, darlin'. better let me help you," counseled jane. "yes i can. but be ready to catch her in case anything goes wrong. please don't try to help her down to me, mr. grubb, you'll surely throw me over if you do," warned harriet. "miss elting, you and the girls hold a blanket to catch her if we should let her fall." space was so limited in the tree that everyone up there was laboring under great difficulties. "better let me get down there," suggested janus. harriet shook her head. she was slowly righting the now half unconscious girl, every muscle trembling under the strain she was putting upon it. "hooray!" cried crazy jane. "i swum, but she is strong," muttered janus admiringly. "i reckon----" he did not complete what he had started to say. a warning snap told him that something was giving way. harriet had heard and understood. she shifted her weight to one foot, but the combined weight of the two was too much for the limb. it broke from under her with amazing suddenness. "catch us!" screamed harriet. jane grabbed frantically for harriet and her burden as they came crashing down. but, instead of lending assistance, jane pulled harriet toward her just as the latter was reaching out one hand for a limb by which to break the fall. she missed the limb of the tree by an inch or so. jane's effort threw her off her balance also. the three girls went crashing down. "hold the blanket hard!" shouted harriet. then, with rare presence of mind, she let go of her burden. the object in doing this was that hazel might land on the upraised blanket and thus break her fall. harriet reasoned that she and jane were better able to take care of themselves than was hazel in her half unconscious condition. hazel reached the blanket first, but her fall was of such force that the blanket was jerked from the hands of miss elting and her two charges. however, the blanket had served to break the fall of the unfortunate mountain climber. the next instant the other two girls came tumbling down, but they fell feet first. "out of the way!" cried jane. harriet threw herself to one side in order not to fall directly on hazel, whom those below had had no time to get out of the path of the others. the result of harriet's throwing herself sideways was that she fell heavily on her side. she lay still. jane came straight down, reaching the rocks on all fours right over hazel. the shock was a severe one, and, for the moment, jane feared she had broken both wrists. miss elting dragged her aside, then drew hazel from beneath the tree. this move was made just in time, for at that juncture something else occurred: janus grubb lost his footing and came crashing down. janus landed in a heap on the gray blanket. the fall stunned him briefly. but no one gave any heed to janus. miss elting, tommy and margery were working over hazel. "look after harriet," directed the guardian sharply. "oh, my dear, are you hurt?" begged margery. "i--i don't know. my side hurts. let me lie still a little. i--i guess i shall be all right soon." "well, i swum!" grunted the guide, getting unsteadily to his feet. "i swum!" jane was sitting on the ground, a little dazed from her fall. she stood up and leaned against the tree; then, observing that harriet's face was pale, she staggered over and sat down heavily beside her friend. "oh, what a mess!" she groaned. "are you hurt, darlin'?" "no!" harriet sat up determinedly, but the effort gave her pain. she winced a little, but made no sound. "my kingdom for a motor car!" cried jane. "let me help you, harriet." harriet attempted to rise, but had to sit down again. jane slipped an arm about her waist and lifted the girl to her feet. "hadn't you better not sit down, darlin'?" "i feel better standing up. hazel isn't much injured, is she, miss elting?" "i can't find that there is anything very serious. i think she must have bumped her head in falling through the tree. she certainly has not added to the beauty of her face." hazel shook her head and essayed a smile. "did i fall gracefully?" she asked plaintively. "will you listen to her?" laughed jane. "you did it as gracefully as the lady who dived from the top of a house into a tank full of water at the county fair last year." "what i can't understand is why tommy should have missed such an opportunity to distinguish herself," smiled the guardian. "i thtood athide tho januth could dithtinguith himthelf," lisped tommy. "well, i swum! i did it, too, didn't i? i'm not fit to guide a plow, but i never found it out till i tried to pilot this outfit over the hills." "are thethe the hillth?" questioned tommy. "yes, miss." "then, excuthe me from the mountainth." "i believe my tumble has cured my sprained ankle," declared hazel. "i can't feel any pain at all there, except the smart where the skin is broken. let me put on my boot." miss elting slipped it on for her, and assisted hazel to her feet. "it is all right," cried the girl. "isn't that strange?" "yeth. thome thingth make thome folkth forget thome other thingth," observed tommy sagely. "have you forgotten your troubleth, harriet?" "i think so, tommy. i will race you up to the trail." "no; i can't rathe you up a hill, though i can fall down the hill fathter than you can, but i will help you up." "i'll do all the helping," janus informed them. "shall i carry miss holland?" hazel declared that she could walk and she did, with some assistance from miss elting. the others were able to take care of themselves, though harriet's side pained her frightfully with every step. she uttered no complaint, pluckily keeping her distress to herself, but the guardian knew by the expression on the girl's face that she was in pain. returning to the party a brief conference was held, at which they decided to proceed and make the "slide" if possible before dark. there was no possibility of getting beyond that, but on the following day it would be necessary to make all haste, for the provisions would not hold out for more than another day, and even then they would have to go on short rations for the last two meals. it was a used-up party that started for the "slide" that afternoon. had they but known it, they were destined to be still more weary before they retired that night. the excitement of the day was not by any means ended. dusk was upon them before they came out on more level ground and headed for the site chosen for their camp. chapter xvi "such a lovely slide" "i believe i am tired out," declared harriet laughingly. she sat down, then straightened and lay at full length on the ground. "thank goodness for a level spot on which to lay one's weary bones!" sighed margery, stretching herself beside harriet. there was moss over the rocks and it felt soft and restful to their aching bodies. hazel was not far behind the other two girls in lying down. the little company were quite ready to rest. "girls, you mustn't lie there without blankets under you," warned the guardian. "we are not going to lie here, miss elting," replied harriet. "we are going to get up at once and prepare supper for our hungry selves. oh, but my feet are tired!" "mine weigh a ton," declared margery. "yeth, i imagine they do," said tommy with a knowing nod. "you can go on resting if you like, harriet. jane, tommy and i can get the supper." "and janus," added the guide. "you've done finely, young ladies. i'd like to see any young men go through a hard day as well as you have. why, they would have been laid out along the trail from here to sokoki leap. we'd have had to send a couple of men with a stretcher to pick some of them up. let me tell you something. you are trotting janus grubb a lively race, and he isn't ashamed to say so. any one who says girls haven't as much pluck and endurance as boys may have an argument with janus grubb at any time." "thome girlth," corrected tommy. "yes, some girls. that's what i meant--you girls in particular. it's a pity all girls don't slant in the same direction. miss thompson, if you will pick out some stones for the stove i will rustle the wood. no, not that way. i swum! you'll be down the slide if i don't watch you." "the slide!" exclaimed the girls, turning eagerly to the guide. "yes. we're at it now. where'd you think we were?" "o, where is it?" questioned harriet eagerly. "come here, i'll show you. everybody that's able to walk come here, so you'll know where it is, then there won't be any excuse for your walking into it in the dark. there!" all they could see was a slight depression in the rocks. it was several feet wide, very steep and so smooth that its polished surface reflected the light from the match that the guide lighted. harriet tossed a stone over on the smooth surface. they heard it sliding and rattling down, terminating in a faint splash. "my goodness! is there water down there?" exclaimed crazy jane. "yes, a pond or a pool, whatever you wish to call it. i was telling you about the indians who used to take the slide here. i know two young fellows who took it just to be smart. one was unhurt but the other had to be fished out of the pool. he was taken with a cramp and almost died before they got him. but this slide isn't a circumstance to the one over on moosilauke. that one is nigh to a thousand feet long. that ends in a lake, too. i'd like to see any fresh young gentleman take _that_ slide." "harriet could do it," declared tommy. "harriet is not going to try it, my dear young friend," retorted harriet laughingly. "she has had quite enough falls to satisfy her. besides, she values her life, liberty and happiness." "how long is this slide, mr. grubb?" asked the guardian. "over a hundred feet," replied the guide, measuring the distance with his eye. "oh, what a lovely thlide!" bubbled tommy. "how funny it would be to thee buthter toboggan down that thlide! wouldn't that be funny, mith elting?" "all of you keep away from here," ordered the guide. "i'll lose my reputation if what we have already experienced gets out. nobody will want a guide who can't take care of his party better than i've done." "you aren't to blame," replied harriet. "it has been just meadow-brook luck, that is all. we always have plenty of excitement. why, it is tripping right along ahead of us all the time, though we do not always catch sight of it until too late to stop. we will keep away from the slide until morning. i want to see it before we leave, and so do the other girls. maybe we might have some fun bowling stones down it. are there any big ones that we may roll down, mr. grubb?" "there's a whole mountain of them." "hooray!" cried crazy jane. "we will have a rolling bee in the morning, and margery and tommy shall bring the stones for us." "yeth. buthter will fetch the thtoneth, too. it will be good exerthithe for her." "grace thompson, if you don't stop making remarks about me i'll never speak to you again as long as i live," threatened margery. tommy did not reply to this awful threat. she appeared to ponder deeply over it, then, edging up closer to her companion, gazed up into the latter's face with twinkling eyes. "do you mean that, really and truly?" "yes, i do." tommy shook her head. "i'm tho thorry i teathed you, buthter, but you know that you do need exerthithe," repeated tommy. "tommy!" expostulated margery hopelessly. "there! you did thpeak to me! you did thpeak to me!" cried tommy, dancing about and clapping her hands. "you didn't mean it at all. you thee, i knew you didn't really and truly mean it. oh, i'm tho glad!" she danced about until janus laid a heavy hand on her shoulder. "do you see where you're getting to? in a second more you'd have been taking the slide on your head." janus led her away from the dangerous spot. miss elting walked over to tommy and placed a firm hand on the shoulder of the heedless little girl. "tommy, why will you be so careless? you distress me very much," rebuked the guardian. "i'm thorry, mith elting. i'll try to be good after thith. but i didn't fall into the tree thith afternoon, nor out of it either, did i?" "her point is well taken," answered harriet. "nearly every one of us, except tommy, distinguished herself this afternoon. how about our supper?" "oh-h-h-h!" chorused the girls. "we forgot all about it." "yeth, mr. januth. i'll fetch the thtoneth for the thtove. you get the wood, and we will have a nithe, warm thupper and have a nithe vithit, and then a nithe thleep and pleathant dreamth. won't we, buthter?" "if you give us the opportunity," answered margery sourly. "thee! buthter thpoke to me again," chuckled the little, lisping girl. harriet took her by the arm and led her gently back to the campsite, which was now so enshrouded in darkness that they were barely able to locate their packs. harriet assisted tommy in getting stones of the proper size for their stove, after which these stones were piled and made ready for the fire that the guide was to start when he returned with the wood. little more could be done without light. hazel got the lantern from a pack, only to find that the globe had been broken. very soon, however, the cook-fire was snapping and crackling, the girls sitting near it with elbows on their knees. then came supper. it was wonderful what a difference there was in their appetites, now that they were out in the open, compared to them at home. but there was not as much to eat here as there would have been at home in meadow-brook. what there was seemed the best ever served to a company of hungry girls. supper over, it was not many minutes before the girls sought their beds. they were more tired than at any time on their journey, for this had been a day long to be remembered, the fifteenth. they would post it up in their rooms to look at every day through the winter and think of the excitement, the peril and the joys that marked that day of their vacation. the girls rolled themselves in their blankets, indian fashion, as before mentioned. they were beginning to enjoy this way of sleeping, wrapped up like mummies, feeling warm and comfortable in the soft blankets. no one who has not tried this method of sleeping in the open in cool weather can have the slightest idea of the blissfulness of it. of course, if there are insects they will find one. there were insects on chocorua and they found the meadow-brook girls, creeping over their faces, getting into their hair, but failing to find their way under the tightly rolled blankets. the girls were as wholly oblivious to the insects as to the chattering squirrels that leaped from one rolled figure to another, then off up the rocks, only to return again and take up their game of "leap" over the sleeping meadow-brook girls. the day had no more than dawned when tommy was awake, unrolling herself, but taking the precaution to see where the unrolling would land her. she had not forgotten her experience at sokoki leap, or the fall from the shelf into space. this ground was fairly level and there were no jumping-off places, except the slide. she was not rolling in that direction. freeing herself, tommy shook margery awake, then began calling her companions. janus sat up, took account of the time and lay back for another nap. "januth ith taking hith beauty thleep," observed tommy wisely. margery complained at being called so early; but when tommy told her they were going to skip stones down the slide, buster was all eagerness to be up and at it. the girls did not even take the time to wash their faces, but ran to the slide and gazed timidly down its slippery way. "come on. let'th get thome thtoneth," urged grace. she uttered a merry shout as the first round stone rolled down the slide, bumping from side to side, finally landing with a splash in the pond, sending up a little white geyser of spray. buster also began to take a more active interest in life. she, too, shouted as she sent a fair-sized boulder spinning down the incline. "my, what a racket!" cried jane. "harriet, shall we go join the game?" "i am getting ready as fast as i can. you had better remain quiet for a time yet, hazel." hazel said she would. miss elting also lay gazing up at the sky, following with her eyes the flight of the birds, many of which, high in the air, were soaring toward the east to meet the coming of the day. harriet picked up a boulder on her way to the slide, and, reaching there, sent it spinning with the wrist movement peculiar to bowlers. the boulder skipped some rods out into the pond far below them before it sank under the water and disappeared, leaving a white trail in its wake. "i can do that," declared tommy thompson. janus unwound himself from his blanket and stood with his hands in pockets, observing the jolly party. "don't lean over too far forward when you throw," warned harriet. "you jutht watch me. i'm going to make thith one thkip clear acroth the pond. here it goeth. oh, what a lovely thlide!" in her excitement, tommy leaped to the end of the slippery course, jumping up and down. in her left hand she held another round stone ready to send it after the previous throw before the latter should have reached the pond. margery was standing at hand ready to send hers down. "look out!" warned harriet, who saw the danger of grace's position. "get back instantly!" both she and jane started on a run, fearing the result of tommy's imprudence. but they were too late. tommy thompson's feet slipped from under her. with a scream she plunged head first to the slide, starting down it on her stomach. "catch her!" screamed jane. margery made a frantic effort to do so. then her feet, too, went out from under her, but in making a desperate attempt to recover her balance, margery turned completely around, landing on her back on the slippery slide. "hold your breath," screamed harriet, starting to run again, for she had halted instinctively as she saw the two girls lose their footing. jane followed. janus stood fairly paralyzed with amazement. it had all come about with such suddenness that he had had no time in which to collect his thoughts. when he did, he uttered a yell. "come back!" he roared. but the two girls were past coming back for the time being. the third girl, harriet burrell, was running toward the upper end of the slide, having made a short detour to enable her to get exactly in line with it. now she raised herself on her tiptoes, at the same time bending over and taking a low, shooting leap, dived headfirst to the slide, down which she shot at a dizzy rate of speed. "oh, she'll be killed!" crazy jane halted at the top, gazed down the long, slippery rock, then plumped herself down on the slide in a sitting posture. she was on her way before she found time to change her mind. when she did change her mind it did her no good, so far as changing the situation was concerned. a procession of meadow-brook girls was well started on a perilous journey, the result of which could not be foreseen by the three members of the party left in the camp. chapter xvii what came of shooting the chute miss elting had begun to unwind herself the instant her attention had been called to grace thompson's perilous position at the head of the chute. hazel holland also had rolled over to free herself of the blankets. but before either of them had succeeded in getting to her feet, tommy had taken the long dive, followed, as the reader already knows, by margery, and later by harriet burrell and jane mccarthy. "they'll be killed! oh, those girls!" wailed the guardian. "go after them, janus." "they are quite likely to be," observed the guide huskily. "i can go after them, but i can't stop them. there they are." they heard the splash--in fact, several distinct splashes--faint, it is true, but sufficient to tell those in the camp that the girls had reached their destination, the pond at the foot of the slide. janus already was racing down the mountain, jumping, stumbling, falling now and then, but making his way down as rapidly as possible. "remain here, hazel," commanded miss elting. then she, too, hurried down, making even better time than did the guide, for the guardian was more agile and much lighter on her feet. fortunately for tommy, she had been headed straight along the center of the slide from the beginning. the chute sloped somewhat toward the middle. tommy had instinctively kept her head up, arms thrust straight ahead of her. she began gasping for breath, and, either obeying harriet's direction or the instinct of the swimmer, she closed her lips tightly and held her breath. her little body flashed through a thick growth of bushes that hung over the chute at one point. she had seen the bushes coming at her like a projectile and instinctively lowered her head before reaching them. but she quickly raised her head again, uttering an exclamation, as the skin was neatly peeled from the bridge of her nose. "oh, thave me!" groaned tommy, as the pond rose up to meet her. she caught and held her breath. when she struck the water a sheet of it rose up on each side of her just as the water does at the launching of a steamship, only there was much less displacement in tommy's case. to her amazement she skimmed along the surface a few feet before she began to settle. unfortunately, at about that time tommy opened her mouth for a breath of fresh air. instead she got a mouthful of water. she began to kick and struggle. down went tommy, still struggling and kicking and striking out blindly, for the girl had not yet recovered from the shock. it was while she was down that another girlish figure shot straight into the lake. instead of skimming the surface this second figure came down on her back with a mighty splash, turned a half-somersault, landing on her feet, where she stood treading water and screaming. now a third figure shot down the chute. it took the water in a clean dive, going clear under, passing close by where margery was treading water and screaming for help. when harriet finally did come up, shaking the water from eyes and head, she was seen to be only a few feet from grace, who now was making a great splashing on her way to the opposite shore. tommy could not speak as yet, but she could swim, and swim she did. observing that tommy was not in immediate need of assistance, harriet turned back toward margery, who plainly was expending her strength without accomplishing very much. harriet was just in time to see jane mccarthy sit down in the pond. she made a great disturbance, added to which was a wild yell as she felt the water rising about her. jane went into the water over her head. margery, seized by a panic, forgot to tread water and went clear to the bottom. harriet, still gasping for breath from her long slide and the dive under water following, plunged ahead and dived again. she came up with the struggling, choking buster firmly gripped in one hand. margery was trying to grasp harriet, and the latter was experiencing some difficulty in keeping out of her clutches. tommy, in the meantime, had reached the other side of the pond and crawled up on the shore, where she lay complaining to herself, watching the struggle in the water with wide-open eyes. now and then she shouted a suggestion. "oh, my stars!" cried jane. coming up, she splashed about in the pond trying to get her bearings. then, seeing harriet's struggle with margery, jane headed for them in a series of porpoise-like lunges. the last reach brought a hand in contact with one of margery's feet. jane gave it a mighty tug. "put her under, put her under! that'll stop her!" shouted jane. "let go, jane," called harriet. "she is all right now. she has her bearings now. let us see if she has forgotten how to swim." harriet threw margery off. the latter splashed and floundered in the cold water, then all at once struck off for the shore. she reached it and scrambled to the bank, up which she staggered and sank whimpering to the earth. jane and harriet swam shoreward. jane was laughing almost hysterically. though she felt chilled and exhausted, harriet's eyes twinkled. the two struggled to the bank, there to sit down laughing. "are you safe?" shouted miss elting. "hoo-e-e-e!" answered the two girls. "are you all right, tommy?" harriet next called across the pond. "yeth, but i'm _almotht_ wet and cold. my clothes are thoaked, and there are ithicleth hanging from my eyebrowth. thomebody better thave me?" "come over here," proposed harriet, teasingly, "and we will." "i can't," tommy replied, with a shake of her head. "too many thraight, high rockth in the way." "swim across, darlin'," urged jane. "can't do that either, the water ith too cold." "then you'll have to stay where you are," laughed jane. "if you get hungry, come over and i'll give you a biscuit to take back there with you." "girls, i feel so relieved," cried miss elting, running down to join them. "but why did you do such a foolish thing?" "we came after tommy," replied miss mccarthy. "if that were foolish, we apologize." "tommy," ordered miss elting, "come here!" "i can't," complained the little one. "we'll have to go after her," sighed harriet, "or the little goose will stay there. miss elting, how would you like to take a nice, cool morning swim?" "no, thank you," replied the guardian, with a little shiver. "here is janus. you see that my girls are all valiant, mr. grubb." there was a note of pride in the guardian's voice. "well, i swum!" was the guide's greeting. "ye did do it!" "yes, sir; and i shouldn't mind doing it again. oh, it was such sport, miss elting. please, may we go up and have another slide?" begged harriet. "oh, goodness, yes. please let us," urged jane. "by no means. i am amazed that you should ask such a thing. i forbid it. please get tommy, if you are going to. she will stay there as long as we will wait here. i really don't know what i am going to do with tommy." "i wish you would do something, miss elting. she surely will be the death of me. think of me, with my weak heart, having to submit to such terribly exciting adventures," complained margery. "just listen to buster," chuckled crazy jane. "we must be so very careful of her." "well, i suppose we might as well get in if we are going to," decided harriet. "we can't be any wetter than we are, jane." "but we can be colder. all right. i'm with you." harriet dived in to get the shock over, coming up blowing. a splash followed hers and jane came up beside her, shaking the water from her head and ears. "my, but it's cold, isn't it, darlin'," she gasped. "cold as a snowbank," answered harriet. "i'll race you to the other side." "go you! now!" how the water did fly as they struck out in overhand strokes, shouting and laughing, cheered on by miss elting and margery, on the other side by the irrepressible tommy, who was dancing up and down on the shore, shouting and clapping her hands in great glee! the swimmers landed, laughing merrily as they made for shore. but they did not wait to argue with tommy. instead they picked her up bodily and tossed her into the pond. tommy screamed and tried to fight, but she had little opportunity for resistance before she went in with a splash. they sprang in after her, pulling the girl down, she having got to her feet in the meantime. "swim! swim, or we will hold your head under!" threatened jane. tommy refused to swim. "grab her foot. we'll tow her," commanded harriet. suiting the action to the word, she grasped one of tommy's ankles, and throwing herself on her back began to swim with feet and free arm for the opposite side of the pond. "hooray!" cried jane, making a couple of leaps forward, and getting a firm hold of the other ankle of the now loudly screaming tommy. "toot, toot! the tug is going ahead. how do you like being towed, darlin'?" tommy's yells indicated that she did not fancy it, especially being towed feet first. her head went under water almost instantly. tommy was obliged to help herself or drown. she began working her arms, trying to keep her head above water, but found it awkward swimming that way. she never had tried the feet first style of swimming. no one of the party ever had, except harriet, who could make very good progress that way. "hold your breath, dear," suggested harriet sweetly. "you will not swallow so much water that way." "how--how long must i hold it?" "not more than five minutes," comforted crazy jane. "thave----" she did not complete the sentence, because a volume of water rolled into her open mouth. they had nearly reached the middle of the pond, when harriet stopped swimming. "i am afraid we shall have to turn her around. tommy will persist in opening her mouth. we mustn't drown her," said harriet. jane righted their tow with a jerk. "those girls, those girls!" muttered miss elting, turning a laughing face to janus grubb. "well, i swum!" he answered, nodding. "never saw such a bunch of girls. are they always like they have been this time?" "always," chuckled the guardian. "usually more so." "well, i swum!" "will you swim, or will you drown?" demanded jane of tommy. "i'll thwim, i'll thwim," answered tommy chokingly. "i think you are horrid to treat me tho. i'll be even with you." jane started for her. tommy got into instant action, and how she did swim! harriet and jane were much faster swimmers than was tommy, but they pretended to have difficulty in keeping up with her and lagged behind until their shoulders were even with the kicking feet of the little, lisping girl. then they began grabbing at her ankles, drawing fresh shouts and protests from tommy. they teased her all the way to the shore, up which tommy staggered and ran to miss elting for protection. "don't make me all wet," objected the guardian, leaping back out of the way. tommy sat down and whimpered. jane and harriet picked her up, placing her on a seat made of their four hands, and started up the mountainside with their burden. "we aren't afraid of getting wet, are we, jane?" laughed harriet. "not this morning, we are not, darlin'," chuckled jane. but they did not carry tommy far. she decided that she would walk, fearing they were planning some trick on her. she had no desire to be dumped off on a steep place as hazel had been. the girls clambered up the mountainside laughing over their mishaps of the morning, and ran bounding into camp far ahead of miss elting and the guide. they found hazel very much excited over something that had occurred in the camp during their absence. chapter xviii faced by a fresh mystery there were serious expressions on the faces of the meadow-brook girls when miss elting and the guide came in. miss elting saw at once that something was amiss. she demanded to know what it was. "hazel saw something that frightened her," answered harriet. "saw something?" repeated the guardian, looking from one girl to the other. "tell it," urged harriet, nodding to hazel. "i was watching for you and the girls when i thought i heard something behind me. i looked around but saw nothing unusual. but i had a feeling that some one was about. i walked to the other end of the camp and back. i saw no one--nothing, i hadn't thought to look up. something made me do so just then and i saw it." "saw what?" demanded the guardian and the guide in chorus. "a man." "you did?" exclaimed janus. "where?" "he was behind those green bushes that you see up there--oh, he has gone. no need to go up there now, mr. grubb." janus had begun to climb the rocks. "yes. please wait and hear the rest of the story," ordered miss elting, who was deeply interested, but apparently undisturbed. "what sort of looking man was he, hazel?" "he wore a long, black beard, and--" "you are positive of this?" interrupted miss elting. "yes. i saw him plainly. that is, i saw his head and shoulders. the rest of his body was hidden behind the bushes. i was going to cry out, but i knew you couldn't hear me. there was too much noise down there, so i just stood still." "did he speak to you?" asked janus. "no. i spoke to him. i asked him what he wanted. he did not reply. instead, he dodged behind the bushes and ran. i could see, from the movement of the bushes to the right there, that he was getting away very rapidly." "did the man wear green goggles?" asked the guide. "no, sir. he wore no glasses." "of course not. we've got the green goggles," broke in jane. "but the whiskers! our enemy wore whiskers, didn't he?" "what do you make of this, mr. grubb?" questioned miss elting, eyeing janus sharply. "can't make anything of it. might be most anybody. a good many persons up in these parts wear whiskers." janus stroked his own reflectively. "and then again, a good many more do not, so i don't see that his whiskers prove much. wish i might have seen him. if you don't mind i'll go up there now and see what i can find." harriet said she would accompany him and assist in the search. "you couldn't recognize in him the man we saw on the station platform at compton the night of our arrival, could you, hazel?" asked the guardian. "oh, no. i don't believe it was the same person at all." "then we are no wiser than before, except that it behooves us to keep our eyes open. if that man has followed us into the mountains we shall hear more of him. do you find anything up there, harriet?" "we find where he has broken down some bushes, but that is all. no footprints. i might possibly pick up his trail, but over the rocks there would be slight chance of running it down." "i couldn't permit it," was miss elting's decisive reply. "come down. jane, will you please start the fire? we will have breakfast." "oh, yeth, we haven't had breakfatht yet," piped tommy. "nor have you dried your clothes. every one of you except hazel is wet to the skin." jane had brought some dry sticks by the time the guide and harriet returned. janus got more, realizing the condition of his party, and wishing to build up a fire that would dry their wet clothing. the girls had no changes of clothing with them. they would be obliged to continue to wear their wet dresses until these had dried. a hot fire proved a welcome relief. the girls gathered about it, turning frequently in order to give their clothing an opportunity to dry. it was not long before the steam rose from their rapidly drying garments. they laughed and joked over their condition. miss elting was more serious. she held a low-voiced conversation with janus while he was getting the breakfast. janus insisted that he had not the faintest idea that he had an enemy. at least he knew of no one who would commit the acts that had been committed since the party started out from compton on their journey through the white mountains. the girls' wet clothing was almost dry when they were called to breakfast. this meal was late on this particular morning, for good and sufficient reason, but the girls did not complain about this. what they did complain of was their bedraggled condition. they laid their trouble on this occasion directly at the door of tommy thompson. tommy was undisturbed. she expressed her pleasure, however, that her companions had also received a wetting, and uncharitably hoped they would fall in every time she did. during breakfast they discussed their situation, finally deciding to push on as soon after the meal as possible. the guide said they would feel dry and warm soon after starting on their way. he thought they would be better off on the move than sitting about the fire. hazel had now fully recovered from the effects of her fall. harriet's side still gave her pain, but she, too, felt that the best thing for her would be plenty of exercise. that forenoon she insisted on carrying hazel's pack, and did more real work on the trail than any other girl of the party. they were above the timber line, though there was little timber below it, the side of the mountain having been fire-swept long before that. the only green to be seen immediately about them were the blue-berry bushes and similar mountain vegetation that flourished in the crevices of the rocks. it was early in the afternoon when they emerged on the summit of the mountain and gazed off over its gray top, that, flanked by other domes of the sandwich range, reminded one of the past ages and the fascinating legends of the sokokis. the summit was rough and rugged, though devoid of big boulders such as are usually to be found in similar locations. "you are now three thousand five hundred feet in the air," announced the guide, rather proudly. "ith that what maketh buthter tho uppithh thith afternoon?" questioned tommy. "it may be what makes you so light-headed," retorted margery. "there! now, will you be good?" jeered jane. "yeth. that wath a good one. too bad you don't thay thomething bright every day. think what a lot more fun we would have, buthter." an hour was spent strolling about the summit, looking off at the magnificent scenery which stretched on all sides of them. a cup of coffee apiece was made and drunk, but fire-making material was so scarce that no attempt was made to cook a meal. about mid-afternoon the party was called to attention and directed to shoulder their packs preparatory to their long tramp down the mountain side to the shelter, where fresh clothing and food awaited them. they left the summit with regret. harriet said she would give a great deal to see a sunrise from there. "wait for mt. washington," answered janus. "i shan't tell you anything about it, but, once you are there, you will be glad you decided to climb it." instead of climbing down over the rocks the party took what is known among mountaineers as a "tote trail," a narrow pathway generally used for packing stuff into the mountains on the backs of human beings. this "tote trail" was a winding trail full of twists and turns and surprises, now appearing to end at some high precipice, then creeping around the corner of a huge jutting rock, but ever dropping and dropping farther and farther away from the summit and nearer to the "shelter," which was their destination on this occasion. twilight was upon them again before they reached the main tourist trail. it was now late in the season. not a human being had they seen since starting out to climb mt. chocorua except for hazel's discovery of the strange man whom she had caught spying on their camp at the "slide." the memory of that face still lingered in mind, nor had the incident been forgotten by any member of the party. they wondered what the next surprise would be. they were destined to know within a very short time. walking was good by this time and the remaining distance to the "shelter" was covered at a greater rate of speed. janus swung to the right, then to the left, and behold, the little hut stood darkly before them! "here we are," called the guide cheerily, striding over and throwing open the door. chapter xix the story the light told "strike a light, if you please," requested the guardian, as janus stood holding the door of the hut open for his charges to enter. "you'll have a light directly," returned the guide, applying a lighted match to the hanging lamp with its smoke-dimmed chimney. "oh, isn't it nice and cosy in here?" sighed margery contentedly, dropping down on a bench. unslinging her heavy pack, she let it fall to the floor. "what about supper?" was janus's first question. "yeth, that ith what i thay," approved tommy. "buthter would thay tho, too, only thhe is afraid i'll teathe her about eating." "afraid of you!" exclaimed margery disgustedly. "well, i guess not." during this passage at arms janus was making an industrious hunt for a frying-pan. he opened one of the packs that had been left behind, thrust one hand inside, then paused, a look of astonishment on his honest face, underneath the frown that wrinkled his weather-beaten forehead. for a few seconds the bewildered guide stared stupidly at the object he had taken from the pack. the girls were busy undoing their tote-packs, so they failed to heed what he was doing until his peculiar attitude finally attracted their attention. janus thrust his hand in again, but the result was no less discouraging. "well, i swum!" he grumbled. "i swum!" "so you've said before," smiled hazel. "anything wrong?" asked the guardian, glancing up from her own pack, the contents of which were spread out on the floor before her. the guide "swum" again. miss elting paused in her work, turning to him. "mr. januth ith troubled," observed tommy wisely. "what is it?" demanded the guardian. "what is it? it's a rock, miss." "what do you mean?" for answer he held out on the palm of one hand a chunk of granite, the while surveying it ruefully. miss elting took and examined the rock, then directed a look of inquiry at janus. "i don't understand," she said, with a rising inflection on the last word. "well, i swum! no more do i!" he exploded. "will you look into that pack and see what you find? maybe i can't see straight this evening. maybe i can't." harriet ran to the pack he had indicated and peered into it. she uttered an exclamation, loosened the rest of the binding ropes and turned the contents out on the floor of the shelter. exclamations of amazement fell from the lips of the meadow-brook girls. instead of the supplies that had originally been stowed in the pack, a choice assortment of stones, chunks of granite, small hardheads and pebbles rolled out on the floor. they were speechless for the moment. janus tugged nervously at his beard, too thoroughly astonished for speech. "i gueth thomebody hath been throwing thtoneth at uth," observed tommy thompson. "i wonder who liketh uth tho much that he wanth to knock our headth off?" "open the other packs," directed miss elting calmly. they did so, but with the same results. each pack was filled with stones, and, in some instances, pieces of wood, parts of limbs of trees, dirt, shale and the like. "oh, my stars, what a mess!" cried crazy jane. "did you not say that our equipment was perfectly safe here?" demanded miss elting, turning sharply on the guide. "i--i thought it was, miss." "then how do you explain this?" she asked with a comprehensive wave of the hand. "i don't explain it. i swum! i don't know what to think about it. i wish i could get my hands on the scoundrel." miss elting sat down to think. "it is plain that we have been followed into the mountains. the man whom hazel saw at the 'slide' undoubtedly is the one who has been causing us all the trouble. he may have been hovering about us all the time, we knowing nothing about it. i am afraid we aren't very clever, girls. we have allowed our enemy to outwit us." "i don't believe he has, miss elting," replied harriet. "if so, he has been watching us from a distance. we surely should have discovered if the man had come close to our camp." "it must have been the man that hazel saw, and i believe he was the one who dropped the green goggles," was harriet's emphatic declaration. "i wonder what his grievance is?" "all our stuff gone; we'll have to go back, won't we?" mourned margery. "we have our luggage, but that is some distance from here," replied the guardian. "how long will it take us to get to our supplies, mr. grubb?" "a day, or a day and a half, i reckon." "then we had better go for them to-morrow morning. we can do nothing more this evening. but--what are we to do for food?" "we have a little. we have some coffee and a spoonful of rice. that's enough. we can live another twenty-four hours or so on that. i'll fix up something now. maybe there's something in a cache back of the hut. i'll see." to their delight, janus returned, not long after that, with a small sack of flour and one of corn meal. it did not take the girls long to start a fire in the small cook stove. they threw open the windows, the "shelter" warming up very quickly. the girls began work at once, janus showing them how to make the kind of corn cakes that are popular with the mountain guides in the white mountain range. all the time harriet burrell was thinking intently over their situation and the loss of the supplies. she was considering the perplexing problems from different viewpoints, with a view toward solving them. "what did the thief do with our supplies?" she demanded, turning to the guide. "probably took them away with him. that's the way thieves usually do. otherwise, what's the use in stealing?" "i don't think so, sir. i do not believe this thief took the stuff because he wanted it, but rather to make you trouble." "maybe, maybe. it's all the same thing." "oh, no, sir; it isn't, not if he did not carry the stuff away with him. if he did not carry it away with him, what could he have done with it?" she regarded mr. grubb inquiringly. "i swum! i don't know," declared janus, looking deeply puzzled. "nor do i, but i propose to find out. is there such a thing as a lantern here, mr. grubb?" he shook his head. "better leave off everything else till we get some food. there's the coffee pot on the steps outside, where i put it, but the cream is all gone. we'll have to drink our coffee black." "yeth, and thtay awake all night," averred tommy. "but we don't care. we are used to thtaying awake all night, aren't we, jane?" "yes, darlin', we are," agreed jane brightly. "but i'm wishing i might lay violent hands on the rogue who took our belongings. where is that mr. sheriff for whom you sent to come and catch our friend of the green goggles and the black whiskers, mr. grubb?" "he'll be along in good time," replied the guide, stroking his own whiskers while regarding with squinting eyes the progress of the supper under the deft fingers of the meadow-brook girls. "here! let me do that. i reckon i can be finishing the supper while you young ladies get ready. there's a barrel of rain water just back of the hut where you can wash. you look as though you needed it--no offense intended." a merry laugh greeted the words of janus grubb. the girls agreed that they _did_ need it. their clothing was not in very good condition, either, but nothing could be done with the garments until they reached a spot where they could change them for fresh apparel. the girls ran out laughing, and a moment later were heard splashing in the rain barrel. they came in with dripping faces to get their towels, then, running out again, rubbed their faces until their cheeks glowed underneath their tan. tommy's freckles were now more pronounced than ever, but her usually pale face wore a healthy look and her eyes were bright and sparkling. supper was late that evening, nor was it a heavy supper when at last they sat down on the benches in the "shelter" with their cups and their corn cakes beside them, but they were as happy a party of girls as if sitting at a table laden with good things and sparkling with cut glass and silver. there were health and good-fellowship here; and there also was the pride of achievement, for these young girls had accomplished a great deal during the time they had been living their out-of-door life. they made merry over their scanty supper and finished with satisfied appetites. after supper harriet asked the guide to prepare some torches, saying she wished to look about to see if she could find anything. janus said there was no wood at hand fit for torches. no wood, no lantern--nothing save the smoky old lamp in the "shelter," and very little oil in that. janus said there had been a can of oil there a week before that, but that some one must have carried it off, can and all. "i'll hold the light for you if you want to dig," he offered. "yes, please do that," urged harriet. "i know where i wish to look. if you will hold the light out there on the edge of that bank of rocks i will go below. it is such a convenient place to throw things. tommy, look out that you don't throw your dishes over when you go out. i think i will just wash that chimney before we go any further." "whatever you do don't drop it!" exclaimed miss elting. "we cannot get along without the lamp." "we can build up a fire outside, if necessary. i rather think that would be a better idea still. what do you say, mr. grubb?" janus consulted his whiskers, then decided that the idea was an excellent one. he said he would go out and get some fuel for the fire, and did so. while he was thus engaged, harriet cleaned the lamp chimney, miss elting hung canvas over the glassless windows and the other girls washed and put away the few dishes that had been used. a fine, large fire was started on the ledge of rock that extended out from the "shelter" to a drop-off of some twenty feet. harriet was very much interested in the fire that night. then, after it was well started, she walked to the edge, and, with her back to the flames, peered down. all at once she started to run down the path to the left. she called to jane to come with her. they had to clamber over some rough ground in order to reach a point below the hut. the light from the fire made the shadows dance down there. "i saw something glisten down here," explained miss burrell. "i am certain it was a tin can. wouldn't it be fine were we to find our canned supplies down here, jane?" "then it is fine, for here's the very thing you were looking for." the irish girl stooped, then held up a tin can. harriet uttered a little exclamation and reached for it. "but it's empty," chuckled jane. "oh, fudge! some one has thrown it over. other picnic parties have been up here. besides, this is not one of our cans. but that doesn't mean we shan't find any of our own. look hard, jane." "i'm looking hard, so hard that my eyes ache," replied jane dryly. an instant later she cried out, "will you look at that?" harriet was at her side in a couple of seconds from the uttering of that cry. then she, too, raised her voice in a shout that called her companions from the hut. miss elting came out carrying the lamp. janus took it from her, and, standing on the very edge in the full light of the campfire, held the lamp above his head and peered down. "what is it?" cried the guardian. "we have found our canned stuff and a whole lot of our equipment," answered harriet triumphantly. "hooee-e-e-e!" shouted the meadow-brook girls in great glee. "wait! i'll be down there to help you gather it up," janus called down to them. "get the packs, girls," ordered miss elting. then there came an interruption that startled the girls into silence. something sped through the air over their heads, uttering a strange, weird woo-woo-woo! it passed, followed by a distant report, the crack of a rifle. then, all at once, the lamp that janus grubb was holding above his head crumbled into nothingness, the oil in the well of the lamp streaming down over the guide's head and face. chapter xx seeking a desperate revenge "lie down!" bellowed janus. "down!" commanded miss elting, in the same moment. janus moved more quickly than they ever had seen him do before. they did not think him capable of such rapid action. "look out below!" he roared, as, with a series of rapid kicks, he sent the burning sticks of the campfire tumbling over the edge into the little ravine below the "shelter." "get out of the light! come up here as fast as ye can! into the hut with ye, every one!" janus sprang from the rock and ran down the path toward harriet and jane. "what's the matter now?" demanded jane, who did not understand. "i don't know," answered harriet, herself a little startled. "i heard a gun fired twice. can it be that some one is shooting at us? oh, i hope not. but we must get out of here! mr. grubb, is that you?" she called, hearing some one floundering toward them. "it's grubb. get out of that." "what has happened?" begged harriet, hurrying to meet the guide, who came on a run to where they stood. "enough! did you hear the shots?" "yes." "well, one of them snipped the lamp. i'm greased from head to foot. the scoundrel!" "but--but perhaps they were not intended for you, mr. grubb," suggested jane breathlessly. "they were intended for me, all right. no mistake about that, young ladies. now, i want you to get into that shack on the double quick. i haven't a rifle, but i have a revolver that's good enough to take care of anything that gets close enough. don't make too much noise; there might be another shot." "i think not, if we do not start any more fires. i have an idea that the shots were intended for you, mr. grubb, not for us. if so, the man will not shoot again in the dark, fearing to hit one of us." "well, i swum!" grunted the guide. harriet's guess seemed very plausible. he led them quickly up the path, and, reaching the top, hurried them into the cabin. janus got his revolver, and, after loading it, slipped some extra cartridges into a pocket. "i don't want anybody to come out again to-night," he ordered. "you go to sleep, when you get ready, and i'll sit outside to watch for the rascal in case he comes prowling around later." "spread your blankets on the floor and sit down," directed miss elting. "i don't think we are quite ready for bed yet. we do not know but there may be more shots, though we aren't going to be afraid, are we, girls?" "no, we are not, miss elting. why should we be? being afraid doesn't help us one little bit." so the girls seated themselves on their blankets, and in low tones talked over the series of mysterious occurrences that had marred an otherwise happy journey to the mountains. they wondered what wrong their enemy might feel had been done him to make him thus vengeful. the girls did quite believe that the man of the green goggles, miss elting's caller, was either directly or indirectly concerned in the various mysteries, but that was as far as they could go toward a solution. one by one the campers rolled up in their blankets and went to sleep. janus held his position in front of the "shelter" throughout the night, but nothing occurred to disturb the camp until nearly three o'clock in the morning. then two quick shots, fired seemingly right over their heads, brought the meadow-brook girls out of their sound sleep, uttering little exclamations of alarm. harriet sprang out through the open door without an instant's hesitation. "where is he? what did you shoot at?" she questioned apprehensively, fixing searching eyes upon the guide. miss elting repeated the questions a few seconds later, she having joined harriet. the guide stood with revolver still pointed toward the tote-trail, ready to shoot at the slightest movement. in the faint light the two women could see a shadowy something that appeared to be standing beside the trail. "there! see him? i swum, i don't understand it," muttered the guide. "i fired in the air to scare him." "where is it? what do you mean?" questioned the guardian. "him! i looked and he wasn't there, then i looked again and there he stood, right where you see him now. then i shot into the air twice." harriet burrell burst into a merry shout. she laughed and laughed until her companions, taking fresh courage, ran out, demanding to know what was so funny. tommy declared that she would give almost anything to be able to laugh that way at that particular moment. neither did miss elting understand the meaning of this sudden merriment, but she knew that harriet had discovered something. janus regarded the girl frowningly, all the time keeping one eye on the faintly outlined figure out by the tote-trail. "laugh, consarn it!" mr. grubb growled, beginning to feel that, in some way, he had made a shining mark of himself, rather than appearing in the role of a hero who had valiantly defended his party of young women. "what is it, dear?" asked the guardian. "don't you know what that is?" queried harriet. "no. it looks to me like a man leaning against something," answered miss elting. "yes, yes," interposed the guide. "when i first shot at it it was standing straight up, then it tilted over against the rocks, and there it is. you get back. i'll go over. if he shoots, you won't be in any danger." "oh, nonsense!" exploded harriet. "put your pistol down. don't you dare to point it toward me. i'll lay your intruder." the girl ran forward, unheeding the warning cries of her companions. she ran straight to the object that, in the uncertain light, so closely resembled a human figure. the girls were begging harriet to come back. instead she boldly grasped the object with both hands, and threw it across the trail. a chorus of "ohs!" greeted this performance. janus lowered his weapon, his under jaw dropped. he followed miss elting, while the girls followed them both at a safe distance, tommy and margery ready to take flight at the slightest indication of danger. "here he is, mr. grubb," cried harriet. "harriet, what is it?" demanded miss elting. "just a plain, rotting old tree trunk," returned the girl. "but--but it wasn't there before," stammered the guide. again harriet laughed. her companions gazed at her admiringly. none, unless it were jane mccarthy, would have had the courage to go out there as harriet burrell had done. they told her so, too, at which harriet laughed again. "let me tell you something," said harriet. "i'm not a bit braver than you are. as it happened, i knew what that was the instant i saw it. the tree trunk was not standing there when we came into camp last night. had it been, mr. grubb would have seen it. the trunk had fallen across the trail. when i started to go down below to look for our supplies i stumbled over the stick, and to prevent some one else tripping over it, i threw it out of the trail. the stick ended over and stood upright against the rock where you saw it. i presume mr. grubb did see it tip to one side. i know, however, that the stick has been there ever since i tossed it out of the trail last night." "well, i swum!" muttered janus sheepishly, "i'm so easy it's a wonder i haven't lost myself." "no, you were doing your best to protect us," replied miss elting. "but i would rather you did not shoot again except in real defence. in other words, don't shoot unless some one shoots at you." "what am i going to do?" demanded the guide rather crossly. "sit down and allow some outlaw to rob us at every turn?" "we know you are ready to defend us," pacified miss elting. "what would you advise us to do?" "make no further move until morning. when daylight comes we will get up the stuff that has been thrown over there, make up our packs and start for mt. washington," returned janus promptly. "i'll reach a telephone before long and send word to the sheriff about what has occurred. he may be out already on the bridge matter, but he ought to know about this last affair. it will give him a clue as to where the man is." "but the unknown wretch may follow us," protested the guardian. "he won't. he's gone into hiding after what has happened. you won't see any more of him. you see, he knows we shall be on the lookout for him, and he won't be taking any chances on it until a day has passed--perhaps about to-morrow night--then he may come back here to see what he can find. i am banking on that, after having thought the matter over. we won't be here, but the sheriff will, if i can get hold of him." miss elting agreed that the guide's plan was as good as could be devised, and promptly directed the girls to return to the hut and, if possible, sleep for the few remaining hours of the night. that morning the girls overslept. by the time they awakened, janus had gathered together all the supplies and equipment to be found below the hut. some of the provisions were missing. nothing that would be likely to be recognized by the owners had been taken by the man who had thrown their stores overboard, so to speak, so they found themselves better off than they had hoped. a real breakfast was eaten that morning, after which packs were lashed and the party lost no time in starting to leave the mountain that had furnished them with so much excitement. the journey down the trail was not a long one. after reaching the foot of the mountain they were obliged to travel nearly ten miles before reaching a village from whence they would go on by wagon until reaching the point whence they were to be conveyed to mt. washington. that night found them weary and sleepy, but to stay at a hotel which boasted of all modern conveniences was a welcome change to the mountain climbers, who were both footsore and weary. it seemed but a few moments after retiring before they were called to get ready for breakfast and the long ride to the foot of the mountain, up which they were to climb. their experience on mt. washington was to be both novel and exciting. chapter xxi the ascent of mt. washington the supper smoke rose lazily in the still air. below them lay a vast panorama of valley and now flattened hills. the meadow-brook girls, after a day of hard climbing, were about half way to the summit of mt. washington. they had chosen the most difficult climbing to be found in the white mountain range. janus had promised them some real mountain climbing when they reached mt. washington, and he had made good his word. they admitted that laughingly upon reaching the spot he had chosen for their night's camping, and willingly permitted the guide to start the fire while they rested preparatory to getting the supper. "at least we have the satisfaction of knowing that we have left our friend of the green goggles behind," said miss elting, with a sigh of relief. "i hope we have seen the last of him. he certainly tried to spoil our trip." "sheriff's out on the trail," answered janus. "there's trouble of some sort down there. sheriff's office said things were popping, but wouldn't talk much because he--the fellow i got on the telephone--didn't know me. funny not to know me, wasn't it?" "yeth," answered tommy. "what did you conclude from what was said?" asked miss elting. "that they were after some one and knew who it was. i hope they get him. i hope that, when they do, they give janus grubb a chance to tell the fellow what he thinks of him." "it may not be the man we think at all," suggested the guardian. "no-o-o-o," drawled the guide reflectively. "if not, what do you propose to do?" questioned harriet. "why, keep on, of course," answered the guide, in a tone of mild surprise. "to-morrow we reach the top of mount washington; then we go down the other side, and so on till we get through." "all of which isn't getting our supper," harriet reminded him laughingly. "jane, will you please shave some of the smoked beef? and don't spoil your appetite by nibbling, please." "why, darlin', i never did such a thing. it was the beef that flew right into my mouth. now, what could poor jane do under such circumstances, except to swallow hard?" "nothing but thubmit grathefully and thwallow the beef," commented tommy. "and i did just that," grinned jane. their table was a rocky shelf elevated about ten inches above the ground and standing on a sort of standard, so that the girls were able, by sitting down beside it, to tuck their feet under the rock, which made an excellent board for the purpose. the night had not yet fallen, but shadows hung over the valleys and the distant mountains, the purple tinge creeping slowly up the side of the mountain which they were climbing, enveloping the campers before they had finished eating their supper. the evening, on the side of the mountain in their comfortable camp, was a delightful one. they sat on their blankets beside a blazing campfire amid the great silence, broken only by the voices of the campers and the occasional cry of a night bird. janus, after having made a thorough patrol of the ground surrounding the camp, returned to the campfire and entertained the girls by telling of the early indian days, stories that had been handed down by generations, and that had grown and grown until they had assumed startling proportions. all at once harriet, in the midst of one of these remarkable tales, tilted her head back, her eyes apparently studying the stars that hung over the mountain range to the south of them. she gazed thoughtfully. after a few seconds of this, she shifted the position of her head, supporting the latter with her clasped hands. after remaining in this position for several minutes the girl got up, yawned and began walking slowly back and forth, the while listening to the guide's story. "harriet, are you nervous or tired?" questioned the guardian, eyeing her shrewdly. "i believe it must be nerves," answered harriet laughingly. she strolled off into the shadows, there to sit down on a rock within easy sound of the voices of her companions, who soon forgot that she was not among them. after making sure that she was safe in doing so, she slid slowly from the rock, and walking on all fours ran away into the bushes and out of sight. it was a most unusual thing to do. had crazy jane been guilty of such an act, nothing would have been thought of it, but had harriet burrell's companions observed her they would have opened their eyes in amazement. fortunately, they were too fully occupied with janus grubb's story. harriet sat down on the ground, after having moved away some two hundred yards from the camp. "i hope they don't miss me," she thought. "i hope, too, that i haven't been seen. now i will try to see something for myself." the girl sat perfectly still, with ears more than eyes on the alert. harriet had not been in her position very long before her ears caught a faint sound directly ahead of her. still she did not move, except to raise her head a little. a bird hopped into a bush close at hand without discovering her presence. the faint noise ahead grew more pronounced, the whip of a bush as it was released by the hand that had pushed it away was heard and understood. harriet burrell was woodsman enough to recognize all such sounds instantly upon hearing them. she crouched low, fearing that the intruder might approach close enough to discover her. every faculty was on the alert. who or what the unseen intruder might be, of course, harriet did not know. it might be a mountaineer who, seeking camp for the night, was first doing a little investigating to satisfy himself that he would be welcome. then, again, it might be a different sort of visitor. harriet's attention was distracted by a burst of laughter from the camp of the meadow-brook girls. then there followed a long-drawn "hoo-e-e-e!" that she knew was meant for her. "harri--et!" it was margery who was calling. harriet groaned under her breath. were her companions to persist, were they to get an idea that she had strayed from the camp, her quest would come to a sudden end, for the guide and his charges would soon be piling over the rocks, searching and shouting for her. it was miss elting, however, who, quick to understand, quieted margery brown. "harriet will return presently," said the guardian. "please go on with your story, mr. grubb." janus continued. the next moment harriet burrell was forgotten by her companions once more, for which forgetfulness the girl out there in the bushes was duly thankful. the movement in the bushes, which had abruptly ceased, following the call, had not been resumed. this worried her somewhat. if the person out there were in the least a woodsman, he would know that some one of the party was out of the camp and would be on his guard. this might defeat the plan she had in mind. but there was only one thing to do, that was to remain in her present hiding place, keeping prudent silence and awaiting results. this was what harriet did. she crouched there fully fifteen minutes after the interruption from the camp before the presence of another person was again revealed. a sound so close that harriet barely repressed an exclamation of surprise caught her ears. the girl for a few seconds held her breath. she could hear the beating of her heart so plainly that she feared that the other person might hear it as well. there followed another period of silence, but much more brief than the previous one. it was then that harriet burrell was able to distinguish the figure of a man--that is, his head and shoulders. the night was too dark to enable her to do more than decide upon what it was. now he began creeping cautiously toward the camp, going only a few paces at a time, then halting to listen. harriet moved with him, though not so fast. she was stepping directly toward the camp, which lay directly ahead of her, whereas the man was following a different course with the same destination in view. when he moved, harriet moved; when he halted, she did so. halting a second too late would undoubtedly reveal her presence, hence the girl exercised unusual caution, making little more disturbance than a cat stalking its prey. once she sank down noiselessly when, by a movement of the head and shoulders, she discovered that the man was turning to look behind him. "if he gets within sight of the camp he will see that one of the party is missing, if he knows how many of us there are," reasoned the young woman shrewdly. "i must be on my guard when he discovers that, or something may happen." harriet might have called out to warn her companions, but that was not a part of her plan as yet. about seventy-five yards had been traversed in this manner when a sudden change came over the scene, for, between harriet burrell and the intruder whom she was stalking, the camp of the meadow-brook girls was soon to be thrown into wild turmoil and the young woman's utmost expectations were to be more than realized. chapter xxii a rout and a capture the intruder had halted. harriet knew that from his position he could see the camp. from her position it was not visible. she saw the man halt, peer, then suddenly straighten up and glance about him apprehensively. being now between her and the light shed by the campfire, the girl was able to observe his movements quite clearly. "he suspects something," quivered harriet. but being at a loss as to what to do next the girl dropped swiftly to the ground, rising almost the next second. she was leaning well forward, peering at the figure with all the concentration she could bring to bear. the intruder had by this time again directed his attention to the camp. there was now in the man's hands something that he seemed to be leveling over the tops of the bushes amid which he was standing. harriet burrell drew her right hand cautiously above her shoulder. that hand held a stone. suddenly the stone cut through the bushes about a foot to the right of the intruder's shoulder. he jumped, but before he could decide upon what his next move should be a second and larger stone smote him between the shoulders. then followed a perfect rain of stones. some hit him, others did not. there was but one way by which the man could get away without turning back and facing this unseen peril. that way was almost straight toward the camp. he hesitated. a large stone grazed his cheek. the fellow leaped through the bushes. something was swept from his hands by the bushes and fell to the rocks with a clatter. the girls in camp heard the sound. "harriet, what are you doing?" called jane. "look out!" shouted harriet. she started in pursuit of the fleeing man, sending a shower of missiles after him. some of the stones dropped to the rocks back of the camp, rolling into the camp itself. then, to the amazement of the meadow-brook party, a man darted across a corner of the lighted space, which he cleared in half a dozen leaps and bounds, harriet still hurling stones after him and shouting her warnings to her companions. the girls fled from the campfire, crying out in alarm. janus, for the instant, was overcome with surprise, but he pulled himself together sharply, running to his pack and snatching up his revolver. "it's our man!" cried harriet. "i made him run." "thave me!" wailed tommy, throwing herself flat on her face behind a rock. janus had clattered down the rocks after the intruder. the guide's revolver began to speak. he was firing wildly, not being able to see the man, who either had got safely away, or else was in hiding behind one of the many rocks and projections. it did not seem as if he could have run down the mountainside at the rate he was going without falling and breaking his neck. the guide fired his revolver into every dark recess that he thought might afford a hiding place for the fugitive. then he loaded up and emptied his revolver a second time. by this time the camp was almost in a state of panic. miss elting spoke sharply to the girls, commanding them to stop their shouting and to come back. "mr. grubb, if you keep on shooting you will have no ammunition left," the guardian warned him. "besides, i would rather you wouldn't shoot any more. we don't know that this man is the one we suspect." janus broke his smoking revolver and ejected the exploded shells, after which he recharged the cylinder and put the weapon back in his pocket. he returned to the campfire, holding his hat in one hand, with the other hand brushing the perspiration from his forehead. "well, i swum!" he muttered. "i swum!" "harriet, we will hear your explanation. why didn't you tell mr. grubb in time, so he could look after this fellow?" demanded miss elting. "you knew there was some one about some time before you got up and walked away, didn't you?" "i thought i heard some one. that was the reason i strolled off by myself." "so i supposed," commented the guardian. "had i said anything the person would have cried out and given the alarm. i wanted to satisfy myself that i was right, and i was." "i should say you were!" "yeth, and he had black whithkerth, too," interjected tommy. "he wore a soft hat pulled down over his face," added margery. "i believe it is the same man," said the guardian reflectively. "get back out of the light, ladies, please," urged the guide. "we will let the fire burn, but we had better keep out of the light. the man may have a gun." "no, he has not," spoke up harriet. "what was he doing out there?" questioned miss elting. "spying on the camp, then getting ready to shoot. i think he was going to shoot mr. grubb," was the startling declaration. janus gripped his whiskers with all the fingers of the right hand. he gave the whiskers a tug that threatened to thin them out. "shoot me?" he roared. harriet nodded and smiled. "but i thought you said he had no gun," objected miss elting. "he hasn't now. i have his gun," answered harriet with a twinkle in her eyes. "yes, it is a rifle. i am glad we have it, for, from the present outlook, we shall need it." she stepped away and from a rock picked up a repeating rifle. this the intruder had dropped. harriet had picked up the weapon and taken it to camp, laying it down to continue her stone-throwing. she had forgotten all about the gun until the excitement had subsided somewhat, and miss elting and the guide had begun questioning her. janus took the rifle, turning it over in his hands, examining it with critical eyes. "modern gun, thirty-eight calibre, repeating," he muttered. "well, i swum!" "do you recognize it?" asked the guardian. janus shook his head. "of course, you will keep it for the present." "until the owner calls for it, miss," replied janus grimly, whereat there was a giggle from margery. "tell us how you discovered the man. let us have the whole story," urged miss elting. harriet related briefly how she had discovered the stranger and all that followed until she had driven him into the camp, as she had hoped to be able to do, believing that janus would be able to capture the man. had janus been a more active man and quicker of wit, he undoubtedly would have been able to catch the fellow; however, by the time the guide had collected himself, the intruder had disappeared. miss elting was vexed at janus's inactivity, but it would do no good to say so. janus had done the best he could and had wasted more than a dozen bullets among the rocks of mt. washington. they had the stranger's gun, therefore she was reasonably certain that their enemy could do them no further harm that night. still, it was thought best to have mr. grubb remain on watch for the rest of the night. harriet offered to do this, but the guide would not listen to such a proposition, nor would miss elting. while they were discussing the incident he kept his eyes on harriet almost continuously. wonder and admiration were plainly to be seen in their expression. some time elapsed before the camp of the meadow-brook girls settled down. they felt even more secure, knowing that harriet had captured the intruder's rifle. it was not believed that the man possessed another, so there was little danger of further shooting that night. at the suggestion of the guide, and the further orders of their guardian, the girls rolled in their blankets and soon were asleep. they were awakened, shortly after twelve, by a shout from the guide. then followed a volley of quick shots and a warning cry from janus grubb. chapter xxiii a mysterious disappearance "quick, girls!" shouted miss elting. "thave me!" screamed tommy thompson. harriet opened her eyes in time to see janus running rapidly from the camp, firing his revolver at every jump. after his second shout of warning he was not heard to speak again. for a moment or so they could hear him crashing through the hushes, now and then firing his revolver, probably when he caught sight of the man he was pursuing, the intruder having no doubt returned, perhaps hoping to be able to catch the camp asleep, thus giving him an opportunity to recover his rifle. the girls unrolled themselves from their blankets as quickly as possible. harriet started to follow janus. "come back!" commanded miss elting. harriet halted abruptly. "please let me go," she pleaded. "by no means! how could you ask such a thing? let janus attend to matters of this sort. we must look after ourselves here. the man may return." harriet burrell still stood where she had halted. her head was bent slightly forward. she was listening. not a sound could be heard now from the pursuing guide. "hoo-e-e-e-e!" called harriet. but no answering call came back to her. she still kept her position until the guardian called to her. harriet then walked slowly back to her trembling companions. jane and miss elting were no more frightened than harriet. they did not know, however, what had occurred to disturb janus, and could only surmise. harriet stirred the fire, throwing on more dry boughs and brush until a crackling blaze had sprung up. she was more disturbed than her expression indicated. in the meantime miss elting had satisfied herself that nothing had been taken from the camp, which knowledge served in a way to relieve her. however, as the moments passed, and nothing further was heard from the guide, the others of the meadow-brook party began to feel a vague alarm. they could not believe that anything had happened to janus, nor could they understand why he should remain away from the camp so long. jane and harriet "hoo-e-e-ed!" until they were hoarse, but no reply followed their calls. half an hour passed; then an hour, during which time everybody walked nervously about the camp. "miss elting, something serious must have occurred to mr. grubb," declared harriet. "oh, goodness, more mystery!" exclaimed jane. "please, let jane and myself go out to look for him. he may have been shot, he may be suffering, or----" "no! not a girl may leave this camp," replied the guardian firmly. "but what if mr. grubb is in trouble?" protested harriet. "would it better the situation were any of you girls to get into the same difficulty? no, i could not think of it. besides, i believe mr. grubb will return in good time. we do not know but he may be hiding, hoping to catch the one he went out after. if so, you would be interfering with, perhaps defeating, the very plan he has in mind. no, girls; you will stay here." there was no more to be said. miss elting's word was law with her charges. harriet and jane submitted without further protest, but this did not lessen their concern over the continued absence of the guide. of course, there was no more sleep in the camp that night. the party sat down, always keeping out of the firelight, harriet and jane doing guard duty, walking about the camp some little distance back. harriet had the rifle. the possession of this gave them a feeling of greater security than otherwise would have been the case. she kept the rifle in her hands during all the rest of the night. dawn found the girls pale after their long vigil following the exciting incidents of the evening. but daylight served to bring back their failing courage. harriet put down the rifle at the first suggestion of morning light. jane gathered fresh fuel for the fire and a roaring blaze warmed them up, for the morning on the mountain was very chill. "come, girls, get breakfast," directed miss elting. "we must eat. afterward we shall consider what is to be done. the situation demands careful thought, then action. we cannot go far without our guide." they knew that. breakfast was prepared in some haste that morning. while eating they discussed their predicament, finally coming to a decision. it was decided that they should try to follow the guide's trail, spreading out so as to cover the ground thoroughly. in this formation they would continue until they either found him or failed. there seemed no other course to take. the guide's pack was distributed among the girls. it made quite a load for them, but harriet and jane carried more than the others, in addition to which harriet carried the captured rifle. an examination of the magazine showed that there were ten cartridges in it, quite sufficient for any likely needs of theirs. before starting out harriet raised the rifle with the muzzle pointing skyward. "don't be frightened, i'm going to fire a signal," she announced. margery screamed, despite the warning, when a crash woke the echoes. after an interval of a few seconds harriet fired two more shots in quick succession. this was a signal. all listened, but no answering shot was heard, nor any shout to indicate that the signal had been heard. "we will move on," announced the guardian. "keep within calling distance. harriet will take the trail from the camp; the others will spread out on either side." harriet burrell started a little in advance of the others, beginning at the point where she had seen janus disappear. for a time it was somewhat difficult to follow the trail, because of the trampling the bushes had had on the evening before. however, after a short time the trail stretched away, clear to the eyes of an experienced woodsman. there were broken bushes here and there; that was all, though enough for one who knew how to use her eyes. "i have found the trail," called harriet; "it is turning to the east." this she knew was to enable the pursued to make better time in getting away. after a short distance the trail turned upward, then led to the east again. bushes were getting more scarce. only occasional clumps of them were to be found, making the work of following the trail much more difficult. two hours of climbing, with frequent periods of hunting for the trail that had lost itself, brought them to the end of their resources. the trail, at first so plainly marked, had, as a famous woodsman has said, "petered out into a squirrel track, run up a tree and disappeared into a knothole." on every side were almost barren rocks, though below and further to the east the mountain vegetation showed thick and green, dropping away into ravines here and there, the surface being more uneven than anything they had yet encountered on this particular mountain. still further below, the mountainside appeared to be quite heavily wooded. "i believe we should look into that," said harriet, indicating the lower part that was covered with green. "we may find some clue to the whereabouts of our guide." "we might get lost there," answered the guardian. "but--we have only to go down. we can't possibly get lost if we do that. going down will lead us to the foot of the mountain, and out into the open once more," urged harriet. the guardian smiled. "how silly of me not to have thought of that. i am beginning to think that my pupil knows more about outdoor life and woodcraft than i ever dreamed. if you think best, harriet, we will look down there. in the meantime i would suggest that one of us remain in this vicinity to make a more thorough search." harriet offered to do this, so it was agreed that the rest of the party should head obliquely down the mountain while she worked back and forth, like a switchback railway, until she, too, had reached the objective point where the others would be waiting for her. this programme was carried out, beginning immediately. not a trace, however, did she find of the lost trail. while awaiting her arrival the others of the party walked back and forth along the edge of the thick growth, but with no better results than had attended the search made by harriet burrell. at noon they stopped for luncheon, then followed the same method as had harriet, moving east and west, ever enlarging their field as the growth increased in area. night found them far up on the mountainside still facing the mystery of the disappearance of the guide, whom the girls earlier had named "the pilot of the white mountains." he was no longer a pilot, but in need of one. it was not a particularly cheerful party of girls that sat down to a supper of rice, corn cakes and coffee that evening. it was arranged that harriet should take the early part of the night watch, jane mccarthy the last half, for they dared not leave their camp unguarded. a huge fire was built that sent a glow high above the foliage of bushes and second-growth trees, visible for a long distance. this was done with a purpose. the girls hoped that, were janus within sight, he might see the light and be guided to them. the blaze did serve to attract the attention of others whom the girls were to see before the night was ended. harriet's vigil was not a lonely one to her. she always found comfort in nature, no matter how dark or silent dame nature's mood might be. she drew back a short distance from camp so that her moving about might not disturb her companions, remaining quiet until they had finally gone to sleep, after which she began strolling back and forth. she had been on guard for something more than two hours when she was startled by three shots from somewhere lower down the mountain. harriet pointed her rifle into the air and promptly pulled the trigger twice. two heavy reports from her rifle caused an instant commotion in the camp of the meadow-brook girls. the girls untangled themselves from their blankets and sprang up very much frightened. their nerves were on edge after all they had experienced, and these shots, fired so near at hand, had sent at least three of them to the verge of panic. "are we attacked?" cried jane. "we may be," answered harriet. "hurry and get yourselves together. some one besides ourselves is in the mountains and we must be ready for whatever comes. i don't know what it is. hurry, please! we may have to leave here very suddenly." no time was lost in "getting themselves together," as harriet had expressed it. fortunately, having gone to bed with their clothing on, there was little preparation to make. this completed, at miss elting's direction the girls moved off in a body, secreting themselves in the shadows some distance from the light of the campfire, but within sight of it. up to this time harriet had made no explanation. miss elting, after having placed the girls to her satisfaction, eagerly demanded to know the meaning of harriet's signals, the guardian not having heard the other shots fired farther, down the mountainside. "i answered a signal," replied miss burrell. "oh, then it is the guide? it's janus!" cried miss elting joyously. "no, it was not janus. the signal was fired from a rifle," answered harriet burrell. chapter xxiv conclusion "there goes another shot!" exclaimed harriet. "answer it, dear." "there are only five more shells in the gun. shall i use them all?" "shoot once." harriet did so, getting two signal shots in return. "that means the strangers have heard and understood, does it not?" questioned the guardian. "i think so. now, i would suggest that we keep very quiet until we see who it is. we don't know but it may be our old enemy, who is taking this method of locating us. i have four more cartridges in the magazine. i think we should be able to hold the strangers off with those if we have to." "do not fire a shot unless i tell you to!" commanded miss elting firmly. harriet agreed with a nod, while the guardian stepped back to warn the other girls to be absolutely silent, no matter what might happen. harriet, acting upon a sudden thought ran over to the fire and scattered it with a stick so that it would not blaze up so high. then she returned to her post. some time had elapsed before she was startled, all at once, by the sound of a stick snapping. the girl crept to a more favorable position, where she could obtain a better view of the camp. then her heart fairly leaped into her throat. standing plainly outlined in the flickering light of the campfire was a man. harriet studied the man, then slowly slid the barrel of the rifle into position. "stand still! don't move!" she cried. "i have you covered. if you move i'll shoot! hands up!" the man started, opened his mouth as if he were about to speak, then quickly raised his hands above his head. there was a half grin of amusement on the face of the visitor, but harriet, as she crouched squinting over the barrel of the captured rifle, failed to notice it. the light was faint and the man's hat shaded his face. "who are you and what do you want here?" she demanded, a trace of excitement in her tone. "it's all right, miss," the man smiled, tilting back his hat and revealing an open countenance. "i'm the sheriff of the county. i've been sent to look you up. we have your guide down at the foot of the white trail. he's been hurt. we've got another fellow in whom you'll be interested too. janus grubb sent us to find you." "is mr. grubb badly hurt?" queried harriet, as all the girls came slowly out from their hiding places. "sprained an ankle, not much, but it will lay him up for a few days. the other man we have is charlie valdes, known as big charlie. the story of valdes dates back to the time when jan was a deputy sheriff. he ran down charlie and another bad character, henry tracy. both fellows were poachers, preying on the preserves of rich men in these mountains. jan got his hands on the pair and gathered the evidence that put them in prison. charlie's time was up first, and he came back on purpose to even the score with jan. the instant i had a description of the fellow who bothered you in compton i felt sure it was big charlie. he's the man who has been following you, and we'll prove the burning of the bridge against him, too." "did mr. grubb catch the man again this time, too?" asked hazel. "jan overhauled valdes, and in the fight that followed put a bullet in his leg," replied the sheriff. "it was in the tussle that jan got his ankle sprained, but your guide landed his man. sometimes jan may seem slow, but in a rumpus he's a terror for speed, decision, and grit. we were heading up the white trail, hoping to head you off, when we ran into jan and valdes." later, at the county seat the meadow-brook girls were permitted to put their evidence against big charlie, whom they recognized and identified. charlie was held for trial, and afterward sent back to prison for a much longer term than his first one. the meadow-brook girls regretted parting with janus grubb, whom they held in the highest esteem. but janus was not able to guide any one for the next fortnight or longer, so he recommended a new guide, who led the meadow-brook girls on a long mountain "hike" over beaten trails. then, at last, harriet burrell and her friends reluctantly turned homeward. produced from images made available by the hathitrust digital library.) [illustration: finally they found better going along a narrow ledge] girl scouts in the rockies lillian elizabeth roy 1921 contents chapter one--outfitting for the trip chapter two--via a "prairie schooner" chapter three--julie's strange experience chapter four--going up! chapter five--hitting the trail chapter six--a mule's pleasantries chapter seven--tally and omney entertain chapter eight--scrub's unexpected hunting trip chapter nine--a thrilling canoe trip chapter ten--julie and joan's predicament chapter eleven--on to flat top mountain chapter twelve--lost in a blizzard chapter thirteen--a forest fire chapter fourteen--lost in the bad lands chapter fifteen--back-trailing to denver chapter one outfitting for the trip "girls, this is our third summer as the dandelion troop of girl scouts,--do you realize that fact?" commented mrs. vernon, generally called "verny" by the girls, or "captain" by her friends. "that first summer in camp seems like mere child's play now, verny," returned juliet lee, known as "julie" or just "jule" by her intimates. "that really wasn't camping, at all,--what with all the cooked food our families were bringing weekly to us, and the other housekeeping equipment they brought that day in the 'furniture shower,'" joan allison added, giggling as she remembered the incident. "but last summer in the adirondacks was real camping!" declared ruth bentley, nodding her head emphatically. "yes. still it wasn't anything like this year's camping experience promises to be,--in the rocky mountains," replied mrs. vernon. "mr. gilroy furnished the tents and cots and other heavy camping things last summer, but this year we will have to do without such luxuries." "we don't care what we have to do without, verny, because we are so thankful to be here at all!" exclaimed anne bailey, who was one of the five additional scout members admitted to the circle of the four founders of dandelion troop the preceding summer. "i'm so sorry the other girls can't be with us this trip," remarked julie, who was scout leader of the troop. "it's a shame that amy's mother treats her as if she were a babe. why, this sort of trip is exactly what the girl needs to help her get rid of her nerves," said joan. "yes; didn't every one say how well she was after last summer's camp in the adirondacks?" added ruth bentley. "poor amy, she'll have to stay home now, and hear her mother worry about her all summer," sighed betty lee, julie's sister. "well, i am not wasting sympathy on amy, when dear old hester needs all of it. the way that girl pitched in and helped earn the family bread when her father died last winter, is courageous, say i!" declared julie. "we all think that, julie. and not a word of regret out of her when she found we were coming away, with gilly, to the rockies," added joan. "dear old pal! we must be sure to write her regularly, and send her souvenirs from our different stopping-places," said mrs. vernon, with tears glistening in her eyes for hester's sacrifice. "if julie hadn't been my sister, i'm sure mrs. blake would have frightened may into keeping me home," announced betty. "when she told sister may of all the terrible things that might happen to us in the rockies, julie just sat and laughed aloud. mrs. blake was real angry at that, and said, 'well, may, if your mother was living _she'd_ never allow her dear little girls to risk their lives on such a trip.'" julie smiled and added, "i told mrs. blake, then and there, that mother would be delighted to give us the opportunity, and so would any sensible mother if she knew what such a trip meant! mrs. blake jumped up then, and said, i'm sure i'm as sensible as any one, but i wouldn't _think_ of letting judith and edith take this trip.'" "i guess it pays to be as healthy as i am," laughed anne bailey, who was nicknamed the "heavyweight scout," "'cause no one said i was too nervous to come, or too delicate to stand this outing." the other scouts laughed approvingly at anne's rosy cheeks and abundant fine health. the foregoing conversation between mrs. vernon and five girl scouts took place on a train that had left chicago, and mr. vernon, the day before. he had had personal business to attend to at that city, and so stopped over for a few days, promising to join the dandelion troop at denver in good time to start on the rocky mountain trip. "it's perfectly lovely, verny, to think uncle is to be one of our party this summer," remarked joan. "he and mr. gilroy seem to get on so wonderfully, don't they?" "yes, and mr. gilroy's knowledge of camping in the rockies, combined with uncle's being with us, lightens much of the responsibility i felt for taking you all on this outing," answered mrs. vernon. "it will seem ages for us to kill time about denver when we're so anxious to get away to the mountains," said julie. "but there's plenty to do in that marvelous city; and lots of short trips to take that will prove very interesting," returned the captain. "besides, we will have to get a number of items to add to our outfits," suggested ruth. "that reminds me, girls; the paper uncle gave me as he was about to leave the train is a memo mr. gilroy sent, about what to take with us for this jaunt. shall i read it to you now?" asked mrs. vernon. "oh yes, do!" chorused the girlish voices; so mrs. vernon opened the page which had been torn from a letter addressed to mr. vernon by mr. gilroy. then she began reading: "about taking baggage and outfit for this trip in the rockies, let me give you all a bit of advice. remember this important point when considering your wardrobe, etc.,--that we will be on the move most of the time, and so every one must learn how to do _without_ things. we must travel as the guides and trappers do--very 'light.' to know when you are 'traveling light' follow this rule: "first, make a pyramid of everything you think you must take for use during the summer, excluding the camp outfit, which my man will look out for at denver. "next, inventory the items you have in the heap. study the list earnestly and cross out anything that is not an actual necessity. take the articles eliminated from the heap, throw them behind your back, and pile up the items that are left. "then, list the remainder in the new pyramid, and go over this most carefully. cast out everything that you have the least doubt about there being an imperative need of. toss such items behind you, and then gather the much smaller pyramid together again. "now, forget all your past and present needs, all that civilized life claims you should use for wear, or camp, or sleep, and remove everything from the pyramid excepting such articles as you believe you would have to have to secure a living on a desert island. if you have done this problem well, you ought to have a list on hand, after the third elimination, about as follows: "a felt hat with brim to shed the rain and to shade your eyes from the sun; a good all-wool sweater; winter-weight woolen undergarments that will not chill you when they are dripping with water that is sweated out from within, or soaked through from without; two or three large handkerchiefs, one of silk to use for the head, neck, or other parts of the body in case of need; three pairs of heather stockings,--one pair for day use, one pair to wear at night when it is cold, and the third pair to keep for extra need; high boots--one pair to wear and one to carry; two soft silk shirts--shirt-waists for you girls; a _pure wool_ army blanket; one good rubber blanket; a toothbrush, hairbrush and comb, but no other toilet articles. be sure to have the girl-scout axe, a steel-bladed sheath knife, a _compass_, the scout pocket-knife, fishing tackle, and a _gun_. (more about this gun hereafter, girls.) "now, being girl scouts, you will naturally wear the approved scout uniform. if possible, have this made up in good wiry serge that will shed dust and other things, along the trail. you will want a good strong riding-habit, and two pairs of silk rubber bloomers, the latter because of their thin texture and protection against moisture. "wear a complete outfit, and then pack your extras in the blanket; roll the bundle in the rubber blanket, and buckle two straps about the roll. then slip this in the duffel-bag, and you are ready. "about the gun. don't let your parents have a panic over the item mentioned. you girls had excellent target practice all last winter, so the fact of your carrying a rifle on this trip should not unduly excite any one. in the rockies, a gun is as necessary as an axe or knife, and no one incurs a risk from carrying such a weapon unless he is careless. being trained scouts, with experience back of you, you will be perfectly safe on this outing even though you do carry a rifle. "an old indian guide that i had some years ago, sent word that he would be happy to give us his time for the summer. so he will attend to all the camping needs,--utensils and canvas and horses, for the trip. i told him that we would have a party of girls with us this time, and he smiled when he said he would have to add needle and thread, cold cream, and such requisites to his list." "there, girls," continued mrs. vernon, when she had concluded the reading of mr. gilroy's instructions, "that is about all gilly said about the outfit. but i knew we had conformed to most of these requirements already, so there is nothing more to do about it. when we go over the duffel-bags in denver, gilly may ask you scouts to throw out your manicure cases, or whimsical little things you deem an absolute necessity now, and several articles of wear that you think you must take, but, otherwise, we are ready to 'travel light,' as he says." "shan't we take our sleeping-bags, verny?" asked ruth. "gilly doesn't say a word about them, so i don't know whether he forgot them, or thought you left them home." "i wonder what sort of an outfit the guide will take?" remarked julie. "aluminum-ware for cooking, and a cup, plate, and cutlery for each member of the party, uncle vernon said," answered mrs. vernon. just before reaching denver, mrs. vernon asked of the eager scouts, "did you girls read the books i mentioned, to become familiar with this wonderful country through which we are going to travel?" "i read all i could, and i'm sure the other girls did, too, because every time i asked for one of those books at the public library i was informed it was out. upon investigation, i learned that one or the other of dandelion troop was reading it," laughed julie. "well, then, you learned that colorado can boast of more than fifty mountain peaks, each three miles or more in height; a hundred or so nearly that high. and between these peaks can be found the wildest gorges, most fertile valleys and plains, that any state in the union can boast. "and because of these great peaks with their snow-capped summits, many of which are snowy all the year round, the flow of water from the melting snows furnishes the many scenic streams that give moisture to the plains; which in turn produce the best crops in the west. "but the plains and valleys were not the attraction that first brought pioneers to colorado. it was the gold and silver hidden in the mountains, and the upthrust of valuable ore from the sides of the canyons and gulches that was the magnet which caused mankind to swarm to this state. thus, you see, it became generally populated, the mountainous, as well as the ranch sections." while riding westward from chicago, the gradual rise of the country failed to impress the scouts, so they were all the more surprised when mrs. vernon exclaimed, "i verily believe i am the first to see pike's peak, girls!" "oh, where? where?" chorused the scouts, crowding to the windows on the side of the train where the captain sat. "away off there--where you see those banks of shadowy clouds! there is one cloud that stands out more distinctly than its companions--that's it," replied the captain. "oh, verny, that's not a peak!" laughed joan. "of course not! that's only a darker cloud than usual," added julie, while the other scouts laughed at their captain's faulty eyesight. mrs. vernon smiled, but kept her own counsel, and half an hour later the girls began to squint, then to doubt whether their hasty judgment had been correct, and finally to admit that their guide and teacher had been quite right! they saw the outline of a point that thrust itself above the hanging clouds which hid its sides in vapor, and the point that stood clearly defined against the sky was pike's peak! "but it isn't snow-clad, and it isn't a bit beautiful!" cried ruth in disappointment. "still it is the first rocky mountain peak we have seen," betty lee mildly added. "scouts, this is known as 'the pike's peak region,'" read julie from a guide-book. "it ought to be called 'pike's bleak region,'" grumbled anne. "i never saw such yellow soil, with nothing but tufts of grass, dwarfed bushes, and twisted little trees growing everywhere." mrs. vernon laughed. "anne, those tufts are buffalo grass, which makes such fine grazing for cattle; and your dwarfed bushes are the famous sage-brush, while the twisted trees are cottonwoods." "oh, are they, really?" exclaimed anne, now seeing these things with the same eyes but from a changed mental viewpoint. "and notice, girls, how exhilarating the air is. have you ever felt like this before--as if you could hike as far as the continental range without feeling weary?" questioned mrs. vernon. when the train pulled in at denver, mr. gilroy was waiting, and soon the scouts were taken to the hotel where he had engaged accommodations for the party. "don't say a word until you have washed away some of that alkali dust and brushed your clothes. then we will go out to view the village," laughed he, when the girls plied him with questions. but the scouts wasted no time needlessly over their toilets, and soon were down in the lobby again, eager for his plans. "now i'll tell you what uncle wired me from chicago to-day," began mr. gilroy, when all were together. "he'll be there three days longer, so we've almost five days to kill before meeting him at this hotel." "i've engaged two good touring cars, and as soon as you approve of the plan, we will start out and see the city. to-morrow morning, early, we will motor to colorado city and visit hot springs, and all the points of interest in that section. then we can return by a different route and embrace dear old uncle, who will be waiting for us. how about it?" "how needless to ask!" exclaimed mrs. vernon, when the chorus of delight had somewhat subsided. mr. gilroy laughed. "come on, then! bottle up the news, and stories of crime you experienced on the way west from new york, until we are _en route_ to colorado springs. then you can swamp me with it all," said he. so that day they visited the city of denver, which gave the scouts much to see and talk about, for this wonderful city is an example of western thrift, ambition, and solid progress. early the following morning, the touring party started in the two machines to spend a few days at colorado springs. without loss of time they drove to the famous hot springs, and then on through the picturesque estate of general palmer, the founder of colorado city. his place was copied after the well-known english castle blenheim, and julie was deeply impressed with the architecture of the building. "girls, to-morrow morning i want you to see the sun rise from the vantage point of pike's peak, so we won't climb that to-day. but we will go to manitou, where the setting sun casts long-fingered shadows into the ravines, turning everything to fairy colors," said mr. gilroy. the scouts were awed into silence at the grandeur of the scenery they beheld, and mr. gilroy said, "the ute indians used to come to the manitou waters for healing, you know. to-morrow, on your way down from the peak, we will stop at the ute pass. but i want you to see the marvelous feat of engineering in this modern day that has made an auto drive to the top of pike's peak a possibility." so very early the next morning the scouts were called, and after a hurried breakfast started out in the cars for the peak. having driven over the fine auto road, recently completed, to the top of the peak, they got out to watch the sunrise. this was truly a sight worth working for. from the peak they could see over an expanse of sixty thousand square miles of country, and when the rays of the sun began to touch up with silver places here and there on this vast stretch, the scene was most impressive. after leaving pike's peak, mr. gilroy told the chauffeur to drive to the ute pass. that same day the girls visited the scenic marvels of the garden of the gods, the cave of the winds, crystal park, and other places. they dined at the "hidden inn," which was a copy of one of the pueblo cliff-dwellings of the mesa verde. this inn is built against a cliff, and is most picturesque with its indian collection of trophies and decorations after the pueblo people's ideals. they visited william's canyon and the narrows, with its marvelous, painted cliffs of red, purple, and green; and went to cheyenne mountain and the canyon with its beautiful "seven falls." other places that mr. gilroy knew of but that were seldom listed in the guidebooks because they were out of the way, were visited and admired. the last day of their visit to colorado city, they all took the railroad train and went to cripple creek. the train wound over awesome heights, through rifts in cliffs, and past marvelously colored walls of rock, and so on to the place where more gold is mined than at any other spot in the world. that night the scouts returned to the hotel at colorado city well tired out, but satisfied with the touring they had accomplished in the time they had been in colorado. in the morning they said good-bye to the gorgeous places in pike's peak park and headed again for denver. a splendid road led through pike view, where the best views of pike's peak can be had. then they passed the queer formation of rock called "monument park," and on still further they came to a palisade of white chalk, more than a thousand feet wide and one-fifth that in height, that was known as casa blanca. castle rock was the next place of interest passed. it is said to be a thousand feet higher than denver. then several picturesque little towns were passed by, and at last fort logan was reached. as an army post this spot interested the scouts, but mr. gilroy gave them no time to watch the good-looking young officers, but sped them on past loretto, overland, and denver mile, finally into denver again. as they drove into the city, mr. gilroy explained why he had to hurry them. "you see, this is almost the middle of june, and i am supposed to return from the mountains in september with reports and specimens for the government. "few people tarry in the rockies after september, as the weather is unbearable for 'tenderfeet.' so i have to get through my work before that time. besides, uncle vernon is probably now awaiting us at the hotel, and he must not be left to wander about alone, or we may lose him." "when can we start for the rockies, gilly?" eagerly asked julie, voicing the cry of all the other scouts. "as soon as the indian guide gives us the 'high sign,'" replied mr. gilroy. "about when will that be?" insisted julie. "where is he now, gilly?" added ruth. "i suppose he is in denver waiting for us, but we can tell better after we see uncle. i wired him to meet tally there and complete any arrangements necessary to our immediate departure from denver the day after we get back there." "i hope the guide's name is easier to say than yhon's was last summer," laughed mrs. vernon. "the only name i have ever given him is 'tally'; but his correct name has about ninety-nine letters in it and when pronounced it sounds something like talitheachee-choolee. now can you blame me for quickly abbreviating it to tally?" laughed mr. gilroy. "i should say not!" laughed the girls, and julie added, "ho, tally is great! it will constantly remind the scouts to keep their records up to date." mr. vernon was found at the hotel, comfortably ensconced in a huge leather chair. he pretended to be fast asleep, but was soon roused when the lively scouts fell upon him in their endeavor to tell him how glad they were to see him again. "spare me, i beg, and i will lead you to the nicest meal you ever tasted!" cried he, gasping. mr. gilroy laughed and added, "you'd better, for it's tally, and wild indian cooking hereafter, for three months!" "that threat holds no fears for us brave scouts," retorted the corporal. the girls followed quickly after mr. vernon, just the same, when he led the way to the dining-room. here he had his party seated in a quiet corner, and then he reported to mr. gilroy all he had done since he landed in denver in the morning. "i have the surprise of the season for the scouts, i'm thinking," began mr. vernon, smiling at the eager faces of the girls. "have you formed _any_ idea of how we are going to travel to the divide?" even mr. gilroy wondered what his friend meant, for he had asked tally to secure the best horses possible in denver. and the scouts shook their heads to denote that they were at sea. mrs. vernon laughed, "not on foot, i trust!" "no, indeed, my dear! not with shoe leather costing what it does since the war," retorted mr. vernon. "we all give up,--tell us!" demanded his wife. "first i have to tell you a tale,--for thereby hangs the rest of it. "you see, tally came here first thing this morning, and when i came in from my train, which was an hour late from chicago, he greeted me. i hadn't the faintest idea who he was until after the clerk gave me the wire from gilly, then i saluted as reverently as he had done. finally his story was told. "it seems 'mee'sr gil'loy' told tally to get outfit and all the horses, including two mules for pack-animals (although i never knew until tally told me, that mules were horses). and poor tally was in an awful way because he couldn't find a horse worth shucks in the city of denver. i fancy tally knows horseflesh and would not be taken in by the dealers, eh, gilly?" laughed mr. vernon. mr. gilroy nodded his head approvingly, and muttered, "he is _some_ guide, i tell you!" then mr. vernon proceeded with his tale. "well, tally got word the other day from his only brother, who runs a ranch up past boulder somewhere, that a large ranch-wagon, ordered and paid for several months before, was not yet delivered. would tally go to the wagon-factory, and urge them to ship the vehicle, as the owner was in sore need of it this summer. "tally had gone to the factory all right, but the boss said it was impossible to make any deliveries to such out-of-the-way ranches, and the railroad refused freight for the present. poor tally wired his brother immediately, and got a disconcerting reply. "he was authorized to take the wagon away from the manufacturer and send it on by _any route_ possible. but the brother did not offer any suggestions for that route, nor did he provide means by which tally could hitch the wagon up and send it on _via_ its own transportation-power or expenses. "fortunately for tally, and all of us, a horse-dealer had overheard the story and now joined us. ''scuse me fer buttin' in,' he said, 'but i got some hosses i want to ship to boulder, and no decent driver fer 'em. why cain't we-all hitch up our troubles an' drive 'em away. let your injun use my hosses as fur as boulder, and no charge to him. he drives the animals to a stable i'll mention and c'lect fer feed and expenses along the road, but no pay fer himself,--that's squared on the use my beasts give you-all.' "i ruminated. here we were with tally who had a wagon on his hands and no horses, and here was a dealer with four horses and no wagon. it sure seemed a fine hitch to make, so we all hitched together. so now we are all starting early in the morning _via_ a prairie schooner to boulder. how do you like it?" a cry of mingled excitement and delight soon told him what the scouts thought of the plan, but mr. gilroy remarked, "but what am i to do about horses for the rest of the jaunt?" "oh, tally says he can drive much better bargains with ranchers than in the city here, and the horses trained for mountain climbing by the ranchers are far superior to the hacks that have been used for years to trot about denver city. so i decided to put it right up to tally, and he agreed to supply splendid mounts for each one of us, or guide you free of charge all summer," said mr. vernon. chapter two via a "prairie schooner" imagination had painted for the scouts a most thrilling ride in a prairie schooner, but they learned to their sorrow that the great ranch wagon built for travel over the heavy western roads and rough trails, was not quite as luxurious as a good automobile, going on splendid eastern state roads. ranch wagons are manufactured to withstand all sorts of ditches and obstructions in western roadways. they are constructed with great stiff springs, and the wheels have massive steel bands on still more massive rims. into such a vehicle were packed the baggage and camping outfits that were meant to provide lodging and cooking for the party for the summer. the four strong horses, which were to be delivered to a dealer in boulder, pulled the wagon. tally understood well how to drive a four-in-hand, but the going was not speedy, accustomed as the passengers were to traveling in fast automobiles. tally took the direct road to boulder because it was the best route to the rocky mountain national park, where mr. gilroy wished to examine certain moraines to find specimens he needed for his further work. the wagon had rumbled along for several hours, and the tourists were now in the wonderful open country with the rockies frowning down upon them from distant great heights, while the foothills into which they were heading were rising before them. the road they were on ran along a bald crest of one of these foothills. turning a bend in the trail, the scouts got their first glimpse of a genuine cattle-ranch. it was spread out in the valley between two mountains, like a table set for a picnic. the moving herd of cattle and the cowboys looked like dots on the tablecloth. "oh, look, every one! what are those tiny cowboys doing to the cattle?" called julie, eagerly pointing to a mass of steers which were being gathered together at one corner of the range. "i verily believe they are working the herd, vernon! what say you,--shall we detour to give the scouts an idea of how they do it?" asked mr. gilroy. mr. vernon took the field glasses and studied the mass for a few moments, then said, "to be sure, gilroy! i'd like to watch the boys do it, too." "i have never witnessed the sight, although we all have heard about it," added mrs. vernon. "it will be splendid to view such a scene as we travel along." mr. gilroy then turned to the driver. "tally, when we reach the foot of this descent, take a trail that will lead us past that ranch where the cowboys are working cattle out of the herd." tally nodded, and at the first turn he headed the horses towards the ranch a few miles away. when the tourists passed the rough ranch-house of logs, a number of young children ran out to watch the party of strangers, for visitors in that isolated spot were a curiosity. the guide reined in his horses upon a knoll a short distance from the scene where the cattle were being rounded up. spellbound, the scouts watched the great mass of the broad brown backs of the restless cattle, with their up-thrusting, shining horns constantly tossing, or impatient heads swaying from side to side. all around the vast herd were cowboys, picturesque in sombreros, and chaps with swinging ropes coiled ready to "cut out" a certain steer. meanwhile, threading in and out of the concentrated mass, other horsemen were driving the cattle to the edge of the round-up. "what do they intend doing with those they lasso, gilly?" asked joan. "they will brand them with the ranch trade-mark, and then ship them to the large packing-houses." mrs. vernon managed to get several fine photographs of the interesting work, and then the indian guide was told to drive on. seeking for a way out to the main trail again, tally ascended a very steep grade. upon reaching the top, the scouts were given another fine view of the valley on the other side of the ridge. the scene looked like a titanic checkerboard, with its squares accurately marked off by the various farms that dotted the land. but these "dots" really were extensive ranches, as the girls learned when they drove nearer and past them. the day had been unusually hot for the month of june in that altitude, and towards late afternoon the sky became suddenly overcast. "going to get wet, tally?" asked mr. gilroy, leaning out to glance up at the scudding clouds. "much wet," came from the guide, but he kept his horses going at the same pace as before. thunderstorms in the rockies do not creep up gradually. they just whoop up, and then empty the contents of their black clouds upon any place they select,--although the clouds are impartial, as a rule, in the selection of the spot. had the storm known that a crowd of tenderfeet were in the ranch wagon it could scarcely have produced a greater spectacle. it seemed as if all the elements combined to make impressive for the girls this, their first experience of a thunderstorm in the rockies. before the sun had quite hidden behind an inky curtain, a blinding flash cleft the cloud and almost instantaneously a deafening crash followed. even though every one expected the thunder, it startled them. in another minute's time the downpour began. wherever water could find entrance, there the howling wind drove in the slanting rain. "every one huddle in the middle of the wagon--keep away from the canvas sides!" mr. gilroy tried to shriek to those behind him. flashes with the accompanying cracks of thunder followed closely one upon the other, so that no one could be heard to speak, even though he yelled at the top of his lungs. the wind rose to a regular gale and the wagon rocked like a cockleshell on a choppy sea. the indian sat unconcerned and kept driving as if in the most heavenly day, but the four horses reared their heads, snorting with fear and lunging at the bits in nervousness. the storm passed away just as unexpectedly as it came, but it left the road, which was at best rough and full of holes, filled with water. the wagon wheels splashed through these wells, soaking everything within a radius of ten feet, and constantly shaking the scouts up thoroughly. "i feel like a pillow, beaten up by a good housekeeper so that the feathers will fluff up," said julie. "i'd rather feel like a pillow than to have my tongue chopped to bits," cried ruth, complainingly. "if i have any tongue left after this ride, i shall pickle it for safekeeping." "can't featherweight sit still?" laughed joan. mrs. vernon placed an arm about ruth's shoulder to hold her steadier, just as an unusually deep hole shook up everybody and all the baggage in the wagon. "there now! that's the last bite left in my tongue! three times i thought it was bitten through, but this last jolt twisted the roots so that i will have to have an artificial one hinged on at the first hospital we find," wailed ruth, showing the damaged organ that all might pity her. instead of giving sympathy, every one laughed, and julie added, "at least your tongue is still in use, but my spine caved in at that last ravine we passed through, and now i have no backbone." just as the scouts began laughing merrily at the two girls the front wagon wheel on the right side dropped into a hole, while the horses strained at the traces. the awful shock and jar given the passengers threw them against the canvas sides, and then together again in a heap. the babel of shouting, screaming, laughing voices that instantly sounded from the helpless pile of humanity frightened the nervous horses. the leaders plunged madly, but the wheel stuck fast in the hole. tally held a stiff rein, but the leaders contaminated the two rear horses, and all four plunged, reared, snorted, and pulled different ways at once. the inevitable was sure to happen! "jump, tally, and grab the leaders! i'll hold them in!" cried mr. gilroy, catching hold of the reins. "here, gill, let me hold the reins while you help tally!" shouted mr. vernon, instantly crawling over the front seat and taking the reins in hand. so mr. gilroy sprang out after tally, and made for one of the leaders while the guide caught hold of the other. but just as the indian reached up to take the leather, the horse managed to work the bit between his teeth. at the same time, the lunging beasts yanked the wagon wheel up out of the hole, and feeling the release of what had balked their load, the horses began tearing along the road. tally dangled from the head of the first horse whose bit he had tried to work back into place. mr. vernon held firmly to the reins as he sat on the driver's seat of the wagon. but mr. gilroy was left clear out of sight, standing in the middle of the muddy road, staring speechlessly after the disappearing vehicle. the scouts were tossed back and forth like tennis balls, but the tossing was not done as gracefully as in a game of tennis. fortunately for all concerned, the road soon ascended a steep grade, and a long one. the cumbersome wagon was too heavy to be flipped up that hill without the four horses becoming breathless. the leaders were the first to heave and slow down in their pace; then the two rear beasts panted and slowed, and finally all came to a dead stop. this gave tally his opportunity to drop from his perilous clutch and glare at the horses. "_outlaws!_" hissed he at the animals, as if this ignominious western term was sufficient punishment to shame the horses. "poor gilly! have we lost him?" cried betty, who had been shaken into speechlessness during the wild ride. mr. vernon took the field glasses from his pocket and focussed them along the road he had so recently flown over in the bouncing wagon. suddenly a wild laugh shook him, and he passed the glasses to his wife. the captain leveled them and took a good look, then laughing as heartily as her husband, she gave them to julie and hurriedly adjusted the camera. the scout leader took them and looked. "oh, girls! you ought to see gilly. he is trying to hurry up the long road, but he is constantly jumping the water holes and slipping in the mud. here--every one take a squint at him." by the time mr. gilroy came up the long steep hill, every scout had had a good laugh at the appearance he made while climbing, and the captain had taken several funny snapshots of him. upon reaching the wagon, mr. gilroy sighed, "well, i am not sure which was worse--tally's ride or that walk!" "um--him walk, badder of all!" grinned the indian. the scouts rolled up the side curtains of the wagon that they could admire the view as they passed. and with every one feeling resigned to a mild shaking as compared to the last capers of the four horses, the journey was resumed. great overhanging boulders looked ready to roll down upon and crush such pigmies as these that crawled along the road under them. then, here and there, swift, laughing streams leaped over the rocks to fall down many, many hundreds of feet into the gorges riven between the cliffs. the falling waters sprayed everything and made of the mist a veritable bridal-veil of shimmering, shining white. "tally, shall we reach boulder to-night?" asked mr. gilroy, gazing at the fast-falling twilight. "late bimeby," tally said, shrugging his shoulders to express his uncertainty. "well, then, if we are going to be late, and as the way is not too smooth, i propose we pitch camp for the night. what say you?" suggested mr. gilroy, turning to hear the verdict of the scouts. "oh, that will be more fun than stopping at a hotel in boulder!" exclaimed the leader, the other girls agreeing with her. "very well, gilly; let us find a suitable place for camp," added the captain. "we need not pitch the tents, as you scouts can sleep in the wagon, and we three men will stretch out beside the campfire. tally can pull in at the first good clearing we find along the way," explained mr. gilroy. "if we bunk in the wagon, we'll have to stretch out in a row," remarked joan. "we'll look like a lot of dolls on the shelf of a toy-shop," giggled julie. "i don't want to sleep next to you, julie--you're such a kicker in your sleep," complained betty. everybody laughed at the sisters, and anne said: "i don't mind kicks, as i never feel them when i'm asleep." tally had brought canned and prepared food for just such an emergency as an unexpected camp; so now the supper was quickly cooked and the travelers called to enjoy it. night falls swiftly in the mountains, and even though the day may have been warm, the nights in the rockies are cold. a fire is always a comfort, so when supper was over the scouts sat around the fire, thoroughly enjoying its blaze. the late afterglow in the sky seemed to hover over the camp as if reluctant to fade away and leave the scouts in the dark. the atmosphere seemed tinged with orchid tints, and a faint, almost imperceptible white chill pervaded the woods. "girls," said mr. gilroy, "we have shelter, food and clothing enough, in this wonderful isolation of nature--is there anything more that humans can really secure with all their struggling for supremacy? is not this life in grand communion with mother nature better than the cliff-dwellers in great cities ever have?" mrs. vernon agreed thoroughly with him and added, "yes, and man can have, if he desires it, this sublime and satisfying life in the mountains, where every individual is supreme over all he surveys--as the creator willed it to be." tally finished clearing away the supper, and sat down to have a smoke. but mr. gilroy turned to him, and said, "tally, we would like to hear one of your tribe's legends, like those you used to tell me." "oh, yes, tally! please, please!" immediately came from the group of girls. tally offered no protest, but removed the pipe from his lips and asked, "you like blackfeet tale?" "yes, indeed!" chorused those about the fire. "my people, blackfeet tribe. him hunt buffalo, elk, and moose. him travel far, and fight big. tally know tribe history, an' tally tell him." then he began to relate, in his fascinating english, a tale that belonged to his people. the dandelion scouts would have liked to write the story down in their records as tally gave it, but they had to be satisfied with such english as they knew. "long ago, when the first people lived on earth, there were no horses. the blackfeet bred great dogs for hauling and packing. some indians used elk for that purpose, but the wild animals were not reliable, and generally broke away when they reached maturity. "in one of the camps of a blackfeet tribe lived two children, orphaned in youth. the brother was stone deaf, but the sister was very beautiful, so the girl was made much of, but the boy was ignored by every one. "finally the girl was adopted by a chief who had no children, but the squaw would not have the deaf boy about her lodge. the sister begged that her brother be allowed to live with her, but the squaw was obdurate and prevailed. so the poor lad was kicked about and thrust away from every tent where he stopped to ask for bread. "good arrow, which was the boy's name, kept up his courage and faith that all would still be righted for him. the sister cried for her brother's companionship until a day when the tribe moved to a new camp. then the lad was left behind. "good arrow lived on the scraps that he found in the abandoned camp until, at last, he had consumed every morsel of food. he then started along the trail worn by the moving tribe. it was not a long journey, but he had had no food for several days now, and he knew not where to find any until he reached his sister. "he was traveling as fast as he could run, and his breath came pumping forth like gusts from an engine. the perspiration streamed from every pore, and he felt dizzy. suddenly something sounded like a thunderclap inside his head, and he felt something snap. he placed both hands over his ears for a moment, and felt something soft and warm come out upon the palms. he looked, and to his consternation saw that a slender waxen worm had been forced from each ear. "then he heard a slight sound in the woods. and he realized, with joy, that he could hear at last! so distinctly could he hear, that he heard a wood-mouse as it crept carefully through the grass a distance from the trail. "almost bursting with joy and happiness over his good news, he ran on regardless of all else. he wanted only to reach his sister and tell her. "but that same morning the chief, who had adopted the girl, announced to his squaw that he could not stand the memory of the lad's sad face when the tribe abandoned him. the chief declared that he was going back and adopt the poor child, so he could be with his sister. "in spite of his wife's anger the chief started back, but met the boy not far down the trail. the lad cried excitedly and showed the waxen worms upon his palms in evidence of his story. the chief embraced him and told him what he had planned to do that very day. good arrow was rejoiced at so much good fortune, and determined to be great, and do something courageous and brave for his chief. "he grew to be a fine young brave, more courageous and far more learned in all ways than any other youth in the tribe. then one day he spoke to his chief: "'i want to find medicine, but know not where to get it.' "'be very brave, fearless with the enemy, exceedingly charitable to all, of kind heart to rich and poor alike, and always think of others first,--then will the great spirit show you how to find medicine,' replied the chief. "'must i be kind to spotted bear? he hates me and makes all the trouble he can, in camp, for me,' returned good arrow. "'then must you love spotted bear, not treat him as an enemy, but turn him into a friend to you. let me tell you his story,' said the chief. "'one day spotted bear took a long journey to a lake where he had heard of wonderful medicine that could be had for the asking. he says he met a stranger who told him how to secure the medicine he sought. and to prove that he had found it he wears that wonderful robe, which he claims the great medicine man presented to him. he also told us, upon his return, of great dogs that carried men as easily as baggage. "'we asked him why he had not brought back the dogs for us, and he said that they were not for us, but were used only by the gods that lived near the lake where he met the medicine man.' "good arrow listened to this story and then exclaimed, 'i shall go to this lake and ask the medicine man to give me the dogs.' "all the persuasions of his sister failed to change his determination, so he started one day, equipped for a long journey. when spotted bear heard that good arrow had gone for the dogs he had failed to bring to camp, he was furious and wanted to follow and kill the youth. the other braves restrained him, however. "good arrow traveled many days and finally arrived at a lake such as had been described to him by the chief. here he saw an old man who asked him what he sought. "'knowledge and wisdom to rule my people justly.' "'do you wish to win fame and wealth thereby?' asked the bent-over old man. "'i would use the gifts for the good of the tribe, to help and enlighten every one,' returned good arrow. "'ah! then travel south for seven days and you will come to a great lake. there you will meet one who can give you the medicine you crave. i cannot do more.' "then the young brave journeyed for seven days and seven nights, until, utterly exhausted, he fell upon the grass by the side of the trail. how long he slept there, he knew not; but upon awakening, he saw the great lake spread out before his eyes, and standing beside him was a lovely child of perfect form and features. "good arrow smiled on the child; then the little one said, 'come, my father said to bring you. he is waiting to welcome you.' "with these words spoken, the child ran straight into the lake and disappeared under the water. "fearfully the youth ran after, to save the little one. he plunged into the deep water, thinking not of himself, but of how to rescue the babe. "as he touched the water, it suddenly parted and left a dry trail that ran over to a wonderful lodge on the other side. he now saw the child running ahead and calling to a chief who stood before the lodge. "good arrow followed and soon met the chief whom he found to be the great medicine man he had sought. the purpose of his journey was soon explained, then the chief beckoned good arrow to follow him. "'i will show you the elk-dogs that were sent from the great spirit for the use of mortals. but no man has been found good enough or kind enough to take charge of them.' "then good arrow was taken to the wide prairie, where he saw the most wonderful animals feeding. they were larger than elk and had shining coats of hair. they had beautiful glossy manes and long sweeping tails. their sensitive ears and noses were quivering in wonderment as they watched a stranger going about their domain. "'young man of the earth,' said the chief, patting one of the animals that nuzzled his hand, 'these are the horses that were meant for mankind. if you wish to take them back with you it is necessary that you learn the medicine i have prepared for you.' "good arrow was thrilled at the thought that perhaps he might be the one to bring this blessing on man. he thought not of the wealth and fame such a gift would bring to him. the chief smiled with pleasure. "'ah, you have passed the first test well. this offer to you, that might well turn a great chief's head, only made you think of the good it would bring to the children of earth. it is well.' "so every lesson given good arrow was not so much for muscular power or physical endurance, but tests of character and moral worth. the youth passed these tests so creditably that the chief finally said, 'my son, you shall return to your people with this great gift from the spirit, if you pass the last test well.' "'journey three days and three nights without stopping, and _do not once turn to look back_! if you turn, you shall instantly be transformed into a dead tree beside the trail. obey my commands, and on the third night you shall hear the hoofs of the horses who will follow you. "'leap upon the back of the first one that comes to you, and all the others will follow like lambs to to the camp you seek. "'now let me present you with a token from myself. this robe is made for great medicine chiefs,' and as he spoke the chief placed a mantle like his own over good arrow's shoulders. and in his hand he placed a marvelous spear. "good arrow saw that the robe was exactly like the one worn by spotted bear, but he asked no questions about it. when the chief found the young brave was not curious, he smiled, and said, 'because you did not question me about spotted bear, i will tell you his story, that you may relate it again to the tribe and punish him justly for his cowardice. "'spotted bear reached the lake where the child stood, but he would not follow her into the water,--not even to rescue her, when she cried for help. he was driven back by evil spirits, and when he found the old man who had sent him onward to find the elk-dogs, he beat him and took away his robe. that is the robe he now wears, but i permitted him to wear it until a brave youth should ask questions regarding its beauty,--then will it have accomplished its work. you are the youth, and now you hear the truth about spotted bear. judge righteous judgment upon him, and do not fear to punish the crime. "'now, farewell, good arrow. you are worthy to guide my horses back to mortals. the robe will never wear out, and the spear will keep away all evil spirits and subdue your enemies.' "when good arrow would have thanked the chief, he found he was alone upon the shore where he first saw the child. had it not been for the gorgeous robe upon his back and the spear in his hand, he would have said it was all a dream from which he had but just awakened. "he turned, as he had been commanded, and straightway journeyed along the trail. he went three days and three nights before he heard a living thing. then the echoes of hoofbeats thudded on the trail after him. but he turned not. "soon afterward, a horse galloped up beside him, and as he leaped upon its back, it neighed. the others followed after the leader, and all rode into camp, as the great chief had said it would be. "great was the wonderment and rejoicing when good arrow showed his people the marvelous steeds and told his story. the robe and spear bore him out in his words. but spotted bear turned to crawl away from the campfire. then good arrow stood forth, and said in a loud voice of judgment, 'bring spotted bear here for trial.' "the story of his cowardice and theft was then related to the tribe, and the judgment pronounced was for the outcast to become a nameless wanderer on the earth. even as the chief spoke these words of punishment, the robe he had always bragged about, fell from his back and turned into dust at his feet. "thus came the spirit's gift of horses to mankind, and good arrow became a wise medicine man of the blackfeet." tally concluded his story, and resumed his pipe as if there had been no prolonged lapse between his smokes. chapter three julie's strange experience "that was a splendid story, tally," said the captain, as tally concluded his legend. "yes, i like it better than those i have read of the first horses in books from the smithsonian institution," added mrs. vernon. "him true story! my chief tell so," declared tally, positively, and not one of the scouts refuted his statement. "well, i don't know how you girls feel, but i will confess that i'm ready for a nap," remarked mr. gilroy, trying to hide a yawn. "no objections heard to that motion," declared mr. vernon. "not after such a day's voyage in this schooner," laughed julie. "i'll be fast asleep in a jiffy." so the blankets were spread out over the floor of the wagon, and the girls rolled themselves into them, and stretched out as planned. the planks of the floor were awfully hard and there seemed to be ridges just where they were not wanted. directly under julie's back was a great iron bolt but she could not move far enough to either one side or the other to avoid it. so she doubled her blanket over it, and left her feet upon the bare wooden planks. "i'm thankful there are no tall members in this troop," remarked the captain, after they were all settled in a row. "if there were, her feet would have to hang over the side of the wagon." tally and the two men spread out their rubber covers in front of the fire, and all were soon asleep. julie's brag about falling fast asleep in a jiffy proved false, for she could not rest comfortably because of the bolt. so her sleep was troubled and she half-roused several times, although she did not fully awaken. then, during one of these drowsy experiences when she tried to get on one side of the bolt, she heard a strange sound. she sat up and looked around. it was still dark, although the first streaks of dawn were showing in the sky. her companions were stretched out under their covers, and mrs. vernon was softly snoring. julie lifted a corner of the canvas curtain to ascertain what it was that awakened her, and she saw a suspicious sight. the guide was in the act of getting upon his feet without disturbing the two men who slept soundly by the fireside. he waved a hand, as a signal, towards the brush some ten feet away. and there julie saw a hand and arm motioning him, but no other part of its owner could be seen. "well i never!" thought julie to herself, as she watched tally creep away from the fire and make for the bushes. he was soon hidden behind the foliage, and then julie heard sounds as of feet moving along the forest trail. "i'm not going to let him put anything over on us, if i know it!" thought she. and she quickly stepped over the quiet forms in the wagon, and slid down from the back of the schooner. that night the scouts had on moccasins, fortunately, and her feet made no sound as she swiftly followed the indian through the screen of leaves. then she saw, some dozen yards ahead of her, two forms hurrying up a steep trail that ran through the forest. one was tally, and his companion was an indian maiden. unseen, julie softly followed after them, and finally they came to a roaring mountain torrent that was bridged by a great fallen pine. on the other side of this stream were two shining black horses, with manes and tails so long and thick that the scout marveled. they were caparisoned in indian fashion with gay colors and fancy trappings. the maiden quickly loosed the steeds and tally sprang up into one saddle, while the squaw got up into the other. then they continued up along the trail without as much as a glance behind. julie managed to creep over the treetrunk and gained the other side of the torrent, then ran after them as fast as she could go. but they had disappeared over the crest and the scout had to slow up, as her breath came in panting gasps. finally she, too, reached the summit, but there was no sign of horses or riders. a wide cleared area covered the top of the mountain, from which a marvelous view of denver and its environs could be had. distant peaks now glimmered in the rising sun, and julie sighed in ecstasy at such a wonderful sight. then she remembered what brought her there, and she ran across the clearing to look for a trail down the other side and, perchance, a glimpse of the indians. passing a screen of thick pines, she suddenly came to an old flower garden, and on the other side of it stood a rambling old stone castle, similar to glen eyrie at colorado springs. "humph! this looks as if some one tried to imitate general palmer's gorgeous castle, but gave it up in despair," thought she. julie walked across the intervening space and reached the moss-grown stone steps that led to a great arched doorway. she had a glance, through wide-opened doors, of gloomy hallway and a great staircase, then she skirted the wing of the building, and came out to a wide terrace that ran along the entire front of the pile. the view from this high terrace caused her to stand perfectly still and gaze in awe. she could see for miles and miles over the entire country from the height she stood upon. it was almost as wonderful a view as that from pike's peak. sheer down from the stone terrace dropped a precipice of more than five thousand feet. far down at its base she could see a stream winding a way between dots of ranches and narrow ribbons of roadways. "this is the most marvelous scene yet!" murmured julie. then she frowned as a thought came to her. "if tally knew of this place,--and it is evident that he did,--why did he not tell us of it, so that we could climb up and see it in the morning? and why isn't this old castle on the road-map, with a note telling tourists of the magnificent view from this height?" after a long time given to silent admiration of the country as seen from the terrace, julie turned and slowly walked up the stone steps that led into the hall. "wonder if the place is abandoned," thought she, peeping inside the doorway. as no sound or sign of life was evident, she tiptoed in and gazed about. the tiles on the floor were of beautiful design and coloring, and the woodwork was tinted to correspond. the walls were covered with rare old tapestries, while here and there adown the length of the hall stood suits of armor and mailed figures. bronze chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, and on each side of the hall stood bronze _torchã¨res_ holding gigantic wax candles. "well, in all my life i never dreamed of visiting such a museum of old relics!" sighed julie, who dearly loved antiques. suddenly, as silently as everything else about the place, there appeared a white-haired servitor in baronial uniform. he came forward and deferentially bowed, then he spoke to julie. "are you the indian maiden the guide was to meet to-day?" julie was so amazed at the question that she could not reply, so she barely nodded her head. "then follow me, as the master waits. the guide sits below, eating breakfast," added the old servant. at the mention of breakfast, julie felt her empty stomach yearn for a bite of it, but she silently turned and followed the major-domo, as she knew him to be, along the hall and up the stairs. as they reached the first landing the old man said, "the master is in his laboratory in the tower. breakfast will be served there." julie accepted this as cheerful news, so she fearlessly followed after the guide. she had seen no tower from the outside of the rambling building, but, she thought, there might have been one at the wing opposite the one around which she came when she walked to the front of the place. having reached the top of the stairs, julie saw that the entire second-floor walls were covered with ancient portraits. she would have loved to stop and study the ancient costumes of the women, but the man ascended the second flight of stairs, and she must follow. they went along the hall on the third floor, and at the end the servitor entered a small room that was heavily hung with velour _portiã¨res_. he pushed them aside and turned a knob that seemed to be set in the carved panel. instantly this panel swung open and disclosed a narrow spiral stairway leading to an iron platform overhead. julie began to question the wisdom of this reckless act of hers; but having come so far, how could she back out gracefully? why should this master want to breakfast with an indian squaw--for such he was expecting? "this way," politely reminded the old man, and julie had to see the thing through to the end--whatever that might be. at the head of these spiral stairs the man pulled on a heavy cord, and another hidden door set in carved panelling opened. through this they went, and then the man said: "be seated, and i will call the master." julie gazed about her in profound curiosity. the room was an octagon-shaped laboratory, so dark that its corners were in shadow. the only light came from a huge glass dome ceiling. one side of the room was taken up by a great fireplace; opposite this stood a high cabinet filled with the vials and other equipment of a chemist. the paneled door through which she came took up the third side, and the five other sides were filled with tiers of shelves, where stood rows of morocco-bound books. great leather chairs stood about the room, and in the center, upon a magnificent kirmanshaw rug, stood an onyx table with a great crystal globe upon it. at one side, near the narrow door through which the old servant had gone, stood a grand piano. julie had no time for further inspection of the room, as a unique figure suddenly appeared in the small doorway through which the servitor had gone. he was very tall and thin, and was clad in wonderfully embroidered east indian robes. a fez cap covered the bald head on top, and a thin straggly white beard fringed the lower part of his face. upon his scrawny finger a strange stone glittered and instantly attracted her gaze. julie wondered who this unusual person might be, but he vouchsafed no information. in fact, he stood perfectly still as if waiting for her to open the conversation. this proved to be the fact, for he gazed searchingly at the girl, and then murmured, "well?" julie tried to summon a smile and act nonchalant, but the entire atmosphere of the place was too oppressive for such an air, so she stood, changing her weight from one foot to the other. this form of action--or to be more exact, inaction--continued for a few minutes, then the old man gave vent to a hollow laugh. it sounded so sepulchral that julie shivered with apprehension. he started to cross the room. when he came within a few feet of his guest he said, raspingly, "maiden, i know thee. thou'rt a descendant of spotted bear, the coward! and i--i am the young medicine man who won the robe and spear, and brought the horses to earth for mankind to use. hast aught to say to that?" at these words julie was too amazed to answer. to see the hero of that wonderful indian legend standing before her eyes--but oh, how old he must be, for that happened ages ago, and his yellow parchment-like skin attested to a great age. as she thought over these facts, she could not keep her eyes from the old man's face, and now she actually could trace a resemblance to the young guide, tally. could the latter be a descendant of this medicine man's? as if the old fellow read her thoughts, he chuckled, "aye! the guide is one of my tribe, and thou art a member of that of the outcast, spotted bear. because i have found thee, i shall see that no descendant of that coward's goes forth again to trouble the world." julie began to fear that she had been very indiscreet in coming into this old ruin as she had done, especially as she would find it difficult to convince this old man that she was not the indian maiden he thought her to be. but she paid attention to his next act, which was to pull out a great chair and drop back in it as if too weary to stand longer upon his spindling legs. "art hungry? even my enemy must not complain of our bounty." so saying, the old man reached forth a long thin arm and his fingers pushed upon a button in the wall. instantly a panel moved back and disclosed a cellaret built into the wall. here were delicious fruits, cakes, and fragrant coffee. "help thyself. i will wait till thou art done," said he, waving his hand at the food. julie was so hungry that the sight of the fruit made her desperate. had her future welfare depended upon it, she could not have withstood the temptation to eat some of that fruit. she went over to take an orange, but a horrible thrust in her back caused her to cry out and put both hands behind her. to her horror she found the old man had thrown some hard knob at her and it had made such a dent in her flesh that it could be distinctly felt at the base of her spine. the insane laughter that greeted her wail of pain made her realize that she was in the presence of a madman! "why not eat, maiden? i will amuse myself, meantime," said the old man, as he finished his laughter. julie saw him rise and hobble over to the piano, then seat himself before the keyboard and begin to play the weirdest music she had ever heard. but the pain in her back continued so that the thought of breakfast vanished. all she cared for now was to get rid of that suffering. when she could stand the agony no longer, she gathered courage enough to limp over to the piano and beg him to release her, as she was in great pain. "aha! didst ever think of how spotted bear caused the child to suffer when it went down in the water?" asked he, suspending his hands over the piano keys. "but i hadn't anything to do with that! why strike me for his crimes?" retorted julie, gaining courage in her pain. the old man frowned at her fiercely, and mumbled, "art obstinate? then we'll have to use other ways." he turned and pushed another button in the wall back of the piano, and instantly the glass dome overhead became darkened, so that julie could not see the objects in the room very plainly. the host got up and started slowly for julie. his eyes seemed afire with a maniac's wildness, and the scout feared he was planning to attack her. she screamed for help, and ran for the door in the paneling through which she had entered. but the cry seemed muffled in her throat and no audible sound came forth. the host laughed that same horrible laugh again, and julie tried again, harder than ever, to shout for help. still her vocal chords seemed paralyzed, and no sound was heard from them. just as she reached the paneling, the old man must have hurled another hard ball at her, for she felt the blow in her back and shrunk with the pain. and as she squirmed, she distinctly felt the painful object move from one side of her spine to the other, as if it were a button under the skin that was movable. but the door in the panel could not be opened, and julie worked her hands frantically over its surface, while the old indian laughed and crept closer to her. when he was near enough to reach out and take her in his awful hands, the scout gathered all her courage and flung herself upon him. she fought with hands and teeth, and kicked with her feet, hoping that his great age would render him too weak to resist her young muscular strength. she knew she must overpower him or he would kill her, mistaking her for the maiden descended from spotted bear. she had thus far won the hand-to-hand fight, so that he was down upon his knees and she was over him with her hands at his throat, when suddenly he collapsed, and his eyes rolled upwards at her. in her horror she managed to yell for help, and then she heard-"julie! julie! have mercy! stop tearing betty to bits!" through a vague distance julie recognized the voice of joan. oh, if they were only there to help! but she kept a grip on the old chief's neck while she waited to answer the call. then she heard very plainly, "for the love of pete, julie, wake up, won't you!" and some one shook her madly. julie sat up and rubbed her eyes dazedly, while the scouts about her laughed wildly, and betty scolded angrily. "oh, julie, what an awful nightmare you must have had," laughed mrs. vernon. "is tally back?" asked julie. "he's cooking breakfast,--smell it," said anne, smacking her lips. "i can smell coffee," mumbled julie, still unconvinced that she had been dreaming. "it smells exactly like that old man's." "what old man?" again asked the circle about her. "why, good arrow, to be sure! he lives up on that hill--and, girls, he's as old as methusaleh, i'm sure!" declared julie. the wild laughter that greeted this serious statement of hers did more to rouse the leader from a cloudy state of mind than anything else, and soon she was up and out of the wagon to look for a trail that might run over the crest of the hill. but there was no trail, neither was there a mountain climb such as she remembered in her dreams. at breakfast, she told the dream, to the intense amusement of every one, tally included. then the indian guide remarked, "no better sleep on iron bolt, nex' time!" chapter four going up! "i hope we can say good-by to the old wagon to-day," said the captain, after they were seated again, ready to resume the journey. "you seem not to like our luxurious schooner?" laughed mr. gilroy. "luxurious! had we but known what this ride would be like i venture to say every scout would have chosen to walk from denver," exclaimed mrs. vernon. "and here i've been condemning myself as being the only ingrate in the party!" returned mr. gilroy. "i remember with what enthusiasm the scouts hailed the suggestion of traveling _a la_ prairie schooner." as the wagon came out from the screen of trees where they had camped for the night, the scouts saw the vapors in the valley eddy about and swiftly vanish in the penetrating gleams from the rising sun. here and there patches of vivid green lay revealed, but in another half hour the sun would be strong enough, with the aid of a stiff breeze, to dispel all the clinging mists of night into their native nothingness. "just as our earthly pains and sorrows go," remarked mrs. vernon. "yes, verny, just like julie's dream, eh? she woke up and could hardly believe that she was here--safe and happy," added joan. the road was rough and the joggling was as bad as ever, but the scouts were not so resigned as they had been the day before. every little while they asked, "_now_ how far are we from boulder?" for there they would have surcease from such "durance vile" as this mode of travel imposed upon them. to distract their attention from physical miseries, mr. vernon asked a question, knowing that mr. gilroy would instantly divine his intention and follow it up. "gilroy, how do you explain the queer fact that the higher we go on these grand heights, the more stunted we find the trees? one would expect to find beautiful timber on top." the scouts listened with interest, and mr. gilroy noted this and consequently took the cue given him. "why, timber-line in the west, vernon, means more than the end of the forest growth. most trees near the top of the peaks are stunted by the cold, or are twisted by the gales, and become bent or crippled by the fierce battles they have to wage against the elements. but they are not vanquished--oh, no! "these warriors of the forests seem to realize with a fine intelligence how great is their task. they must protect the young that grow on the sides further down the mountain; they must hold back the destroying powers of the storm, that the _grand_ and _beautiful_ scions of this forest family be not injured. they have learned, through many courageous engagements with nature's fierce winters, that the post appointed them in life can never offer them soft and gentle treatment while there remains such work as theirs to do, work that needs tried strength and brave endurance. "i have never found a coward growing in the ranks of the closely-linked, shoulder-to-shoulder front of trees that mark the timber-line. although they may not _seem_ to grow, materially, more than from eight to twelve feet high, and though many look deformed by the overwhelming conditions, so that they present strange shapes in comparison with the erect tall giants down the mountainside, yet i love to remember that in his perfect creation, these same fighters have won greatness and eternal beauty for their service to others. "in most cases, you will find that the higher the altitude of the peak and the wilder the winds, the closer grow the trees, as if to find increase of strength in the one united front that they present to the storms. these winter gales are so powerful that they tear at every object offering resistance to their destructive force. thus the limbs growing on the outer side of the trees on timber-line are all torn away, or twisted back upon the parent trunk. "but there are times when even the most valiant defenders of the forest are momentarily overpowered. there comes a blizzard; the gale howls and shrieks as it tears back and forth for days at a stretch, trying to force a passage through the defence line. and sometimes a little soldier is rooted up with malignant fury, and used by the merciless gale to batter at his companions. this generally proves futile, however. "it is not always in the wintertime that the most terrific blizzards occur in the rockies. in july, when all the country is pining for a breeze, these peaks produce blizzards that surpass anything heard of in winter, and these summer storms are the most destructive, as the trees are green and full of tender tips, that are ruthlessly torn off during the gale. "then, too, the summer months generally produce the awful snowslides you hear about, that are quite common in the rockies." "oh, i wish we could see one of them!" exclaimed julie, impulsively. "child, you don't know what you are saying!" said mr. gilroy, earnestly. "if you ever went through one, as i have, you'd never want to experience another, i assure you." "oh, gilly! do tell us about it," cried the scouts. and mr. vernon added, "yes, gilroy, do tell us the story." "it was many years ago, while i was on a geological trip through the rockies. tally and i were ready to start for a several days' outing on the peaks when the man we lodged with said, 'you are going out at a bad time. some big slides have been reported recently.' "i, like julie here, said, 'i'd like the excitement of riding a slide.' "the rancher said i was locoed, but he went about his business after that. so i took my snowshoes in case i met a slide and had to ride it. "tally and i were soon climbing the trail, and as we went higher and higher, i felt pleasantly excited to see several small slides start from distant peaks and ride ruthlessly over everything to gain a resting-place. "then we both heard a rumble and stood looking about. we now beheld a slide quite close at hand--on our own ridge but on the far side. it coasted slowly at first, but gathered momentum as it went, until it was flying downwards. "it was about fifty feet wide and several hundred feet long, but it cut a clean channel through the forest, carrying great trees, rocks, and other objects on its crest. before it had traveled five hundred yards, it had gathered into its capacious maw tons of dã©bris, besides the vast blanket of snow it started out with. all this made a resistless force that swept over other forest impedimenta, dragging all along with its flood. "it looked as if the village that snuggled at the foot of the mountain would be completely smothered and destroyed, when suddenly, the entire river of white was deflected by an erosion that had cut a wayward pathway across the mountainside. this attracted the slide down into the ravine. and as its mass went over the edge of the gulch, fine powdery particles filled the air, but nothing more than a dull, grinding sound rose to me as a tremor shook the ground, and i realized that it had found its end in the canyon. "upon my return to the ranch, i was told that that slide had cut down and ruined fifty thousand fine trees. nothing could be done with them after such a battle with the slide. "but the next day, as i still thrilled with the memory of the immense slide, i heard a rumbling sound just above where we were. tally screamed, 'look out. she come!' "i saw snow sliding across a shallow depression above, and heading straight for me. tally had managed to scramble quickly out of the way, and i worked those snowshoes faster than anything i ever did before or since--believe me! "before i could reach a safety zone, however, i was caught in the outer edge of the avalanche and whirled along for some distance. by dint of working those same snowshoes i managed to gain the extreme edge, where i flung myself recklessly out into space, not knowing where i might land. "fortunately, i was left sprawling with legs and arms about a pine, while the slide rioted on without me. i lifted my bruised head because i wished to see all i could of it, and i was able to witness the havoc it wrought in its descent. when it reached the bottom of the mountain it collided with a rocky wall on an opposite cliff. the first meeting of the snow with this powerful resistance curled it backward upon itself, while the rest of the slide piled up on top, and quickly filled the narrow valley with its dã©bris. "had i not been so near the line of least suction, or had i been in the middle of that fearful slide, nothing could have saved me. i should have been buried under tons of snow even if i survived a death-dealing blow from a rock or tree during the descent. "now, julie, do you still care to experience a hand-to-hand battle with a slide?" "if it wasn't for all such thrilling adventures, gilly, you wouldn't be so entertaining. when one is in the rockies, one looks for experiences that go _with_ the rockies," declared the girl. mr. gilroy shook his head as if to say julie was hopeless. but joan laughingly remarked, "a snowslide wouldn't be any wilder than julie's visit to old man good arrow in his castle." "and about as frightful as the pit he would have thrown julie into," added mr. gilroy. "joking aside, scouts. we expect to meet with various thrilling adventures during our sojourn in the rockies, and i don't believe one takes such dire risks if one is careful," said julie. "maybe not, but you are not careful. in fact, you take 'dire risks' every time," retorted mr. gilroy. nothing was said for a few minutes, then tally spoke, "mees'r gilloy--him come to boulder, pooty quick!" "ha, that's good news!" remarked mr. vernon. "yes, and our little scheme worked fine, eh, uncle," laughed mr. gilroy. but all the coaxings from the scouts could not make either man say what that scheme had been. at boulder the party gladly left the wagon for tally to deliver to his brother, and the horses were turned over to the man they were intended for. while tally was waiting for his brother's arrival, mr. gilroy found he could conduct his party through the boulder canyon, known as "the switzerland trail." so they got on a train and rode through a canyon which, as the name suggested, was everywhere lined with great boulders of all shapes and sizes. here a roaring torrent would cleave a way down to the bottom of the canyon, while there an abrupt wall of rock defied the elements and all things else to maintain its stand. at tungsten, the end of the trail, the scouts visited the district where this metal is mined. when they were through with the visit, mr. gilroy told the girls that boulder county's record of income from tungsten alone was more than five million dollars a year. the state university at boulder was visited upon the return of the scout tourists to that city. here the girls learned that the campus covered over sixty acres of ground, and that the university boasted of twenty-two splendidly equipped buildings, equal to any in the world. it also had a library of its own that numbered about eighty-three thousand volumes. the value of the buildings approximated one million, seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars. "it doesn't seem possible, when you look around at what this place is--or seems to be!" exclaimed ruth. "which goes to prove that appearances are not necessarily harmonious with facts," returned mrs. vernon, smilingly. when they met tally, who was waiting at the place appointed, julie asked, "where do we go from here, gilly?" "we'll follow tally, as he seems to have a plan back of that grin," returned mr. gilroy. every one turned to look at tally, who in turn seemed quite taken by surprise, as he said, "tally no plan!" "ah, tally! will you never understand my winks!" sighed mr. gilroy. "i wanted you to help me out while i evaded an issue with these dreadful scouts." "um, tally glad to if mees'r gilloy onny tell him." the others laughed at this guileless confession, and mr. gilroy shook his head despairingly. then he said, "well, i suppose i must 'fess up.'" "of course, if you have any hidden schemes back in _your_ brain," julie retorted. "this is it! tally heard of a number of excellent horses to be had from a rancher near loveland, so rather than wait about here for him to go and bring them back, we will go on to loveland by train, and start from that place to ride through the rocky mountain national park. "you see, my first plan is entirely upset by a prairie schooner, an indian, and a horse-dealer. i had expected to ride from denver on horses secured there, and go to ward. then on across the divide and so on to hot sulphur springs and steamboat springs. but it seems the itinerary revised itself,--and it may turn out to be a good improvement on mine," said mr. gilroy. "how far is the continental divide from loveland?" asked joan. "that all depends on how far we want it to be," laughed mr. vernon. "one can get there in no time, or one can stop at all the attractive points along the trail and spend weeks reaching the divide." then mr. gilroy added, "i propose leaving loveland by an old indian trail tally knows of, and thus reach estes park. we will take in long's peak on the way, and then ride on to the divide, stopping to climb any peak we think interesting, or visit any park or moraine along the route." so the party reached loveland, where tally bargained shrewdly with a rancher for the horses and two mules for the tourists. naturally the rancher wished to sell his horses outright, but tally convinced him how much better an arrangement it would be for all concerned to rent the animals for the season, leaving a cash security deposited with a bank to cover the loss in case any or all of the horses were lost or injured on the way. if all were returned to the rancher in good condition, mr. gilroy would receive his deposit back. this entire section of colorado was created a national park by congress, in january, 1915. and estes park is to the national park what a beauty patch is to the face of a belle--the point of attraction that focuses the eye of the admirer. this national park offers plenty of room for more than a million campers, without one being so near his neighbor as to give a sense of encroachment. for those americans who love the untrammeled life of the woods, this park provides wonderful trout streams; flora and fauna most surprising and beautiful; and not only plains, valleys, ravines, and mountain peaks as diverting places to visit, but lakes, rivers, falls, and every ideal spot of nature that one craves to see. in this national park you may come unexpectedly upon a caribou grazing on the luscious grass, or in spring you may find a doting she-bear, leading her cubs to feast on the tender green shoots. but let your boots make the slightest noise, both these wild creatures will disappear so suddenly that you will rub your eyes to make sure you are awake. other furred and feathered inhabitants of the forests will sit, screened behind the foliage and fern, laughing silently at your amateur ways of discovering them. you may not be woodsman enough ever to spy them, but they are about, just the same. furtive eyes will watch your every movement as you ride along the trail. the partridge that has effaced himself by merging his mottled feathers with the shaggy bark where he is hidden, saw every least thing you did. the wild hare, covered with tall grasses and fern, flicked his long ears in fun, when your awkward steps passed within an inch of his nose, and you never dreamed of his sitting there! the squirrels and woodchucks wondered at your clumsy ways in the wilderness. did they not leap and run joyously without a sound? and you only have two feet to manage while they have four! in short, every denizen of the forest about you will know as if the message were flashed by wire, that a mere man is on his way through their domains. the park realm stretches along on the mountain top at an altitude of nine thousand feet, and more. and it embraces the most rugged section of the continental divide. long's peak rises about fourteen thousand two hundred feet high, and towers above the park plateau. it looks down upon ten or more other peaks that are only thirteen thousand feet high, and many more of twelve thousand feet altitude. long's peak is rocky and not easy to climb, but perfectly safe for man or beast. it is also free from the treacherous ice and snow that so often causes slides. hence one can reach its summit, where a view of over a hundred miles of country is to be had. the park is about twenty-five miles long and from ten to twenty miles wide. this, then, was the wonderful place the scouts of dandelion troop were to visit and glory in. chapter five hitting the trail the horses tally had contracted for were all the tourists could desire. they were sure-footed and experienced mountain climbers; they could go without food or water for a longer period than ordinary animals, as they had been so accustomed. they were not heavy, but wiry and muscular,--in short, the genuine ranch horse of the rocky mountains. the two pack mules, named frolic and jolt, were sleepy-looking beasts, but it was only in appearance. once they started on the trail they proved splendid carriers, even though they took life their own way. the little cavalcade left the hotel at loveland the center of curious eyes, for the summer tourists stopping at the inn had heard of the well-known geologist and the troop of scouts. as few members of the interesting organization of girl scouts had ever been through the rockies, this troop created quite a diversion for visitors. tally soon turned from the beaten track that most tourists take in going to estes park, and led his party to the old abandoned indian trail. finally they came to a cool shadowy thread of a path that could be distinguished only because the trees were not closely interlocked each with the others. at this hour the forest was like the translucence of the sea, bathing everything in the cool green light of its depths; and the exhilarating effect was the same as the salt tang of an ocean bath. "makes one feel as if one were in church at vesper time," softly declared julie, glancing at the arched aisles they were riding through. "was ever cathedral so solemn, so beautiful, as this of nature?" replied mrs. vernon, in a reverent tone. then for another long period all was silence again, as the scouts rode along, breathing in the beauty of the "silent places." when they had traveled about ten miles along this secret trail, with its ever-changing panorama of scenes, the swishing of a stream was heard. soon after, the riders came to tumbling waters, that seemed in haste to go over the cliff that caused them to fall into a shadowy pool far below. great rocks, overhanging pines, and gorgeous flora edged both sides of the waterfall, making a picture impossible to describe. they descended the steep declivity that skirted the falls and picked up the trail again at the bottom. here the scouts found several brooks that ran from the pool, but that were entirely separated from the main stream. tally examined these canals carefully, and then held up a hand for attention. "scout hear beaver work? dis beaver-canal." "oh, really!" whispered the girls, excitedly. "if we could only watch them at work!" they distinctly heard the "tap, tap, tap" of something softly thudding against wood, while tally leaned over to speak. "mebbe kin see beaver. leave horse tie here, an' follow tally sof'ly to colony. but make some noise an' beaver dive home." the scouts promised to be very careful not to make a sound in following the guide, and so they dismounted to secure the horses and mules until their return from the beaver pond. the scouts now had their first glimpse of these industrious little workers, that are found in large colonies everywhere throughout the rocky mountains. this particular colony had dug the canals from the pool to their pond, which was located in a bowl-like depression of the woods, and there dammed up the outlet. but few marauders passed here, and they lived in peace in their selected home-site. there was a good growth of aspens all about the section, and these would supply food and lodgings for some time to come. the huts were erected in the middle of the largest pond of the chain. there were several beavers at work cutting the aspens when the party arrived on the edge of the pond, but so keen is the hearing and scent of these harmless animals, that they stopped work instantly, and slipped into the water, swimming unseen until they reached their huts. "huh! dem 'fraid!" ejaculated tally, with disgust on his face. "come 'long--us see udder places." then he led through the aspen forest that fringed the pond, and reached the outlet where the dam had been constructed by the beavers. here the scouts saw a shallow waterfall that fed another canal; this stream ended in another, but smaller, pond than the upper one they had first found. in this pond were a number of large huts, and many beavers at work at the farthest side of the pond. "i believe they are building another dam, tally!" exclaimed mr. gilroy, under his breath. "um--he am. scout sit and watch." so they all sat on the brink of the pond silently watching the busy workers as they cut down trees, dragged them into the water and then swam with them to the dam, where other beavers helped to place the heavy tree trunks in such a manner that any dead wood or dã©bris floating downstream would catch and help to dam up the water. "why do they build another pond when there is such a big one above?" asked betty. mr. gilroy replied, "there is plenty of food for the family that now resides in the huts in the upper pond, but the colony is increasing so fast that they know there will not be room enough, or food enough, for all this winter. hence they are building now, to provide ample shelter for the future. by starting another dam and thus creating a pond, these wise little woodsmen also secure an area of new aspens that will feed the new colony. "those canals that you see running out into the flat land beyond the new pond, are used as water courses to float the trees along into their pond. it is too bad we cannot see a beaver cut an aspen from that growth, and watch him float it until he brings it to its destination at the dam. "but you can watch, from this vantage point, those old fellows at work. you see that big beaver that sits at one side of the two now cutting--well, he is the boss of that job. it is up to him to choose the best aspens for cutting and order his men to begin work, while he watches. then when the tree is almost cut through he will warn them away, take up the work himself, and push on the severed trunk until it crashes down in the direction he wishes it to fall. "you'll see how clever they are to have the aspen fall as near the water as possible, that they need waste no energy in dragging it over the ground to the pond." the scouts watched, and sure enough! the old boss took up the work at a given signal to his two helpers to stand back, and soon after that, the aspen fell, half of it in the water. but the beavers must have heard a suspicious sound just as they were going to drag the tree across the pond, and they scuttled under the water. reluctantly the scouts turned away and went back to their horses, which they mounted, and soon they were riding along the way again. "i never saw such enchanting flowers and gorgeous ferns!" exclaimed the captain, enthusiastically. "um!" came from tally, proudly, "him got more'n t'ousan' kin' flower in park!" "really! oh, that we might secure one of each for a collection!" sighed julie. "it would take you longer than this summer to accomplish that," remarked mr. gilroy. "here you will find some of the rarest orchids, as well as the hardiest kinds, known. besides, you will find about fifteen species of gentian, the famous blue-fringed gentian among them. the largest columbines ever found grow here; and sweet peas in all conceivable shades of coloring. not only can you add wonders to the botanical collections that you started in the adirondacks, but you ought to be able to study many marvelous birds that nest in this primeval park." so they rode along, stopping frequently to gather interesting flowers beside the trail, and to admire and watch the birds that could be seen everywhere. [illustration: "jule, tell me about that bird swinging over your head"] it was during one of these short rests which had been caused by a crested bird of wonderful hue and unfamiliar form, that joan and julie, with a camera in hand, pushed a way through the bushes, the better to follow the bird's movements. "joan, you sit down there on that fallen pine and write down notes as i call them off, and i will climb up on top of that huge boulder and get a snapshot at him as he swings from that bough," said julie, as she began climbing the rock mentioned. once she gained the top, she called back, "of all the surprises! on the other side of this boulder is a steep descent that drops down to a dark pool. now who would ever have dreamed there was such a pool behind this rock!" "don't bother about pools or precipices now, julie, but tell me about that bird, swinging right over your head. he'll fly away, if you don't 'make hay'!" laughed joan, waiting with pencil suspended over the pad of paper. the rest of the party had heard julie's exclamation, and were urging their horses through the thick forest, nearer the two scouts. tally jumped from his animal and came in the direction of the boulder, trying to catch a glimpse of the bird they were talking about. "jo, i really believe it is a young rocky mountain jay--the kind gilly described to us. he is hopping into the higher branches now, and i can hardly see him," said julie. "dear me, julie! if only we could swear that we got a snapshot and description of the jay from actually watching him, what a fine thing it would be when we get home!" sighed joan. "wait--i'll get out on the far end of this immense rock and try to get a full view of him," said julie, moving across the top of the stone to the outer verge of it. suddenly the boulder began settling slowly down towards the pool. the soil underneath it had all been washed out by torrential rains, so that it barely hung in position when julie climbed upon it. now that she added her weight to its outer side, it began rolling--turning over and over in its heavy descent. "oh, oh! save me, somebody! i'll be crushed to powder!" screamed julie, who could not jump from that great height into the jungle, nor could she maintain a footing without doing the liveliest dance of her life. it was well that the boulder was so heavy, and the pathway it rolled down so soft as to make it sink into the soil and grip a _digging_ hold, as it turned and turned. had the ground been rocky or the boulder smaller, it would have simply hurled itself into the water, carrying julie with it. now, however, she danced and kept stepping like a trained circus animal does on a barrel to keep it rolling, while joan cried fearfully, and tally rushed through the bushes to gain the bottom of the gully. julie had ceased screaming the moment she saw she was to be catapulted to an unforeseen doom, and now kept her wits about her to plan an escape. she saw that the rock would settle down in the pool at about the same speed it took in rolling, and then she must be all prepared to spring off from its side, far out into the water, or be sucked underneath when it went down. if the pool was shallow, she would be forced to slide off at the moment the boulder struck and would be left standing up in the water. she must wait to determine the best chance to take. the time it took from the first starting of the rock down the grade to its striking the water was but a fraction of the time it takes to tell. suddenly the huge boulder plunged into the quiet-looking pool, churning up the water to a froth, and instantly causing a "tidal wave" to raise the pool far beyond its customary water line and flow up the banks. the water, which had hitherto reflected every leaf and blade hanging over its surface, was so very deep that the monolith sank into its secret heart and was completely submerged. as the rock sank, julie sprang, taking her chances in striking something in the pool. but she escaped accident, and swam out of the whirling waters almost before the boulder had disappeared. tally reached the pool as she jumped, and now flung himself in to help rescue her. she was equal to the test, however, and came up on land, dripping, but exultant and breathless from the dance and swim. tally helped her up the deep gully the rock had gouged out in its downward roll; and at the top where she had left joan, there now stood waiting to embrace her, the entire party of riders. when all crying and hugging was ended, julie laughed and said: "folks, give me a boulder-ride in the rockies, every time, instead of an ordinary toboggan! even snowshoes and skis are tame in comparison." they laughed because they were so relieved at julie's escape, but the captain exchanged glances with mr. gilroy, and both shook their heads in despair of ever taming such a wild creature. "in future, julie, leave a rocky mountain jay where it hides, and study the colored prints shown in the bird book," advised mr. vernon, who had felt both for himself and his wife the severe nervous strain while the incident was being enacted. "oh, uncle, half the fun of scouting in the rockies comes from just these experiences. just think of all we can talk about this winter, when we are hibernating at home!" exclaimed julie, ready in spirit, at least, for another joy-ride. they now resumed the trip that had been so unexpectedly interrupted, and came to an elevation in the trail. from this point they had a glorious view of the surrounding peaks in the park. tally pointed out long's peak, which towered over their heads, and mt. meeker alongside it, which appeared almost as high. mt. washington and storm peak were so closely allied to the first two heights that they looked like four points of the one mountain. mr. gilroy waved his hand to the northwest of long's peak, saying, "all that region is called glacier gorge, where we are bound for. there are concentrated the enormous gorges, cliffs, and other glaciated freaks caused by cataclysms that occurred aeons ago. in my opinion, there is no lake, waterfall, or other beauty of the alps that can compare to this glacier gorge, and i have seen them all." "if we are so near by, why can't we visit them all?" asked joan. mrs. vernon took fright, "_never_--with the responsibility for you girls on my hands!" "but, verny, if we slip, we won't be on your _hands_,--it will be a glaciated scout on an ice-floe," laughed julie. mr. gilroy laughed. "and they'll be safer in glacier fields where they know there is great danger if they are careless, than beside quiet little pools, upon a rock that looks as solid as the planet itself." mrs. vernon now turned beseeching eyes upon her husband. "dear, you will persuade gilly not to lead us into such places?" "oh, but verny!" interpolated julie. "do let us go to see at least _one_ glacier!" "how can you, julie! when _you_ are the one always getting into trouble!" returned the captain, wonderingly. "don't i always manage to get out of trouble again without causing any fatality--only amusement for the troop?" they all admitted that this was true, and finally the captain was coaxed to listen to the argument in favor of visiting the glaciers. "i haven't the slightest idea of riding past these glaciers and leaving gilroy to explore them alone," remarked mr. vernon. "if we agree to tie ourselves to your apron-strings, verny, will you feel resigned to our going?" asked julie, meekly. "if five scouts dangle from my apron-strings, how can i scramble for myself?" laughed the captain; but the girls knew she was weakening in her former refusal. with wise looks exchanged between scouts and the two men, the subject was dropped for the time being. so they descended the height where they had obtained such a fine view of the peaks, and rode along the trail that was so heavily screened by forest trees as to cast a gloaming underneath them, even in the brightest sunshine. "gilly, how came these vast mountains here?" asked judith. "yes, gilly, why are they not scattered impartially over the land?" added one of the other scouts. "while we are traveling along a good trail, let me tell you what i have gathered from scientific books on the subject," returned mr. gilroy. "it is evident that the rockies were the first points of land to lift a head above the sea of water when the american continent was born. as often happens in the families of mankind, where the youngest-born embraces all the points of beauty and abilities that are manifested in individual allotments to all other members of the same family, so it is with nature's mountain-children. "the rockies, being the youngest born of mountain ranges of the earth, inherited, as it were, the combined beauty and strength and characteristics that were the best in all the others. but there was no jealousy on the part of the older mountains of earth, and it is doubtful if any one of them even knew of this new-comer to the family group. each had all it could do with its own affairs, in those by-gone cycles. "of earth's large family of mountains, the first-born to lift a head from sleep on the bosom of the 'mighty waters' were the british isles. they were not high or mighty in geography, but they were destined to raise the highest and mightiest race of people on earth. "then the norseland awoke, and yawned so widely, that the pinnacles of its jagged shore-lines instantly molded themselves into barriers to protect the land from the inundation of the sea. then while this awakening took place, the marvelous antilles sat up from the cradle of the ocean and cried to mother nature to be lifted out of their bed. and nature, who abhors a vacuum, gave her eager help to south america. "having given birth to these fine prominences, nature seemed disinclined to cease from her creative activity. she believed it best to finish the allotted number of children, and then raise them all together. so the mountains of labrador appeared, closely followed by the atlantic coast mountains. "then something happened in the bowels of the earth-planet that caused it to swallow so much salt-water from the seas that had covered its surface, that the great ranges of the rockies stood up. "aeons passed during this great upheaval, and aeons more passed before islands dotted the 'face of the waters' and god said 'let there be' and there was! "it is said that the tremendous struggle in the womb of mother earth to give birth to the rockies was nature's hardest labor. as we gaze on the result of the mighty upheaval that has given us these wonderful mountains, does not your imagination paint 'cause and effect' better than mere words ever can?" with many eager questions from the scouts, about cataclysms, glaciers, volcanoes, and other forces that helped build the dry land above the face of the seas, and with mr. gilroy's lucid and interesting descriptions of such work, the party reached the beautiful tract known as estes park. "here's where we camp for the night, scouts,--unless you have something more important to do," announced mr. gilroy. they laughed. "now, gilly! what more important date is there than to eat a good supper," added anne. the scouts teased her at that, but mr. vernon said, "i have an important date for those who will go with me." he took up his fishing tackle, and instantly the scouts signified their eagerness to "keep the date" he had with the fish. mr. gilroy remained with tally to look after camp arrangements and unload the mules. then the horses and mules were turned out to pasture, while supper was prepared. because of the heavily wooded country they were to go through, tally had not bothered to carry any tentpoles. it was an easy matter to run the ropes through the eyelets of the canvas, and string up the shelter to handy tree trunks. hence the tents were up, and mrs. vernon was asked to weave the balsam beds upon the ground, inside them, before the girls returned. fuel was plentiful and a fire was soon burning, whereby supper could be cooked. tally now began preparing his various dishes for the meal, while the captain spread out the cloth on the grass for a table. so excellent is the fishing in these forests, that the two camp-cooks had not had time to complete baking the bread-twist, or boil the potatoes, before the anglers arrived with a fine mess of fish. these were cleaned and placed in the large frying-pan where red-and-white streaked slices of bacon were crisping. the savory odor that soon arose to mingle with the immediate surrounding air made every one sniff audibly, and wish supper was ready to eat. while the captain added the finishing touches to the supper, she remarked to the scouts: "i keep brushing so many little black insects from the cloth, and yet they seem to swarm about more than ever. ask tally what i can do to drive them away." mr. gilroy overheard her, and replied, "i guess we are in for a plague of midges. no use trying to get rid of them by hand, and no use moving camp, as they infest the woods all about, when they do appear; and they last, sometimes, for several days, then they disappear as suddenly as they came." as the scouts began to scratch at faces, necks, and limbs, tally remarked, encouragingly: "de's not so badder." "i hope you don't raise any worse pests than these in your rockies!" cried ruth, her hands and face red from irritation. "jus' wait. de'se meegies go wid sun, but moskeet--he come an' sing all night, an' bite all same." in spite of the discomfort the little black imps caused, the scouts had to laugh at tally's form of condolence. evidently he, with his tough skin, preferred midges to songsters at night. "why should they swarm about now, when we never saw one on the way here?" asked joan, in an aggrieved tone. "it's going to rain, and that always drives them up from the underbrush and wet places where they live during the dry hours," explained mr. gilroy. he had been occupied in crushing caribou leaves between his palms, and now the scouts turned to watch him. when he had extracted the juice from the leaves, he showed the girls how he rubbed it over his neck, face, and arms. this was very effective to keep away the pests for a time; but one had to keep on rubbing the fresh leaf-juice on the skin at intervals because the moisture evaporated with the heat from the body. supper--and it was a delicious one--over, mr. gilroy said to the guide, "tally, we've got to make a smudge fire all right." "um!" agreed tally, "see tent; him all cover wid bites." the girls laughed at the indian's graphic words, for the canvas was black with pests,--mosquitoes and black flies, as well as the midges. every available pan was requisitioned for use as braziers. and movable smokes, that tally manufactured of pine shavings, smudged with damp material, effectively fumigated the camp and drove away most of the insects. but the scouts had to wave balsam fans quite vigorously to make the choking smoke that circled about them eddy away. tally arranged a chain of these smudge-fires about the camp ground, and provided elaborate means of keeping the pests away through the night. but all precautions were useless when the mean little mosquitoes got in between the open places in the canvas, and began their songs. every one was healthily tired, though, and all the needlelike thrusts of the insects could not keep the girls awake. in the morning, julie said, "what should we have done if tally had not smoked away millions of the creatures!" and joan said, "why, infinitesimal atoms of dandelion troop would now be flying all over estes park to await judgment day!" chapter six a mule's pleasantries long's peak had been "done" to every one's satisfaction, and other neighboring peaks had been scaled. estes park was now becoming so familiar an environment that the scouts no longer thrilled at each new experience, but were eagerly looking forward to fresh excitement. "well, tally, how about trekking northwards?" asked mr. gilroy of the guide, one night after supper. "all 'leddy," returned the indian. "frolic and jolt seem to be deucedly gay after this long vacation," ventured mr. vernon, eyeing the frisky pack-mules. "um--jolt him big kick," said tally, signifying with a hand held above his head, how high the animal kicked that day. "our next lap of the journey will take all this freshness out of him, never fear!" laughed mr. gilroy. that night while the scouts slept heavily, tally heard a sound from the corral where he kept the horses and mules. he jumped up and ran over, but jolt had broken his halter and had disappeared. he roused mr. gilroy and told him the news. "oh, let the old rascal go!" mumbled he, then turned over on his side and was fast asleep again. so tally literally obeyed. in the morning, however, mr. gilroy thought differently about his advice. jolt was the best and strongest of the two mules, and the luggage of so many tourists was too much for frolic, the smaller of the pack-animals. mr. gilroy sighed heavily. "well, the only thing to do is for all hands to turn out and hunt for jolt." "why not have verny and betty, the two tender scouts of the troop, stay and strike camp?" asked mr. vernon. "we can go for the mule, while they pack everything and get ready for a start along the trail when we return." in spite of the captain's vehement declarations that she was not to be classed as too young or tender to enjoy a wild hunt for a fractious mule, the two were left behind, and the others started down the trail. after many wanderings along side trails that offered temptations to such a wayward beast as jolt, the hunters found him. yes, jolt was found, but it was another thing to catch him! after many vain attempts, tally finally lassoed him, but the kicking, jumping animal seemed to think the more he performed the better the scouts liked it. after an absence of an hour, the captors filed back to camp, where frolic--contrarily named--stood meekly waiting to be harnessed with the packs. while tally placed the two wooden crates on frolic's back, mr. gilroy essayed to do the same with jolt. but the mule had other intentions. the moment he felt the touch of the pack-frame he lit out with both hind legs. poor gilly not only caved in suddenly in the region under his belt, but he also sat down unceremoniously several paces behind jolt. "um! some bad jolt!" declared tally, scowling at the mule. the opportune words were so amusing, that every one, mr. gilroy included, simply roared. but the indian looked at them in silent wonderment. to his mind, these white men were _always_ laughing. mr. vernon now caught hold of jolt's bit and held his head firmly between both hands, while tally "hitched" the mule's feet so he could not kick or run again. then the crates were strapped on and the packing began. jolt had the heaviest articles roped upon his packs. the canvas, blankets, and camping outfits were his portion. frolic carried the duffel-bags and lighter baggage. finally all were ready for the start. the scouts got into the saddles, and mr. vernon followed suit. tally and mr. gilroy were strapping the last leather around frolic's packs. it was necessary to pull it in another hole to keep the pack from slipping under the beast's belly, but while tally was so pulling it, frolic gave a grunt. another yank at the straps, and another louder grunt from frolic made betty interfere. "i just know you are hurting poor frolic dreadfully! she'll have a bad stomachache from those straps that are cutting her in half!" every one laughed at betty's concern, but it drew attention to the work going on; and so, in watching frolic being strapped up, every one forgot about jolt. the old rascal saw his opportunity to escape to the delectable grazing ground from which he had been ruthlessly lassoed a short time before. so he wheeled and started for the trail. but he forgot to make allowances for the projecting packs, and in passing between two tall pines with but a foot's space between the trunks, the crates became firmly wedged. so fast was he held, in fact, that tally grinned when julie yelled, "jolt's running away again!" tally reassured her, "jolt no run now--him rest awhile." when frolic had been made ready to start, the men went after jolt. the aluminum cooking-ware had been hung, the last thing, upon the sides of the packs, and now the dishes were dented almost out of shape because they were the "bumpers" that came between the packs and the treetrunks. it took some time to dislodge the mule and his packs from between the trees, as it was necessary to protect the cooking utensils as much as possible. this delicate operation was just being completed, when a cry from the scouts drew all attention back to frolic again. the tautly-drawn ropes caused frolic an unpleasant sensation after the days of freedom from harness, so when she was left quite alone, she decided that rolling might ease matters. she lay down and rolled and kicked her heels high in the air, then she rolled again. she kept it up until the scouts knew that every bottle and box in their duffel-bags must be powdered into other necessities. tally rushed over and gave frolic a vicious kick that instantly stopped her rolling, and caused her to lift inquiring eyes to those about her. strange to say, betty offered no protest when tally kicked the mule again, to make her get upon her feet. "there, now!" exclaimed julie. "see that you maintain an upright behavior, you shiftless woman!" the others laughed, for all were gay because the signal had been given to start along the trail. all went well after that, while the mules trotted closely after the horses, and the riders congratulated themselves that henceforth their troubles with the two mules were over. but they were to be undeceived further on. they were descending a long rough hill when jolt, who was the last beast but one in the line, heard a strange sound coming from his packs. tally heard and recognized the metallic banging of some pans that had become loosened when the packs were wedged between the tree trunks at the top of the mountain. but jolt was not as wise as tally, and the more he shook himself, and sidled against the trees, the louder came that queer jangle. then he managed to pass between two trees in order to brush off the objectionable thing, but that made the jangling still worse. so he became desperate. about this time, tally rode over to the place where jolt was trying to crush the noisy thing from his pack, and attempted to use a lash to make the beast stop his stubbornness. but the tip end of the whip was all that caught the mule, and he suddenly jumped. that made all the other utensils shake loose and rattle. this was too much for the annoyed animal, and he started to gallop down the trail. warning shouts from tally made the riders in front get out of the way; the guide then threw his lasso. but it caught upon a knob that had become loose and was projecting from the crate. jolt flew onward, but the large object that had been roped, fell upon the ground with a dull thud. to every one's shocked surprise, the lassoed article proved to be the only bag of flour they had at that time. the cotton container burst open with the fall, and flour dusted softly out upon the surrounding scenery. "we can scoop most of it up and sift it," suggested joan. "but what is there to put it in?" demanded julie. "it's so precious--we mustn't lose an ounce of it," added the captain. "we'll each have to take one of our large clean handkerchiefs, and fill as much in them as they will hold. the ends can be tied together, and each will have to carry her own package," suggested anne, who was worried lest a good meal be forfeited. "that's the only way, i guess," agreed mrs. vernon; so each one filled a handkerchief, and the rest of the flour was then pinned in the bag and carefully placed in mr. gilroy's charge. when the riders were on the trail again, there was no sight of jolt anywhere. where he had gone with the camp outfit was a question. but tally worried not. he said laconically: "jolt wait nex' uphill." when the scouts reached the bottom of the descent, they found a swiftly-running shallow stream crossing the trail. and in this, with both packs submerged, but with head safely held above the cooling water, jolt was stretched out. "there he would stay, i suppose, until he was sure the queer life that made the jangle on his back, was snuffed out," said mr. gilroy, chuckling at the mule's "horse-sense." that day when they stopped to cook dinner, tally was most careful to leave the pack-frames on the backs of the mules, as that would prevent fresh arguments when the time came to resume the trip. fish abounded everywhere,--in the streams, in the lakes, or in the wayside rivulets,--so that there was never a lack of such food. nor did it need expert anglers to catch the fish. it seemed to the scouts that the poor things were only waiting eagerly to be caught. having selected the camp site, tally suddenly stooped and examined some recently made tracks. "bear ben here," said he. "oh, a real live bear?" cried joan. "did you think a dead one made those tracks?" retorted ruth. "i wish we could see him," said julie, and this wish was seconded by all the other girls. "if you want a close acquaintance with him, just follow that track. doubtless he is sitting behind a treetrunk this very minute, planning what to do with you after he has embraced you fondly," said mrs. vernon. "if they follow bear tracks like they followed the calf's hoofprints, they'll sure find something at the end of the trail," teased mr. gilroy. all that morning the sun had remained under a heavy pall of clouds, but noon brought forth its hot shining rays, and the long-reaching fingers seeming to edge the grey clouds with molten gold. during the afternoon the sun had shone fitfully, but towards evening it set in a gorgeous bath of color, the stormbanks that were piled up about it, adding a barbaric touch to the scene. flaunting streaks of gold and crimson shot here and there from back of the clouds; and these in turn seemed to reach out in a confused riot of dazzling purple, amber and copper-edged mountains that rose in majesty overhead. all this wondrous coloring faded rapidly, however, and in a short time the somber gray of the clouds again predominated. then a chill spread over everything. "him rain sure!" remarked tally, holding a palm to the wind. "when?" asked mr. gilroy. "mebbe bed-time--mebbe after night." "then we'd better prepare for it beforehand," suggested mr. vernon. "collect plenty of wood and spread the rubber sheets over it," said mr. gilroy. "we'll see that the tent ropes are well fastened to-night so the wind won't carry away any canvas." tally was right. rain began to fall about nine o'clock. at first it came gently and unobtrusively, but soon it was driven in sheets by high winds. it was well the guide had rolled great pine stumps to the fire, to keep the necessary fuel dry through the night. although the scouts, rolled in their rubber covers, were unconscious of the elements that raged about and over them, tally sat up feeding the fire that kept an area about the sleepers dry all night. now and then the demoniacal gale would root up a mighty pine, and with a s-s-split and a cr-r-r-rash it would thud down, breaking through all the younger timber. at such sounds, the girls would murmur sleepily, "did you see any old trees near camp?" invariably the reply would be, "no--only little ones." then all would sleep again, relieved at such an assurance. the camp presented a sorry appearance in the gray dawn. everything was soaked, and the horses looked washed out. even jolt looked moister than when he rose out of the stream at the base of the mountain. later the sun glanced through dripping foliage and sent its warming beams into the stiffened joints of the campers. and when tally had called them all to a good hot breakfast, life took on a more cheerful hue. the tourists seldom followed the beaten trail that ran to flat top mountain or to the glaciers, because mr. gilroy secured better results in finding rock formations and glacial dã©bris in going by the old indian trails. and tally knew these trails as well as the surveyor knows his line-maps. not long after the scouts had resumed their ride along one of the unfrequented trails, the party reached a mountaintop. the leader turned her head and craned her neck in order to see what the object was that stood clearly outlined from a crag that hung over a dangerous gulch. "a rocky mountain goat! i verily believe," said mr. gilroy. "oh, oh! that's what we want to see!" cried the girls. "and i want to get a good picture of it," added the captain. "now's your opportunity," returned her husband. "but we are too far away to focus the camera." "if the goat will wait, you might go over there," laughed mr. gilroy. "verny, we could ride across this plateau and manage to get a much better focus," suggested julie. "and there may be a whole herd feeding on the grass down in the glade between these cliffs," said mr. gilroy. "oh, let's go and see!" teased the scouts; so the horses were left with tally, and their riders crept carefully across the grassy knolls and glades that hid from their view the ravine where they hoped to see the goats. they were well rewarded for their trouble, too. down in the green basin, under the crag where the ram kept guard for his sheep and ewes, grazed a large flock of rocky mountain goats. the scouts had a sight such as few tourists ever are blessed with, and mrs. vernon took a whole film of excellent snapshots,--all but one exposure, and that was left on the chance of an unusual sight. while they stood watching the herd, a great ram was seen bounding recklessly along the edge of the cliff that formed the wall of the glade directly opposite the scouts. he nimbly jumped from ledge to ledge down this almost perpendicular wall, and soon reached the herd. then another ram, that first sighted by the riders, also started down, going where there seemed to be absolutely no foothold for him. he would spring from the ledge and, scarcely touching the side rock with his hoofs, land upon a bit of shelf, thence on down to another tiny ledge far beneath, and so on until he reached the glade. the two rams now conveyed an alarm to the sheep, and forthwith they started up the perpendicular wall at the end of the glen, winding a way along one ledge after another where no visible foothold was seen with the naked eye. yet _they_ found one, for they climbed, and having reached the top of the wall, they disappeared. "oh, pshaw! i meant to snap the last exposure with that wonderful picture of the herd going up the wall," exclaimed mrs. vernon in evident disappointment. "you're lucky to get the ones you did, captain. these rocky mountain sheep are the wildest on earth, and seldom can man come near enough to get snapshots as you did to-day. the peruvian goats and those in arabia are agile and daring, but they do not compare with these goats for agility, and faith in their footsteps. "when we go further north in the mountains, this scene we just witnessed will seem like child's play to the feats those goats will accomplish. "the lambs are even more intrepid than the elders, and have not the slightest bit of fear of falling. strangely enough, they seldom fall, and are hardly ever injured. it is said that the only risks they run are when they happen to jump in strange territory where the ledges and footholds are not understood." as mr. gilroy finished his interesting description, mr. vernon added, "i've read that the injuries or death that come to these little athletes are due to their traveling in strange places and along unfamiliar trails, as you just mentioned. but in their own crags and mountain recesses, no hunter can ever trap them. they will jump, no matter from what height, and are always sure of a secure footing somewhere." the scouts were so absorbed in listening that they had paid little attention to their own footsteps as they retraced their way to join tally. here and there were small pits almost hidden by the long slippery grass that grew on and hung over the edges. julie was about to draw every one's attention to a great bird that hovered overhead, when her foot slipped on such grass and, in trying to catch hold of something to waylay her descent into the shallow pit, she managed to lay hold of mr. gilroy's leg. in another moment, he was sliding down with her. "look pleasant!" warned the captain, as she quickly snapped a picture on the last exposure of the roll, and then laughed merrily as she turned the knob that wound up the film securely. when the two coasters managed to scramble out of the hollow, midst the laughter of all, mrs. vernon said, "i am glad now that my last picture will be one so fitting to be shown with the others of the rocky mountain athletes." [illustration: a great ram came out opposite the scouts] chapter seven tally and omney entertain while seeking for a likely spot where they could pitch camp that night, mr. vernon saw smoke ascending from the pines a short distance away. fearing lest a fire had started in some way, mr. gilroy and he quickly sought for the place and came upon an old acquaintance. mr. lewis and his guide, omney, to say nothing of their irish terrier, scrub, were in camp, eating supper. it was a pleasant surprise for both mr. lewis and mr. gilroy, as the two geologists had not met since their trip in the mountains many years before. so both parties soon joined camps and enjoyed themselves immensely. after supper that night, the girl scouts heard of many wonderful experiences these friends had shared--the jaunts and jeopardies that always provide such thrilling stories after they are over. finally mr. lewis remarked, "i came here this summer to hunt out a few of those glacial specimens we missed the last time, gilroy." "now, that's strange, lewis, because that is why i am here. dr. hayden mentions some in his latest book, and tyndall glacier is the only place i've ever heard of where there is any such moraine," said mr. gilroy. "have you been there, yet?" asked mr. lewis. "no, 'but i'm on my way,'" laughed the scientist. "then take me with you, old pal! how about the rest of your party," said mr. lewis. "oh, mr. vernon is fast becoming as infatuated with the hunt for specimens as you or i ever were. so we'll share fifty-fifty if we can find anything worthwhile." "and the ladies?" added mr. lewis. "as they are tried and trusty scouts, they are fit for any trial of courage or endurance--is that enough?" "that's a splendid recommendation for any one, gilroy, but have you told them that exploring these glaciers is not as easy as sitting beside a fire and talking of the thrills?" "i have no idea of dragging them down through the moraines with us; but they can accompany us on the trail and enjoy the camp while we wander about in our hunting. the guides can plan the girls' recreation for the time we are absent. now, how does that strike every one?" said mr. gilroy. of course, every one agreed that the plan was great, so they rode forward in the morning, bound for the district around tyndall glacier. when they found a place that would make a comfortable camp for the time, the indians went to work to arrange things for a week, or more, according to the geologists' plans. camp was pitched upon a knoll with plenty of pine trees so standing that natural tentpoles were readymade. the rain would drain from all sides of the knoll, and at one side ran a stream of pure spring-water. from the front of this campsite one could see the cold forbidding peak of tyndall glacier. mr. lewis's guide, whose baptismal name was as difficult to pronounce as tally's, was called omney,--that being a good imitation of what it really was. julie, who was always doing something funny, named him "hominy." as soon as the campsite had been decided upon, the two guides told the scouts to clear away all excrescences from the ground. this meant they had to take axes and cut out all brush and roots that would interfere with comfortable walking about. then the girls said the place was as clean as a whistle, and tally went over it carefully. but it was amazing how many "stick-up" obstacles he found, where everything had seemed so smooth. while tally was doing this, omney supervised the cooking of supper, and soon various savory odors greeted the nostrils of the hungry scouts. every one was ready to eat when omney announced that it was ready, and then there was a period of silence for a time. supper was over with the sunset, and the long purpling shadows of the mountains crept up while the guides placed fresh fuel on the fire and sat down to smoke their pipes. the rocky mountain wilderness, untamed as yet, closed in about the group that sat around the fire, while certain unfamiliar sounds of wildlife in the forest reached the ears of the scouts; but they cared not for prowling creatures there and then, because the campfire provided ample protection. the two indians, not having seen each other since their masters' last trip, were in high feather; and when mr. gilroy suggested that they entertain the party, they quickly responded. omney first chanted his tribe's medicine song; but before he sang he made obeisance to the four winds of heaven,--the north, east, south, and west,--that neither wind should forget him who held them in the palms of his hands. he then explained that this honor and the song to follow were the opening forms to their daily worship of the great spirit. he began in a deep-toned rhythmical chant, and he proceeded with the syncopated melody, now and then sifting in some queer sounds that _may_ have been words, while he kept time with hands and feet. finally this motion seemed to become an obsession, and he accompanied his sudden cries and exclamations with muscular actions and twists of his supple limbs. when he reached this point in the medicine song, tally caught up a pan, and with muffled sticks beat time to the singing. after a period of this weird performance, omney began to circle the fire; tally springing up, followed him in the dance. their bodies doubled, turned, and twisted about, as if controlled by galvanic batteries. their sharp ejaculations and hisses, interspersed in the singing, gave a colorful effect impossible to describe. suddenly, as if arrested by a shock, both indians stood erect and perfectly still. they turned as if on pivots to glance upward, and saluted the four winds of heaven; then walked slowly over and sat down. their performance was ended. the encore they received was acknowledged with dignified smiles, but omney made no sign to repeat his act. then tally stood up and bowed. he caught up a blanket that covered a balsam bed near by, and wrapped it about his erect form. he walked to the center of the camp circle and made a graceful acknowledgment for both entertainers; then he began to speak in a softly modulated voice, and with gestures that would have created envy in the best elocutionist, fascinating to any one who knew him as the quiet and unobtrusive guide. "brothers, i tell you the tale of the blackfeet tribe, how thunder won his bride, and lost her again. "in the long ago, when the sky-people used to visit the earth-folk frequently, to demand pelts and other good things from the earth children in return for sparing their camps from the destructive lightnings and floods, three young maidens went to the woods to dig herbs. "one of these three was the loveliest maiden to be found for many a league, and many a brave had tried to win her affections. but she was fond only of her old father, lame bull. "while mink maiden and her two companions were placing their herbs in bundles to carry back to camp, a dark thundercloud swept over the place, and passed on. however, it seemed as if venting its fury on the camp where the maidens lived. "then fell mink maiden upon her knees and promised thunder chief, saying, 'spare my father and i will obey you in any way you may desire.' "thunder laughed, for that was exactly what he had hoped for. he instantly withdrew his storm from over the terrified village, and came close to the maiden who had made the rash promise. "'i shall come for you soon, mink maiden, to ask you to keep your word.' with these words, thunder flew away to the sky and disappeared through a hole. "soon again, the three maidens went to the woods for herbs and while two of them stopped to dig some roots, mink maiden went on alone. she saw a plant, rare and greatly desired by lame bull, and she pushed a way through the bushes to dig up the root. but when she reached the spot where it had been, she saw nothing. "suddenly, without sound or other sign, a handsome young chief stood where the plant had been. mink maiden was surprised, but when he spoke, saying, 'i am waiting for you to be my bride--will you come with me?' the maiden knew him. "'i am thunder chief, and am come to have you redeem your vow.' "mink maiden saw that he was tall and handsome, and naturally brave. he smiled so kindly that she knew he was gentle. but she coyly asked, 'what must i do to keep my word with you?' "'be my wife. come with me to reign over the sky people, for i am their chief.' as he spoke he held forth his hands, and mink maiden placed her own confidently within his. "he enfolded her closely in his cloak of winds, and springing up from the ground, carried her through the hole in the sky. "when the two companions of mink maiden sought for her, she was not to be found anywhere. they ran to lame bull's lodge to tell him of her disappearance, and the entire village turned out to seek her. everywhere they sought her, for she was beloved by young and old alike, but she was not found nor did they hear what had happened to her. "then came a stranger to that village and asked for lame bull's lodge. he was medicine crow man, who had long desired mink maiden for a wife. he had heard of her disappearance and by making strong medicine had learned where she was. "after telling lame bull how he loved his daughter, and that he had power to find her, the old father promised that should crow man but find where she was, he should have mink maiden for a wife when she returned home. "crow man then caught a blackbird and poured oil of black magic on his tail feathers. the bird was sent up into the sky to find if the lost maiden could be enticed to come back home. after several days the blackbird returned to crow man. "'i could not fly through the hole in the sky, as the people have been ordered to close it with a great plant-root. but i sat on the under part of the roots and heard what was said. and this is it: "'thunder chief carried mink maiden away to be his wife. he commanded that the hole be sealed, that his bride might not see through it and be tempted to return to her home. i heard say that she is very happy with thunder chief, and never thinks of those she left on earth.' "'very good, blackbird, and for this news your tail feathers shall always shine as if with oil. but your curiosity and love for gossip must remain part of your weaknesses,' said crow man. "he then went to lame bull and told all that he had learned through the blackbird. then the villagers began to mourn mink maiden as one lost to them, for they never expected to see her again. but crow man determined to use every art in his power until she should come back. "time went by and the maiden was contented with thunder chief, and never remembered her earth people, for the root choked up the hole in the sky where memory might slip through. "but one day she saw some people bring home herbs and roots which they had dug for the chief. mink maiden asked them where they found them as she, too, wished to dig some. they told her where to go for them, and with basket on her arm she went forth. "it happened that it was the summertime, when thunder chief had to be away many times, fighting the earth people with storms, so she wandered away alone from the lodge where she lived with her husband. "she sought eagerly for the plant she wanted, until she finally came to the great root that blocked the hole in the sky. this she thought must be the place where the other women dug, and she forthwith began to dig also. when she had dug deeply, she pulled on the root, and up it came, leaving a great hole where it had been. "mink maiden was amazed at the size of the root, and leaning over, gazed into the hole, and far down saw the earth. at the same time a blackbird flew quite near the hole, and said, 'mink maiden, your father cries for you to come home.' "then memory returned to the maiden, and she remembered her people. when thunder chief returned from his battles, he found his beloved wife in tears. she cried that she wished to visit her own people on earth. and so, after useless pleadings with her, the husband agreed to take her home for a visit. "accordingly, he flew with her to lame bull's lodge and left her to visit her father. she looked well and comely, and the old chief was overjoyed to see his child again. when she told how happy she was with thunder chief, the father sighed. "'i had hoped you would choose to live on earth where i could visit you. crow man loves you, and has been here many times to ask for you.' lame bull then told of the promise he had made crow man. "but the mink maiden laughed, saying, 'i am married to thunder chief, so crow man cannot have me.' "in a short time after this, thunder chief came for his wife, and asked lame bull to forgive him for carrying away his only child. then lame bull said, 'allow her to remain yet a short time.' "thunder chief presented his father-in-law with a medicine pipe, and taught him to sing the sky song that would always protect his tribe from storms and destruction from lightning. then he turned to his wife and bade her good-by for a time, adding, 'i will return soon for you, so be ready to go home. you shall visit your father often after this.' "he then flew away and mink maiden sat with her father for several days, waiting for her husband to come. but there had been a dreadful commotion in the sky the day after he flew away from the village, and the people said they had never seen such blinding lights and such terrific rumbles, so the wife knew her husband was having a great battle with some one. "the cause was, crow man had fought with thunder chief, although mink maiden never knew that. crow man was subdued for that time, but in the fall he sent the blackbird northward to call out all the arctic forces to come and help keep thunder chief from coming to earth to carry back his wife. and so they did. "crow man called often at lame bull's lodge and all through the winter, when mink maiden sighed because her husband came not, crow man felt happy and tried to make her believe thunder chief had forgotten her. "then spring came on, and mink maiden wondered still more because she heard nothing of her husband, nor came he to the lodge. crow man urged his suit, but she laughed, for she was a wife already, she told him. "all through that second year she sat in her father's lodge and waited; but not a word heard she from the sky people, nor did thunder chief come for her, although she was told that he had been heard of in other parts of the country, so it was learned that he was alive and active. strange to say, neither mink maiden nor lame bull remembered the medicine that had been given the old chief, to keep away all storms from the tribe. this had proved so effectual that thunder chief could not communicate with his wife because of it, and she never went beyond the village limits, where he might have met her. "that winter crow man urged his love again, and begged mink maiden to marry him, so she finally sighed and said: "'i am thunder chief's wife, but if he does not come to claim me in another year, i will go with you.' "crow man was overjoyed at hearing this, and he worked very hard to keep away all reports of thunder chief from the village. then, as mink maiden waited hopelessly for the return of her husband, the year rolled by and crow man came for her. so she followed him to his lodge, although she still remembered thunder chief with regret. "crow man was jealous of her memories and was determined to cure her. so he planned a dreadful thing. he sent the blackbird for the north forces, and when they came in obedience to his order, he told them what they must do. "then he asked mink maiden to walk with him through the lovely woods a distance from the village. and as they walked, the wife saw thunder chief approach with outstretched arms and call to her in a yearning voice. he cried, 'at last, my beloved, you are where i can reach you. all these moons have i longed to meet you, but you sat in the lodge where my own medicine that i gave your father, kept me away.' "thunder chief hurried forward, but the arctic forces ran out from their hiding-places and fell upon thunder chief, just as he was waiting to enfold his beloved in his cloak. with their cold icy blasts and whirling snow and sleet, they overpowered poor thunder chief. in spite of his roaring and sharp lightnings, his power was frozen into sharp points. and that is how icicles came to be upon all nature's trees and bushes when the north forces scatter broadcast the power of the sky forces. "mink maiden saw her beloved turned to ice before her eyes, and she went away, weeping, to her home with lame bull. and crow man besought her in vain to return to his lodge. she would not, and that is why the crow always calls, 'come, come, come!' "and every year when the time returns that thunder chief came for his bride and the north forces overpowered him, you will see mink maiden come from the woods, weeping over her lost love." when tally concluded this legend, the scouts called for another, but mr. gilroy mentioned that the three men planned to get an early start for the glacier fields and it was time to retire. so the two guides prepared the fire for the night and the girls began their good-nights. mr. lewis stopped them, however. "scouts, i want to say a word to you. i notice that you do not know the indian walk--the only way to walk in the woods and not grow weary. in fact, the way all the wild creatures walk, whether they run or creep, without making a sound that will attract attention to them." "no one ever gave it a thought, lewis," admitted mr. gilroy. "now that you mention it, suppose you show the girls, and let them practice, to-morrow, with the guides to teach them." mr. lewis then demonstrated the white man's walk and the natural gait of the indian. the two guides walked to show exactly what he meant, and then the girls were told to do it. "walk perfectly erect,--not leaning from the waist-line forward, as most people do. plant your feet with more weight coming upon the sole instead of on the heel of the foot. always turn your toes straight forward, and take your steps, one foot directly in front of the other so that the track you leave will look like a one-footed man walking a chalk-line. "once you have acquired this gait, you will wonder that you ever walked in any other manner. you can walk a narrow ledge, or stick to any foothold that a living creature can go on, without slipping from lack of room for your feet. "but the greatest benefit such a walk is for one in the forests, is that you can proceed without making any noise. you will not be soaked with the dew that remains on leaves or undergrowth; and after you have taken a long hike you will feel fresh, and have enough energy to start on another trip." the scouts practiced that night, and had many a good laugh at the awkward steps they took when first trying the indian gait. but they finally acquired it, and with daily practice in the woods, they soon walked as well as mr. lewis himself. chapter eight scrub's unexpected hunting trip mr. lewis's dog, scrub, was a never-ending source of fun and entertainment for the scouts. he was a most intelligent animal, and understood everything said to him. in fact, his owner said that scrub was far more intelligent and practical than many human beings he had known. he also told the girls that they could follow scrub into the woods if the guides could not go with them, and he would always bring them back by easy trails--he had such a wonderful sense of location and traveling. the first day in camp, after the three men had started for the glacier field, tally and omney had to complete minor details in the camping arrangements, so the scouts did not ask to be taken for a hike up the mountainside. scrub nosed about for a time, trying to attract the girls' attention by his "talk" but when they failed to understand, he ran away alone, and was not seen again until late that afternoon. he came tearing into camp, barking excitedly, and jumping about the guides and the scouts, as if to tell them of some thrilling adventure he had experienced in the woods that day. they made much of him, but finally his master scolded him for barking so shrilly, so scrub placed his stub tail between his hind legs and crept under a tree. the next day scrub began again to caper about and bark excitedly to invite the scouts to go hunting with him. but they laughed, and julie said to him, "we're going with tally and hominy after a while." it was not, however, to scrub's liking that they tarried so long in camp, and he started away alone. then when the guides were all ready to go with the scouts, the dog was not to be found. "ev'buddy take gun dis time," suggested tally. "oh, what fun! shall we find any wild animals?" asked joan. "mebbe--dunno." the captain warned the girls about using the rifles without first noting all the conditions, and told them not to use them under any circumstances if there was no danger. as each scout knew perfectly well how to carry the firearm so as to protect others, and as every one used precaution at all times, there was no risk of accident. the woods were still wet from the heavy night-dew, but the girls found their newly-acquired step protected their skirts from much moisture. the sun was sending its searching light into every secret nook of the forest, and soon the dew evaporated and the gloom in the dense woods brightened. the many hitherto hidden things in the forest now stood clearly revealed in the sunshine. they followed the trail that led up the mountainside back of the camp. tally waved his hand in an inclusive sweep at the sun, then at the forest it shone upon, and remarked, "him no shine in long. onny mornin'--den shadow come back an' fores' grow black agin." the scouts were eagerly gazing at one thing or another in their progress up the steep trail when betty gave a little cry and jumped out of the way. "what is it--a rattler?" cried many voices, anxiously. "no, but the cutest little rabbit i ever saw,--just like the one verny caught and helped in the adirondacks, you know." tally then added, "no rattlers on dis side rockies, all on udder side mountains." "betty's scream would make one think she was facing a grizzly!" said julie, scornfully. "i wasn't frightened,--it startled me, that's all," betty said, defensively. "was it big enough for rabbit pie?" asked anne, unwittingly calling down the reproaches of all the scouts upon her head. as they scolded anne for always thinking of something to eat,--even a darling little rabbit,--tally suddenly held up a hand for silence. instantly everything was quiet. then they heard distinctly the plaintive cry of a distressed animal. "dat deer call. him 'fraid an' need help. shall us go?" explained tally. "oh, yes, tally, by all means!" exclaimed mrs. vernon. so they pushed a way through the thick screen of pines until they came to a clearing where the trees had been burned down. the sun shone into the place, clearly showing the scene of a forest tragedy which was about to be enacted there. the two guides made way for the scouts to crowd up beside them, and there they saw a well-grown deer in the center of the tiny park. it was still young and inexperienced, as was shown by the way it backed around and voiced its horror and fear. "what is it afraid of, tally?" questioned the captain, because her unaccustomed eyes saw nothing to fear. "see on limb dere--where deer must go if she like to get out?" whispered tally, pointing to one end of the clearing where a giant pine spread its branches far over the place. along the lowest bough crouched a panther, ready to leap. its green eyes gleamed with hungry desire for the choice breakfast so near, and its sinuous tail whipped gracefully back and forth against the tree. but its gaze wavered from the deer to something at the other end of the clearing. what could be restraining this ferocious beast, whose claws, as they dug sharp nails into the wood of the tree, appeared ready to rip open the tender flesh of its prey? two sides of the clearing were made impassable for the deer by the close growth of aspens, interlocked like a brush-fence. at one end of the clearing the panther kept guard, but what was the cause of the starting eyes of the deer as it gazed at the nearer end--the end where the scouts stood? "ah, omney--see?" breathed tally, softly, as he pointed. then they saw a grey-brown animal about the size of scrub, with a stubby tail. its body was thick and short, and its head was round. it had gleaming eyes, green-slitted like a cat's. its ears were sharp-pointed and stood erect. the mouth was partly open, with the tongue showing its red edge between the fanglike teeth. its rusty color merged so perfectly with the bushes that it was small wonder the scouts had not seen it immediately. its expression, the crouching pose, its tense muscles--all denoted its eagerness to taste the blood of the deer, but there was the panther to reckon with first! now the girls realized the danger of the young deer. how could the poor thing hope to escape from a panther and a lynx? when the lynx sensed the human beings, she snarled viciously, but showed no fear. her entire attention was given to the movements of the panther. but the fact that her natural enemies, human beings, stood so close to her, made her act sooner than she might have done. tally whispered the situation in a breath. "pant'er no jump, fear lynx get him an' en get deer. lynx 'fraid to jump firs' 'cause pant'er den jump on bof an' eat 'em." then omney whispered, "tally shoot pant'er, an' me shoot lynx--same time. when i say fire--den shoot!" so the two guides slowly lifted their rifles and aimed. but the lynx had crept closer to the deer, which in turn sent a swift look of apprehension back at the beast that was now preparing to spring the moment the lynx leaped. the deer lifted its muzzle high and bleated forth a wailing cry, and at the same moment two rifles sounded. the instant before they rang out, the lynx had jumped right at the throat of the deer, and the instant after the panther had leaped also. the bullet sped faster than the lynx could spring, and the latter fell with a heavy thud to roll over in the buffalo grass at the forefeet of the deer. omney's shot at the panther, however, struck its right shoulder instead of a fatal spot. when the lynx rolled under the nose of the panic-stricken deer, the poor creature jumped over against the wall of aspens, and this leap spared its life. for the panther, instead of ripping open its throat as it planned to do, clawed a tear in its side and then rolled over on the grass. instantly, the wild beast was up and about to spring again, when a shot from tally's gun ended its preying. the frightened deer had seen the animal rise to spring again, but her eyes were so blinded with the pain and fury of the gash in her side, that she leaped high and brought both hoofs down upon her dead antagonist. again and again she lifted her stiffened forelegs and drove her sharp hoofs into the spine of the dead panther. finally, however, the deer realized that her enemy was dead, and swiftly she wheeled and fled from the clearing through the opening opposite the scouts. as she disappeared, the girls relaxed the nervous tension that had held them absolutely motionless during the battle. now they sighed, and mrs. vernon sat down where she had stood. betty began crying softly, and said, "the poor deer! i hope its side will heal." "sure! him go roll in mud of shallow spring and it heal," tally assured her. the lynx and panther were found to be splendid specimens of their individual kinds, and the scouts had the satisfaction of knowing that this big game had not been shot for mere sport. but, having saved the deer's life by shooting the two wild beasts, the pelts naturally became trophies for the scouts to send home. "they're awfully big brutes, girls. we'll never be able to carry them both back to camp to-day," said mrs. vernon. "skin 'em--onny take back pelts," said omney. "we want to have them stuffed, hominy, so we need the heads and feet, too," said julie. tally looked at omney and spoke in his native language. then he turned to the scouts and interpreted what he said. "i say, omney skin animals wid head an' feet on--us go on an' help omney on way back. him done skin den." as no new adventure befell them that day, they retraced their steps and stopped for omney and the pelts. that night the story was told to the three men, and it lost none of its coloring by having five scouts tell it, turn and turn about. scrub did not return to camp that night, and mr. lewis told omney to start immediately after breakfast in the morning and see if any untoward accident had happened to the dog. tally and the scouts would not remain behind, for they were very fond of the pet and worried lest he had been killed by a wild beast. they chose the trail they had seen scrub take the two previous days, and after climbing the mountain for a time, tally and omney argued over following a faint trail through a jungle. tally pointed to a paw-track in the soft earth, but omney declared it was not a dog's track. yet tally won his way, and started into the dense thicket. he had not gone more than a few yards before he exclaimed jubilantly and pointed to a wisp of scrub's hair that had been caught on a briar. then omney meekly admitted that tally must be right in his intuitions. after following the faint trail for a short time, julie called out, "i'm sure i heard a dog bark just now." "let's shout. maybe scrub's lost and is calling to us," explained betty, anxiously. "lost! now betty, you don't know that dog if you say he could be lost," retorted joan. they all distinctly heard a shrill bark, now, and tally said, "sound like him got wild animal trapped, an' wan' us help." finally they were near enough to hear scrub bark and yelp in reply to the plaintive whining of some other animal. then tally advised the girls, "you no call scrub when you come up. dog look to see you, an' animal jump on him. no say anyting, but wait an' let tally shoot." this was hard sense, and the scouts agreed to obey. just then they reached a spot where the forest trees were not so closely grown. tally held his rifle ready to shoot if necessary, to spare the dog's life, but when he came out of the fringe of pines that circled the small clearing where the dog barked, he stood amazed. the scouts deplored the fact that the camera had been left at camp, as usual, for here was a most unique picture. scrub stood stiffly, the hair along his spine standing upright from excitement. his stub tail vibrated so swiftly that one could not see it move--it seemed a blur of action. his front legs were braced, and he was yelping and barking at two little bear cubs. they appeared as distressed and confused as the dog. one, the larger of the two, glared at scrub with ferocious mien and at intervals, when the dog stopped barking for time to breathe, it would charge threateningly, but never got near enough to grapple with the dog. the smaller cub circled whiningly about a huddled mass that lay under a great pine log. it would sniff about the heap and then sit upon its little haunches and cry quiveringly. it was this wail the scouts had heard in the distance. at times scrub would run over to the trail whence he found his friends approaching, then the little male-cub would join his sister at the black heap, and both would whine pitifully to the mother that was insensible to their cry. the moment scrub was aware of any movement on the part of his opponent, he would tear back to engage his enemy in another wrangle of sounds. "um! no wonder scrub no come home las' night!" laughed tally. "maybe that's why he was so excited the night before--he wanted to tell us," ventured joan. "yes, but i'm surprised that he remained, when he found we would not follow him," added julie. "he may have feared we might move camp and he would be left behind," suggested mrs. vernon. "i go see why mudder don' help cubs," said tally. so he started across the clearing, followed by the girls. "um! see--big log fall from tree jus' when bear go un'ner," said the indian, pointing up at the split bough that had been severed by lightning, with its heavy end left dangling for a time. it had fallen and struck the black mother-bear just as she was passing under, and it must have instantly killed her. "the poor little babies!" sighed betty. "can't we catch them and train them?" asked julie, eagerly. "dem die sure in woods--or beastes eat 'em," said tally. "dear me, we mustn't have that!" cried mrs. vernon. "if we could only tame them and send them to the zoo in new york--what a fine thing that would be for the girl scouts' organization. it would be quite an honor," exclaimed ruth. during the unfamiliar sound and sight of the scouts, the cubs blinked fearfully at them. what new calamity was now at hand--and mother lying there so still and helpless? scrub was ordered away from the bears and made to mind, while tally planned how to catch the cubs. "i use rope an' lasso bof," said he. "we'll surround the cubs, tally, and scrub can keep guard so they won't run away, while you catch them," planned julie. it was an easy task to catch the little girl-cub and tie her to a tree near the mother bear. but it was another matter to catch the boy-cub. tally threw the lasso, but it merely struck the rump of the little fellow as he turned to investigate what his sister, who had been given a chunk of cake by one of the scouts, was eating. the cub resented the slap from the rope, and snapped at it. but tally dragged the lasso back, coaxing the bear-cub much nearer. when the rope was caught up to coil again, the frightened little fellow raced back to the tree where his sister sat. he was so cunning in his awkward gait that the scouts laughed heartily. this time the rope caught him truly, and he rolled over with a jerk. he clawed and snapped and yelped at the bonds that kept him from running away; and when tally took in the rope, the cub snapped viciously at him. then the guide had to throw his coat over the cub's head and fall upon it to wrap him in the folds. but the forepaws were free, so the cub used them well, trying to tear the garment away from his head. so strong was the little fellow that tally had his hands full to finally tie him about the neck. in this fight the cub earned his name of "snap." when both cubs were securely tied to the tree, tally went over to examine the old mother-bear. the scouts followed and stood looking down upon the huge body sprawled under the heavy log. "her dead at once. her not hear babies cry--or nuddin'," explained tally, trying to lift the log from her back. several of the scouts assisted and soon the tree bough was rolled away, scrub managing to get in every one's way during the procedure. "her dead mos' two day--babies no get milk to eat," said tally, after examining the teats and body of the bear. "mebbe we coax home wid eats," suggested he, as he glanced from mother to cubs and back again. "tally, i brought some candy in my pocket," said anne, instantly producing the sweets. "bear like sugar. us lead cubs easy wid dis." "tally, how can we keep this dead bear so we can have her skin, too," now asked julie, anxiously. "oh, if we could only ship home such a magnificent bear pelt, wouldn't we be proud!" sighed joan. "kin skin and bury 'um now. come back mornin' an' carry to camp. got han' full wid two cub to-day," grinned the indian. "oh, if you boys would skin it and save it for us!" sighed several eager scouts. so the guides sharpened their great knives that they always carried in their belts, and began work on the dead bear. the girls would have fainted at such a sight a year before, but now they stood by without a quiver and watched the indians skin the animal. the pelt was soon stripped from the carcass, and the former was buried deep under the log, while the latter was left for the wolves, or other animals. while tally finished this work the scouts gathered berries to feed to the starved cubs. the latter were so famished that they eagerly ate everything given them. all the way home the scouts took turns in holding bits of candy in front of the cubs' noses, to make them run for it. at some of these "home-runs" the cubs got the best of it, and the scouts had to drop the candy and jump aside, or be clawed in the bears' eagerness to get the sweets. at such times scrub barked and jumped at the harnessed cubs, and they in turn would fight back, so there ensued a wild scene of battle until tally got the upper hand again. once the cubs were in camp and caged they became tame and friendly with every one,--even scrub failed to draw a snarl from snap now. the smaller of the two bears was named yap, as she was forever wanting something to eat and yapped when she could not get it. in a few days' time they were freed from the homemade cage and tethered to a tree during the daytime. they furnished great amusement for the scouts; and scrub was peeved because every one showed so much attention to these horrid little brutes, while _he_ would permit petting without a snap if his friends were so inclined. the campers had been on this site for almost two weeks before the men mentioned that they were ready to move along. the cubs were quite tame now, and ran about camp, playing with every one who would play with them. they were fine and plump, and the scouts gave much time to the currying of their soft silky coats and to teaching them tricks. "what do you scouts intend doing with snap and yap when we start on the trail again?" asked mr. gilroy. "where do you plan to go from here, gilly?" asked julie. "why, lewis is going back now that he has secured the special specimens he came to the glaciers for," returned mr. gilroy; "but we are to go along to flat top, where i hope to spend some time at tyndall, you know." "you told me, gill, that you wanted to visit mills' moraine and hunt for glacial deposits there," ventured mr. lewis. "so i did, but it is simply impossible for me to lead the scouts such a dance, and now that they have two bears to dance along with them, i shall have to forego mills'," laughed mr. gilroy, longingly. "is mr. lewis going right back to denver, did you say?" asked julie. "yes, he has a public lecture to give at the auditorium, so he cannot go on with us," explained mr. vernon. "then listen to my idea, and tell me what you think of it--everybody," exclaimed julie, eagerly. "why can't mr. lewis take back our pelts and the cubs, and express them home for us?" the very audacity of the suggestion made every one laugh at first, but after much talking it seemed not so impossible. "then gilly and uncle can go through their wonderful heaps of glacial dã©bris, while tally guides us along the trail to the flat top. we will meet again at the foot of tyndall glacier," said julie. so out of all the talking and planning this was the result: frolic was selected as being the best-behaved of the two mules; the double crate was harnessed to her back, and in each crate a little cub was secured. the pelts of the bear, the panther, and the lynx were strapped across her back, and she was ready to start back to long's peak village, with mr. lewis and omney. there the bears would be crated anew, and shipped to the zoo at central park, new york city, while the pelts were to be expressed to mrs. vernon's home to await the scouts' return. mr. lewis was then to send frolic back with omney, who was to trail with the party and help tally in various ways, while his master finished his lecture tour in colorado. the morning of their departure, the cubs were scrubbed, combed, and fed to repletion by the scouts, then secured in the crates. they were oblivious of the tears shed by the scouts over their soft little bodies, for they were curled up and fast asleep after such a hearty breakfast. when mr. lewis and omney rode down the trail, the scouts wept forlornly while the little party was in sight, but once a bend in the pathway was turned, scrub came in for his full share of love and petting again. "if we could only have kept the cubs with us!" sighed joan. "thank heavens we have scrub left as a hostage for frolic," sighed ruth, hugging the dog, who _now_ ignored every fond attention. "as it was impossible to 'travel light' with two bears, isn't it much better the way we arranged it, girls?" asked mrs. vernon. and they had to admit that such was the case. chapter nine a thrilling canoe trip with one pack mule less, jolt had more to carry but he seemed not to mind it. he was made up of that temperament like few humans, that as long as he had plenty to eat and a place to sleep, it mattered not how hard he had to work at other times. the day following mr. lewis's departure with omney and the cubs, the scouts broke camp and moved along the trail to pitch a camp nearer battle mountain. from this spot mr. gilroy and mr. vernon could daily rove about, hunting for the precious bits of rock and dã©bris that meant so much to the geologist. here the party planned to await the return of omney and the mule, frolic. the new camp near battle mountain was much like the old one, with the exception of its being nearer the trail instead of way back in the woods. thus it happened that the second day of camping, a party of tourists stopped to ask which trail would lead them to a certain stream where they were to meet a party of canoeists. tally explained how they could reach the place, and after they had gone, joan sighed, "i wish we could canoe for a change!" "it wouldn't be much like the infant trips we took last summer," said ruth. "i should say not! in the rockies there'd be rapids, then a whirlpool, and then over a waterfall--to extinction!" laughed julie. "all the same, others take these trips safely,--why shouldn't experienced scouts?" added anne. "just because we never thought of it, with all our other excitement," answered ruth. "now that we have thought of it, let's ask verny why there are no places where one can hire a canoe," suggested julie. the girls laughed at such an idea, but the thought of what a wonderful experience it would be to canoe on these streams, clung to their minds, and so the captain heard about it. "even if you had canoes, there are no navigable streams," said she. "those folks who stopped to ask tally the way to flat top base were to meet friends who canoed all the way from somewhere," said joan. "yes, they told us they were to meet the party there and all were going to cross the divide on horses, then come back and canoe home," added judith. "it seems too bad that all those fine canoes must remain idle while those folks are riding over the divide," sighed julie. mrs. vernon purposely ignored the sigh and the insinuation, then did her best to change the subject to one more practical. but the fates were against her this time. the following morning, two of the men who had previously stopped to inquire the right trail to take, returned to ask tally if he knew of any one who would sell them, or hire out, a number of mountain-climbing horses. now that the canoeing party had arrived, there were no extra horses for them to ride. "how many horses will you need?" asked julie, quickly scheming. "there are eight people in the party, and they will want one or two extra horses for the luggage," replied the man. "there are nine horses and one mule in _our_ outfit," hinted julie, her eyes gleaming as she glanced at the captain. "but your mounts will do us no good," laughed the man. "oh, they might, if you could persuade us to swap for a time," said julie, daringly. "julie, what _do you_ mean?" demanded mrs. vernon, angrily. "why, one likes to be brotherly, you know, verny, and in the wilds, far from other people, we ought to do a good turn to strangers. here is a party with a number of canoes but no horses, and here are we with horses but no canoes--see my point?" she said. "even though you are the scout leader, julie, i do not see how you can even suggest such a step. the captain refuses to listen to any argument along those lines," said mrs. vernon sternly. "we scouts like to canoe, and we will be here at camp for several weeks, so a little side trip like the one offered now would be most delightful," responded julie, who understood that the captain's objections arose mostly from dread of the scouts taking the trip on unknown streams. "several weeks! why, we are only camping here for a few days," retorted mrs. vernon. "besides i have no idea of exchanging safe methods of travel, for what is known to be a great risk." "verny, gilly told uncle last night that he had enough material on hand in these moraines to keep him busy for a year, if he wanted to do the thing properly. but even as it was, he proposed spending several weeks between here and tyndall glacier," said joan, to corroborate julie's statement. "well, what of that? would you advise me to loan the horses gilly gave security for, to a party of strangers we never saw in our lives?" before any one could answer, mr. gilroy hurried back to camp. "i've forgotten my magnifying glasses, girls. don't stop me for anything, now," said he. he ran into his tent and was out again in a moment, but one of the men who came to ask about horses, recognized him in that moment. "why, it is mr. gilroy, who has a place in the adirondacks!" exclaimed he, coming forward. "well of all people! you're the last i looked for in the rockies, kenmore!" laughed mr. gilroy, shaking hands with his friend from the east. "funny how we should happen to meet like this," said mr. kenmore, then he introduced his companion. mr. gilroy, in turn, introduced the two men to mrs. vernon and the girls. when mr. kenmore told his story, and why he had stopped at the camp, julie hastily interpolated and repeated what she had said about a fair exchange of horses and canoes. but no one spoke of the captain's fears. "say, ken, that plan might work out all right," declared mr. gilroy. "how long shall you folks want to use the horses?" "why, as to that--we can go as far as your time permits, and return when you say." "well, i'll tell you! i've got to be about these diggings for another ten days or two weeks at least, and if the scouts want to take a little canoe trip during that time, i think it will be fine! what do you say, captain?" and mr. gilroy turned to mrs. vernon. "you seem to have settled everything before you asked my opinion. yet there would be no scouts in the rockies if i were not responsible for each one of them on this trip!" "why, captain! i imagined you were as eager for this trip as the girls seem to be!" exclaimed mr. gilroy, aghast. "eager--what for? losing half the scouts in a whirlpool because of a silly notion of juliet's?" the very mention of julie's full name sobered every one considerably, for they realized that the captain was very serious in her objecting to this new risk. mr. gilroy suggested, "can you two men spend the day with mrs. vernon and the scouts? i've simply _got_ to rush away and meet mr. vernon. then we will plan to-night after dinner, and see what we can do. i do know that there's no use your trailing back unless you go all the way to loveland or boulder for your mounts--and you won't want to lose all that time, i'm sure." so mr. kenmore and his friend, mr. neil, spent a pleasant day with the scouts, and at night the subject of canoeing was again debated. finally, joan said, "it's foolish of verny to say we will drown, when we won badges for our canoeing last year, and carried off the prizes for our county this spring." "these girls are better swimmers and more expert canoeists than most," added mr. gilroy. "besides, my dear," said mr. vernon to his wife, "it is not as if they had to paddle. with expert indians to guide the crafts, why do you feel so timid about the trip?" "we only have tally, and he can paddle but one canoe at a time. if only omney were here, he could take charge of one, and i could manage the other one," sighed mrs. vernon, feeling overcome by the combined arguments of the others. "how many canoes have you?" asked mr. gilroy. "three large ones, built for parties," replied mr. kenmore. "my wife is a poor swimmer and knows nothing about a canoe, yet she had no fear in trusting herself to the expert indian who managed the canoe she was in." "why not let that indian take charge of one canoe? then the captain will feel safer, and her responsibility will be less?" suggested mr. gilroy. "we'd be glad to, as that will take care of him until we come back from our ride." finally, mrs. vernon said, "if you agree to wait until omney returns, so we can let him manage one of the canoes, i'll withdraw most of my objections, but still i am not in favor of this trip!" having gained that much, the scouts knew better than to urge more at that time. mr. kenmore was relieved to find he could go back to his party with such good news--that horses and pack-mules were found as if by a fairy. he thought to himself, "by a clever little scout of a fairy, called julie!" before the two men left camp in the morning, it was all settled. as soon as omney returned, the scouts would break camp and ride on until they reached the camp pitched by mr. kenmore's party. mr. gilroy and mr. vernon would move leisurely along, searching in the moraines during the day, and pitching camp wherever they were when night fell. there would be no outfits to look after, and no cares about scouts, so they would reach flat top about the time the canoe party returned from its trip. as soon as omney came back to camp, therefore, every one was ready to proceed along the trail to kenmore's camp. when the scout party rode into that camp, every one there was glad to see them, for they had heard about the scout outing and the plan to exchange horses for canoes, for a short time, at least. "couldn't be better if providence itself planned it all!" declared mrs. kenmore, enthusiastically. "don't you think so, mrs. vernon?" "i'll wait until we return before i commit myself. i always did think folks blamed providence too much for what really was their own stubborn will," returned the captain. her repartee caused a laugh, and julie exclaimed, "verny, i fear you are coming down with chills and fever,--you never were so pessimistic before!" "yes, you are awfully lugubrious, verny. at home you are with us on any wildcat scheme," added ruth. "that's it! it took a trip to the rockies to show me what i was at home--for your wildcat schemes. now i'm learning sense!" declared the captain. mr. kenmore had a brilliant idea, and he instantly followed it up. he brought the indian guide who had paddled the canoe to camp, and introduced him to mrs. vernon, as his future mistress for the canoe trip. the captain saw the tall slender form, the fine muscular development of the indian, and the polite demeanor. then she said, "have you been in the rockies long?" "borned here. my fodder chief of waterways in colorado when she was territory and me lee'l boy." the indian demonstrated how small he was at that time. "john tells me he has spent the last twenty years on these streams flowing from the rockies. so he can be depended upon," said mr. kenmore. that noon, the party wishing to cross the divide rode away with the horses and two pack-mules, while the three indian guides showed mrs. vernon the route they proposed taking for the canoe trip. they would follow the creek that eventually emptied its crystal waters into glacier creek. but the latter had many fine tributaries, so they would follow one of these to a spot john knew of, where a short carry of a mile would bring them to a splendid river along which they could canoe for miles and miles. the blankets and other necessities were carefully packed in the bottom of the canoes, and the slat frameworks for the flooring were laid down over them. then the scouts divided their party and got into the three large canoes, with an experienced guide for each. when they were once under way, mrs. vernon began to enjoy the trip as much as any one of the scouts. she leaned back comfortably in the canoe as she thought to herself, "what's so enjoyable as this peaceful riding over placid waters, and passing by nature's wonder-spots!" the indians thoroughly enjoyed canoeing, and the two boys, tally and omney, were delighted at the change of plan that made this water trip possible for them. the paddles were in capable hands, and the canoes responded instantly to every touch. a stroke one way and the canoe would evade a snag thrusting its ugly head from the stream. a stroke the other way, and the passengers quickly rounded a finger of land that jutted out into the water. now and then a quick stroke, and a rock was passed without scraping, and all was done so quietly that no undue fear was roused. they rode under massive overhanging rocks, glided past flat banks of land where gorgeous bloom offered sweetest nectar to bees and butterflies. then they would shoot by cliffs whose towering sides were bare and threatening, or were overrun with vines and topped with giant pines whose roots found a hold down on the other side of the rock. finally the current began to run swifter, and still swifter. the captain sat, half-mesmerized by the swirling water as the canoe shot through it. she was in a delicious state of mind when a stifled scream from julie, in the leading canoe, caused her to rouse instantly. they were sweeping around a wooded curve in the stream, and just before them was a series of little rapids that foamed and frothed. farther on a narrow gorge was seen, and here the water doubled on itself and curled backward in its attempt to escape from the frowning walls of rock on either side. now the canoes were in the white churning waters! now they were cutting through the foam, the wavelets striving to pile up and over the top of the canoes. the rapids roared as they flung themselves against the rocky wall just ahead, and the captain murmured, "oh, i hope no one runs into that!" then the three canoes were flying through the gorge, riding over the lapping waters, and now they were out again on the other side, gliding silently across a wide expanse of dark-green lake. and now the captain heaved a sigh of relief and sent up a prayer of thanks for the protection. the lake was quickly crossed, and again the three canoes were going down what seemed to be a chute. the scouts gasped at the speed, and grasped the edges of the crafts tightly. when the first canoe, managed by john, came to the spot, he called back a warning to the other two guides. and all three bent their muscles to the work in hand. suddenly, without other warning, mrs. vernon felt as if the canoe she sat in had dropped from under her--its flight was so swift that she scarcely realized the motion. then--s-s-suash! down it came upon the top of the water again--but far ahead of whence it sprang. she turned to look at what could have caused this queer sensation and saw they had ridden a "rift." the three indians cheered and complimented the scouts for their courage in this their first rift. so the scouts understood that such things were mere joys to an indian and nothing to be frightened about. during the afternoon the line of canoes reached one of the wildest and most alluring spots in the mountains. the forest was not so dense here, the water was smoother, and the stream wider. the indians were warning each other "watch out!" so their passengers were alert also. no one wanted to miss a single thrill of this marvelous trip. now a sound as of thunder in the distance reached their ears, and the captain wondered what it could be. as the canoes sped onward, the sound grew plainer and louder, and caused a clutch of fear at the throats of the girls. but the indians smiled eagerly and allayed undue trepidation. then quite suddenly, coming out of a screen of overhanging verdure, the strange sounds broke into wild tearing, roaring, pulsating tones, and the canoes slid down upon the tawny yellow chute of a _real_ cataract! the bulky black things that flashed up before the canoes, only to be as swiftly passed by, were _rocks_! the queer, rocking, green-gold glass they were sliding upon was _water_! and then, as in the rift, after a sudden sinking as if through space, they all rode out safely upon another deep quiet lake of dark-green water. that night the indians made camp on the moonlit shores of a marvelous lake. they had not bothered to stop for much dinner at noon, so every one was hungry by evening. freshly caught fish, and the food that only an indian can find and cook to perfection, made the scouts feel "like monarchs of all they surveyed." such thrilling experiences as john could tell, kept the scouts gasping until mrs. vernon suggested they had best go to bed if they wished to continue in the morning. the beds of sweet bracken made up by tally never held more appreciative mortals than the scouts, after the entertainment furnished by john had ended. for breakfast, there were wild ducks' eggs, found by omney; stewed indian potatoes, dug by tally; indian onions, discovered by john; and delicious coffee, brought by mrs. vernon. then they cleared away all signs of the camp and proceeded along the way. the second day of the canoeing there was no fear felt by any one, as the indians had proved to be adequate for any emergency, and the canoes were splendidly constructed craft. in them the scouts shot rapids, rode down cataracts, bobbed about in whirlpools, and then--rode out upon quiet lakes laughing merrily in their nervous tension. finally julie felt tired of sitting still, and asked to paddle. but the guides shook their heads. no amount of coaxing could make them turn over the paddles to other hands. the indians knew their responsibility, and were determined to avoid trouble. the third morning, julie said, "we can paddle so well, tally, and some of these lakes are as tame as dish-water." "den wait to dinnertime at camp!" said tally, unthinkingly. the rest of the morning was passed in dodging great rocks, passing through arched aisles, where the water cut a way through the timber, or again rocking perilously in a seething bowl of froth, to be shot out at the other side, and then ride along on smooth water. that noonday they landed on a blossoming meadow for camp. the canoes were taken from the water and turned over on the beach, while the indians hunted for food to cook for dinner. two of them started for an inland pond where they saw flocks of wild duck, and john began to catch fish for cooking. mrs. vernon took charge of the fire, and the scouts made bread, set the dishes out and did other chores. julie and joan had been sent to hunt for a fresh spring of water, and in passing the canoes where they had been left, joan said, "the lake's like a millpond." "i'd like to paddle across to the other side and climb that steep knoll. i bet there's a fine view from there," said julie. "verny would have a fit!" declared joan, looking back but not seeing the camp, as the bank hid it from sight. "it wouldn't take long, and i'm dying to try these canoes," suggested julie. "come on, then," responded joan. "i suppose it's safe." "of course, and tally said we might try at noon-time." "we'll just shoot over and back again," said joan, as the two girls managed to carry the canoe to the water. no one saw them glide away, and no one missed them at first, as they were thought to be hunting for spring water. then when dinner was ready there was no julie or joan to be found! chapter ten julie and joan's predicament it was all very well to talk about paddling across a quiet little lake, but it was another thing when one got into the swift current that ran past the rocky bluff where the girls wished to land. there was no shallow water anywhere, where they might get out and beach the canoe, so julie paddled with the current for a distance, leaving the camp site far behind. joan kept gazing for a likely spot to anchor in, but there were none such. then suddenly, the canoe was caught in a swirl of water that was caused by the outpouring of a creek, and julie discovered that managing a large canoe built for rocky mountain waters was far different from steering a light craft across a home lake, or along the canal that ran through the town. "why are you going this way, julie--why not stick to the shore line?" asked joan, as the canoe was driven along with the current. "stick to nothing! how can i help going this way when the current is as mad as a jehu!" cried julie, desperately. "then let me help in some way." "i only wish you could, but we only have one paddle." joan glanced at the water. it was running quite shallow just where they were. an idea flashed into her mind. "julie, i'll get out and pull the canoe upstream while you help with the paddle." julie made no demur, although she said, warningly, "don't let go of the canoe for a second, will you?" "of course not! did you think i wanted to be left on a desert shore?" laughed joan, climbing out. she managed to drag the canoe for quite a distance upstream again, while julie paddled with all her might. at times joan stepped down in a hole and had to cling to the canoe to save herself. at such times the craft swung back again downstream, making the girls do the same work all over again. finally joan's teeth began chattering and she managed to quiver forth, "the water's like ice!" "you've been in too long. now you get in and let me take your place, jo. later you can switch off with me again, and in that way we'll get back to still water opposite camp." so julie jumped out and joan got in to paddle, but her hands were stiff with the chill and her whole body shaking, hence her paddling was not of much use. julie was the stronger of the two scouts, so she managed to pull the canoe upstream splendidly, and both girls felt that now their troubles were over. all of a sudden, however, she stumbled over a great submerged stone and fell out flat on the water, face downward. she had presence of mind to cling to the edge of the canoe with both hands, but joan stopped paddling in consternation when she saw the accident. instantly the craft caught in the swift current and shot ahead as an arrow from the bow. julie floated out behind, on the water, at times completely covered with the swirling waves curled up by the sharp canoe. at times she lifted her head up and tried to gasp. in one of these desperate efforts, she cried, "paddle--paddle for the love of mike!" then she was swept under again. before joan got down to actual work again with the paddle, the canoe was running opposite the creek again, and all the gain the girls had made by wading upstream was lost. julie was very cold by this time, and the water was so deep that she could not touch bottom, so she climbed back in the canoe. during the help joan had to give the half-fainting mariner, the canoe headed straight for a bend in the river. where they would land neither scout could tell. it might be over the falls--it might be in a mud puddle. "can't you stop it?" screamed julie, hysterically. "we may run plumb into a cliff and smash to bits!" as she spoke, she grabbed the paddle and worked with the strength that fear sometimes gives, so that she really poled the canoe across the creek to the shore where the water was quiet. but they were now on the far side of the current, in the creek that was hidden by the bluff they had passed. the distance from camp was too far for any one to hear them, even if they did shout. so they fastened the canoe and got out upon the bank. "when verny finds us gone, and one canoe missing, she will send the indians out at once to hunt for us. meantime, we may as well make a fire and get warm," suggested julie. "tally left a line and tackle in the bottom of the canoe," announced joan, remembering that she had caught her toe on a fish-hook when she climbed out. "oh, then we're not so hard up, after all. we can catch a fish and broil it for lunch." "i'm fearfully hungry after all that work," hinted joan. "then you fish while i make fire with some rubbing-sticks. as soon as you land a fish, i'll clean it with my scout knife and start broiling it. better try upstream a ways, where the water is quiet," said julie. the fire was soon blazing, and joan managed to catch two goodly sized fish, so they ate them, and dried their uniforms at the fire at the same time. this done, they felt better. but no call from the rescuers the girls had expected, nor sign of them, came from the lake beyond the bluff. "jo, suppose we follow this creek a ways until we find a shallow place where we can ford. then we can climb up to that knoll and signal with smokes." "we may get into all sorts of new trouble, julie. i'd rather wait here for them." "i've got to get up and do something, jo. i'll go crazy sitting here waiting, with no sign from any one out there." "why can't we paddle the canoe up a ways. if we walk we may step on a rattler, or meet other dreadful things," ventured jo. "all right, then. we'll canoe upstream a ways. if it doesn't look healthy yonder, we'll come back. but should we find a trail we may as well follow it to the bluff," returned julie. "who'd make a trail in this wilderness!" scorned joan. "don't you suppose others have been in this beautiful spot? others have seen that bluff and climbed it, too." so the scouts paddled the canoe upstream as far as it seemed advisable, and that is how they missed hearing the indians, when they crossed the creek and called for the lost ones. then the hunters paddled on downstream, searching ahead for a canoe that might be going straight for the great falls john knew to be a mile further down. john and omney were in the leading canoe, while the captain and tally were in the second canoe of the rescuing party. when no sign of the scouts was seen at the creek, john called back to tally. "omney and me go on, you take lady to shore and wait on creek for me." tally did not tell mrs. vernon that a dangerous waterfall was downstream, but he knew that was where john was going to hunt, so he landed his passenger on the far side of the creek, where they sat and waited for news. no one dreamed that the two girls would paddle up the creek and thus miss a chance of being helped. nor did tally find the ashes of the little campfire julie had made to cook the fish and to dry themselves. "i knew there would be a fine trail along here, somewhere, jo!" exclaimed julie, driving the canoe inshore and pointing exultantly at a distinct trail that ran up from the water's edge. "oh, joy! it runs straight for the bluff, too!" cried joan. so they climbed this steep trail, which was so plainly worn that there was no need of blazes along the way. they climbed and climbed! still they had not reached the top where they expected to find the knoll they originally started out for. "seems to me we have gone twice as far as ever that bluff was," complained joan. "places always seem close at hand when one is on the water," commented julie. but they now found the trail descending, and shortly it went decidedly downhill, away from the lake. both scouts looked at each other. "there is no sense in _going down_, julie!" "apparently not, jo, but these trails wind awfully, you know; and maybe it is trying to avoid a gully or a cliff." so they kept on, hoping every moment for a sight of the bald place that had allured them from the camp on the safe and desirable meadow. after half an hour of this hiking they came out to an inland pond with canals cut in different directions. "why! it's a beaver colony!" exclaimed julie, pointing to the huts and dam, and they saw several beavers working in the aspens at the far side of the pond. "i could eat one of those beavers--i'm so starved!" sighed joan. "shall we follow that trail around the pond?" asked julie. "what for? we're only going further away all the time." "then we may as well go back to the creek and wait." "all this long walk for nothing!" grumbled joan. but she followed julie nevertheless, and when they reached the brook they had recently crossed, the girls found two trails leading to it. "i only saw one before," said joan. "because we were _on_ that one,--but which one was it?" "coming from the left, to be sure. would we be coming from the interior?" asked joan, impatiently. so they took the lefthand trail, although they really had come up by the other one, which led from the creek where their canoe was waiting. "jo, i believe both those trails were worn by animals going to the creek," ventured julie, as the idea suddenly came to her. "well, you said tourists would surely visit here and leave a trail!" joan returned, jeeringly. for once julie made no reply in self-justification. the two scouts kept on hiking until they were so fatigued that they both felt like crying. "i hope we're not lost," whimpered joan, wiping her eyes. "of course not! folks are never lost unless they get into a panic of fear," declared julie, keeping up her own courage by trying to boost that of her companion. again the girls climbed and climbed, until presto! right in front and down far below, was the lovely lake! oh, how beautiful it looked! they stood where they were for a few moments sighing in relief that now they were sure to be rescued. then julie frowned and looked at joan. "jo, is there anything wrong with my eyes? i can't see any meadow opposite us." "neither can i! there's a rocky pine-topped wall over there." "but there _was_ a flat meadow where we camped, wasn't there?" queried julie. "o julie, you're not going daffy, are you?" wailed joan. "good gracious! why do you ask such a thing! _was_ there a meadow over there?" screamed julie, shaking joan fearfully. "i've heard that folks lose their minds when they're lost in the wilderness," cried joan, forgetting to answer the all-important question about the meadow. "will you tell me what i want to know--_was there a meadow_?" yelled julie, stamping her foot vehemently as she spoke. she had been standing upon long wiry witch grass that had washed its blades downwards toward the lake, and having but little roothold in the thin layer of dried moss and top soil that was spread over the cliff, the sharp stamping of a scout heel loosened this slight attachment. then like a mirage in the desert, joan beheld her friend vanish! not swiftly and instantaneously, but slowly and surely, as the roots and matted surface reluctantly broke away because of julie's weight and downward gravity. "save me! oh jo! save me!" screamed julie, clutching wildly at scrub bushes that held tenaciously to the crevices and so gave her temporary resistance. but her weight always tore them away finally, and then she had to grasp the next one. "oh julie--come back! come back, don't leave me all alone in this wilderness!" wailed joan, wringing her hands. the sudden realization that joan thought only of herself in face of the calamity that threatened her friend, served to cool julie's fear; then she used common sense in sparing herself as far as possible. she was out of joan's sight now, and by making use of every bush, root, or vine on the slanting rocks, she resisted the force of gravitation enough to slide slowly instead of being catapulted from the heights. she knew not just where this chute would end--in deep or shallow water. if the former she still might swim to shore, if that were not too far away. the last few feet of this slide ended abruptly where the cliff had been worn away by the spring freshets and floods. here julie dropped into the water which formed a hole along the rockbound shore, so that she went in without striking anything, and immediately began swimming to free herself from the tangle of roots and dã©bris that fell with her. she swam for a distance until she found a narrow edge of sand where she might sit and rest in the sunshine. so she managed to reach this twenty-inch-wide refuge and shook out her hair to dry. she wondered what joan would do when she found she had to make her own way alone to the canoe! and the picture she painted of her erstwhile companion, stumbling along weeping, gave her some satisfaction. this spirit of vengeance, however, was soon gone, and a kindly feeling took its place. she began to plan how she might creep along that narrow edge of beach to reach the point on land where she could see the creek pouring into the lake. from there she could signal joan when she reached the canoe, and thus relieve her mind of the fear that her chum had been drowned. after overcoming many obstacles, she reached the jutting land that marked the entrance to the creek. the canoe had landed on the opposite side, further up stream. hardly had she gained the top of this promontory before she heard excited voices, and one above the others wailing dismally. instantly she knew joan was safe and that the others had arrived. a line of scripture flashed through her mind and caused her to smile--"the voice of one crying in the wilderness," quoth julie. no sooner had she grasped the fact that she would be with her old friends in a few moments, than she recovered all her old _sang froid_. she shook out her clinging clothes, and twisted up her half-dried hair, then sat down on top of the promontory and sang. yes, _sang_, and sang merrily, too, because she thought that would convey the impression of how unconcerned she felt. sound carries far over the water, so julie's singing was heard by the rescuers as soon as they came out into the lake. then they shouted, and she replied. finally they saw the solitary figure sitting upon a rock with both hands clasped about her knees, singing as if her heart was too full of joy to hold it all. the moment the canoes came near enough, the captain gazed up, and asked, "how can you get down, julie?" "same way i came up, verny--with my feet!" every one laughed, but mrs. vernon shook her head as she murmured, "same old julie! nothing on earth will quench that spirit." suddenly, to the horror of every one in the canoes, they saw a form shoot past them and dive into the water. but as suddenly, a laughing face appeared above the surface and soon julie was in one of the canoes. had it not been for the danger of upsetting, the occupants of that canoe would have hugged the scout in their relief at having found her safe and sound,--because joan's report had been more than despairing. "o julie, darling! i thought you were dead!" cried joan. "did you? but you wailed for yourself when you saw me go down to perdition," scorned julie. "but how did you manage to get down to the promontory, julie?" argued joan, ignoring the other's reply. "now, how do you s'pose? i motored there, of course!" when they all returned to the belated and cold dinner, it was late afternoon, and no one felt in the mood for fresh adventures that day. so they decided to camp on the lovely meadow for the night, and continue the trip in the morning. the three scouts who had been left in camp to guard the dinner were not told of the escape until later. as they all dawdled languidly over the last fragments of the supper, a silver bar slanted suddenly across their faces, and the very dishes were transformed into a shimmering glory. the broad shaft of light that shone from the newly-risen moon lighted up the whole meadow and penetrated far into the dark fringe of pines that bordered the meadowland. then the full moon rose higher in the vaulted dome of the blue heavens--heavens as blue as the venetian sea; and sharp points of starlight began to twinkle like tiny beacons on crafts at anchor in that peaceful haven of fathomless blue. chapter eleven on to flat top mountain what would a trip in the rockies mean without an indian guide? he is the most valuable asset one can have. no matter where he finds himself, under the greatest stress of difficult conditions and circumstances, the indian guide will manage to save the day. no human being can get as much out of nature as an indian. no one can find as desirable a campsite without loss of time. no one can make fire as quickly, pitch tents so securely, weave beds so comfortably, clean up so neatly, spin yarns so thrillingly, and smoke a pipe so contentedly, as an indian. so, in the early morning when the scouts awakened to the hope of new adventures, they found their guides preparing breakfast. julie and joan felt no after-effects of their unpleasant experience, other than in memory, and there was no reason for that to cripple either one. the breadtwists were baking, duck broiling, and other delicious odors coming from the campfire, so the girls speedily completed their bath and toilet for the day. then, the delicious breakfast out of the way, the kits were packed into the canoes, the scouts got in and sat down, and onward they traveled. at every turn in the stream new vistas of nature's varied beauties opened out before their admiring eyes, and every now and then, a scout would call, "take that picture, verny! it's wonderful." and the captain always snapped the scene. beautiful birds swung low on branches, with heads on one side, eyeing the strange creatures in the canoes. squirrels sat upon the boughs and threw nutshells at the scouts as the canoes passed under their perches. thus the hours flew by until night fell again. camp was made, supper cooked, indian legends told about the fire, then bed and refreshing sleep. beautiful weather blessed the scouts while on the canoe trip, and added to the enjoyment of the experience. many times they paddled through water that looked like molten silver, so heavy and opaque was it in the weird light. again they went along streams that reflected the sunset hues, and looked more like sheets of opal with its changeable colors of rose, lilac, and yellow-green. then this fading, translucent color would suddenly vanish, and all be dark! again there were times when the canoes threaded a way between towering cliffs that cast somber shadows down upon the waters, and other times when they rushed through gorges and gullies. hour after hour, day after day, sped on to join the yesterdays, with one thrilling experience after another passing into memories, and the scouts began to realize that their trip was almost ended. all the time the three indians paddled faithfully, carefully, and silently, as much a factor in the enjoyment of the marvelous scenes as the water or the forests. at last the scouts reached the great falls that marked the end of the journey, but they still had the joy of going back. so the backtrail began, with as many happy adventures as one can hope for on a canoe trip. no accident or disagreement marred the trip, and when they reached the rendezvous where they were to meet the riders who went over the divide, every one was satisfied. "'the end of a perfect day,'" sang julie, as she jumped out of the canoe. that same night mr. gilroy and mr. vernon hiked into camp and were received with noisy welcome. they were as wildly enthusiastic over the fine specimens they had secured in their side trips, as the scouts were over their canoe trip. then in the morning the riders came to camp, and after hearty thanks from both sides, the horses and canoes changed hands again. the kenmore party started down the stream, and the scouts rode away along the trail that led to glacier creek and to flat top mountain. the trails were rough but the horses were sure-footed, and all went well. they had gone some distance when just ahead, beside the trail they were following, they saw a beautiful sheet of water. it really was a wild tarn, placed in the pocket of the mountains that encircled it. "it looks just like a diamond sparkling in the deep prongs of these pointed peaks," said julie. "we've discovered a poetess, scouts!" exclaimed ruth, but julie frowned upon her. "we'll find many such pure jewels hidden in these settings," said mr. gilroy. "some are perched so high in the mountaintops that you wonder how they ever snuggle there. others are so deeply entrenched in terrifying chasms and ravines that only the intrepid ever see them. but most of these gems are made by the glaciers that carved out their basins by constant friction. the waters, so cold and pure, come from leaping cataracts and icy falls above, that flow from the melting ice fields during the summer." on the shores of one of these lovely lakes the indians made camp that night. the two scientists decided to study some of the peculiar formations found near the place, and the scouts were satisfied to enjoy a quiet rest for a time. with an acre or more of flower-dotted meadow on one side, rugged cliffs on another side, dark forests on still the third side, and tyndall glacier rising sheer from the fourth side, what more could adventurous youth ask? "girls," remarked mr. gilroy that evening, "this place offers us all we need for individual pastimes,--you to explore in the forests, and vernon and i to collect specimens. it's up to you to say how long we camp here. i'm ready to move on whenever you say." later, as they sat about the campfire, betty asked, "gilly, what is it that makes a glacier?" "is it the winter's snow that piles up on mountaintops and freezes?" added julie who, too, had been puzzling over the matter. "a glacier, girls, is an accumulation of ice in an altitude where the melting process is not equal to the deposit. every winter adds snow and ice to the peaks, and then when these slide down to milder areas, they melt and vanish into these rivers and tarns. "some of these glaciers found in the rockies were left here since the ice age, when the whole globe was ice-clad. the glacial rivers that flowed from these ice-peaks are mainly responsible for the wild scenery in these mountains. they cut a gully here, or scoop out a pit there, according to the force and size of the torrents. in thus forcing a way through every obstacle, these resistless currents carry along timber, soil, and rocks. "these, in turn, tearing and banging against other obstacles that resist them, finally carry _them_ along to add to the power of its ruthless progress. "through ages these ice torrents, starting from the highest peaks and coming down, down, down from one resting place to another, but always traveling downward and onward, moving mountains, as it were, changing the course of mighty rivers, filling up inland seas,--have given you this grand scenery of to-day. "not only do all kinds of dã©bris come flooding the valleys and lakes with this gushing from glacial fields, but gold and other precious metals are washed down and deposited. thus the seeker may find gold, if he is willing to sacrifice for it. "to warn you scouts that these glacial fields are not as safe as a floor in your home, let me tell you what happened to a party of mountain climbers. they were experienced men, too. "they were climbing mont blanc when a snowslide swept them away into a deep crevasse. one man escaped to tell the story. it was impossible to reach any of them, so the scientists figured out how long a time must elapse before the glacier would move down to give up its victims. computations had it that forty years must pass by and then the ice would reach a place where the bodies of the men would be recovered. forty-one years afterwards, far down the slope of that same mountain, the frozen forms of seven men were found and removed." "well, gilly, rest assured that not one scout will be found frozen that way, this year or forty years hence!" promised julie, emphatically. "not if we can help it!" seconded the girls. "see that you remember this vow, when you feel like a little adventuring over a peak," laughed mr. gilroy. a few days after this talk, the scouts begged the guides to take them on a hunting-trip,--not that they ever shot anything, but they liked to explore the forests and watch the animals browse or run away. so they hiked up the steep ascent of the mountain that rose many thousands of feet above the camp, and after startling several hares and other tiny creatures, they came upon a fox, dining upon a wild rabbit. but he leaped away almost before they had seen him, his great red brush disappearing between the trees. "wasn't he splendid!" exclaimed betty. "um! not scout scare him away--something comin' dis way," returned tally, peering eagerly into the dimness. "tally!" hissed omney suddenly, "grizzly!" at the same time the scouts distinctly heard a crashing through the dry branches of the down-timber. "clim tree--quick--in any one near!" warned tally, while he cocked his rifle to protect the scouts. "why don't _you_?" demanded julie, who stood back of the indians when the other girls scampered anxiously for aspens, or other "safety-first" places. "me fight!" "oh!" was all julie said, but she stood her ground behind the two indians, while her friends all begged her to seek a tree for safety. "i want to watch what is going on down here--you can't see a thing up in the foliage," called julie. "besides, i am safe because the bear will have to down the guides first, before he can get a mouthful out of me." but the grizzly must have caught a scent of the human beings who stood too near the tempting bit of rabbit right on the trail! so he sat upright on his haunches and waved his fearful paws threateningly, while he growled as if saying, "come on! i'm waiting for you folks. why don't you fight?" but the two guides and julie were so screened by the bush that the bear could not see them,--he merely scented them. then the wind shifted again, and the grizzly thought he was mistaken, for he smelled no further annoyance. but he decided to be cautious, as it always behooved him to be when man was at hand. so he gave voice to a terrifying roar, just to show these pigmies what would happen if they dared to interfere with his meal! [illustration: julie stood her ground behind the two indians] as he sat munching the mouthful of rabbit, blinking at nothing in particular, tally suddenly jerked his head sideways and took a searching look at the beast. then he leaned over and whispered to omney so softly that julie could not hear a sound. omney now stared at the bear in unbelief, but after gazing keenly, soon nodded his head anxiously. then, in another moment, two rifles were silently levelled, and two shots rang out. the grizzly rolled over while the rabbit still remained half-chewed in his great maw. "o tally! shame on you!" cried julie, furiously. the scouts now slid down the treetrunks and ran over. each one had a protest to register against the heartlessness of the indians. but they were over by the bear, turning him over on his side. "him be devil-bear!" exclaimed tally, excitedly. "um! bump on haid, scar on rump!" added omney. "what do you mean, boys?" now asked mrs. vernon. the scouts saw a great knob on one side of the bear's head, and an old scar that cleft his left hind-quarter almost in two. "dis ole devil-bear come down all time to ranches, kill calf, eat lamb, carry off ennything, an' nobuddy ketch him. evehbud' hunt and shoot, but devil-bear quick an' get away. he climb glacier, go over peaks, live evehwhere. "sometime him in flat top, nudder time him down in wyom. one time he run in denver, kill horse, scare evehbuddy away, den run back to flat top." tally laughed at the last memory. "him steal cattle, even fight ranchers, so big reward out fer him," added omney. "how can you be sure you have killed this demon?" asked mrs. vernon, eagerly. "we hear 'bout devil-bear and pickshers nail on all signboard for reward. big scar in rump, big lump on haid--him got 'em," tally replied. "um! dis scar make by rancher. one day he chop wood and fine sheep-dog play round. devil-bear steal out of woods, catch dog unner man's nose, and run away. rancher so mad he frow axe at bear, an' it hit right there," explained omney, poking his foot at the scar on the bear. "rancher say dat bear neveh walk gin, but nex' year nudder rancher see bear kill calf an' many lamb and run away," added tally. "then i'm glad you shot him!" declared betty, glaring at the dead beast. "but you've got to get him back to camp, boys, to get the reward," said mrs. vernon. the two indians considered this the least of their problems, and when they had tied the forelegs and the hindlegs together, they swung the heavy animal from a long pole they had cut down from a clump of pine. that night when mr. gilroy heard the story, he assured the scouts that the guides had really done a great service to the country at large, as this bear had terrorized every one in the mountain ranches. "as a rule, grizzlies are not ferocious except when interfered with. they use their fine intelligence to keep man at a safe distance with their roaring and display of fierce strength. but this rascal was the exception, and it's well he is dead," added he. "if the guides get the reward, the scouts ought to have the pelt," suggested mr. vernon. "i'll see to it that they do," returned mr. gilroy. the indians made quick work of skinning the beast and leaving the head on the body so the bump could be identified. the bear fat was tried out and saved by the guides, and several fine steaks were carved from the carcass and broiled, but the girls refused them. the men had no such qualms, however, and ate greedily, then smacked their lips laughingly at the disgust manifested on the scouts' faces. "devil-bear good eat!" chuckled tally, as he wrapped the remaining steaks in a paper for another time. when the campers resumed their ride, devil-bear--or all that was left of him--was packed on jolt's back. the mule cared not a fig for a dead bear, so the skin was carried along without demur, although the horses now and then caught a whiff of the bear-pelt and tossed their heads nervously. the trail up flat top mountain proved as wonderful as it had promised to be. the scouts rode their horses without a tremor, although at times they went on narrow ledges, forded roaring streams, or plunged down through gulches, and over down-timber. they steadily climbed all that day, and towards night were on flat top--twelve thousand, three hundred feet high. mr. gilroy reached his desired tyndall glacier, and so delighted was he that he acted like a boy with a new toy. here they camped for a few days while the scientist collected some interesting bits, then the party continued to the very top of the mountain. from this summit the scouts could see over the entire country for miles around. estes park looked like a tiny city park from that height. and long's peak appeared on a line with their sight. they could plainly see stone's and taylor's peaks, and also mt. hallett, while several famous lakes,--mills, bierstadt, dream, and others--were seen gleaming like sheets of blue ice down in the hollows between the crags. fresh camp was pitched that night under the shadow of a gigantic column of jagged rock that rose perpendicularly above the tableland of the peak. the base of the rock was about a quarter of a mile around, but one side of the monolith dropped sheer down to a cliff a thousand feet below. from that ledge it again dropped down to another rocky resting-spot hundreds of feet lower. thence it went straight down three thousand feet to the bottom of its stand, where it found a firm footing in the valley. as every one was tired with the climb of the day, they were soon fast asleep on the fragrant balsam beds, and slept until the snorting of the horses roused the indians, and then they, in turn, called to the others to get up. chapter twelve lost in a blizzard it was early dawn but such dark clouds obscured everything that the scouts thought it still was night. "bad storm blowin', mees'r gilloy. us hurry down f'om here," said tally, anxiously. "all right--all up, and hurry away!" shouted mr. gilroy, running for the horses, to help omney saddle them for the ride. soon thereafter, without stopping to attend to any of their customary toilets, the scouts were in the saddles and quickly following the guides down the trail on the opposite side from that they had mounted the day before. the blackness was now so thick that it was difficult to see any one ten feet ahead, and the girls could not see the trail at all. then tally suddenly shouted a warning to those behind him. "huddle togedder--blizzer comin' down now!" and in a few seconds, an unexpected breaking of the clouds drove thick smothery, enveloping snow across the plateau. even the heavy clouds seemed to choke everything in their folds. the wind, which blew a gale, uprooted trees and flicked them out of the way as if they were snips of paper. gusts of the mad tornado tore off great masses of the dark clouds and, eddying them about, whirled the vapor out of them, away down the sides of the mountain. trees, rocks, clods of earth, everything movable that presented an obstacle to the gale, was carried away like thistledown. the poor horses and pack-mules crouched close together, with heads low, making of their bodies as scant a resistance as possible against the storm, and at the same time providing shelter, with their steaming bodies, for the human beings who huddled under them. then, as suddenly as the storm broke, it ceased. a weird light played over the plateau for a time, and mr. gilroy noted the worried expressions of the indians. "what now, tally?" "us clim' saddles, stick gedder an' must get away!" shouted tally, trying to be heard above the soughing of the wind, that was now blowing from behind the crag. even as the riders tried to get into the saddles and start after tally, a chill filled the air. it crept into bones and marrow, and in a few minutes the full fury of the blizzard was felt. in less than five minutes after the first snow fell, everything was drifted under white blankets. the cold bit into human flesh like sharp points of steel, and it was certain that every one must get down from that altitude immediately or be frozen to death. the indians led the way, although they trusted their safety on these mountains entirely to the horses and their wonderful sense. the other riders tried to follow as closely as they could in the tracks made by the first two horses. then as they descended further from the plateau, the storm abated and the temperature felt warmer, until they reached the place where dripping snow from all the tree branches and rocks thoroughly soaked the unfortunates. the mountainside was cut up by ravines and gulches, or "draws" as they are called, made by erosion of mountain streams that came from the glacier on top of flat top. from one of these draws the scouts could look down for miles to a place where it widened out through the velocity of the roaring waters and unearthed everything in its floods. here and there great pines had fallen across and formed natural bridges over the chasms. at other spots the roots or branches of a tree washed down, would catch in the dã©bris of the sides of a draw, obstructing the way and holding up great masses of waste that accumulated rapidly about the twisted limbs, when the torrent washed everything against this comb, that caught the larger objects. so the file of riders went carefully downward, on the watch for a favorable trail that might lead them to the valley. but every draw they found was so forbidding that they were repulsed from trying it. some showed great rocks that might roll down at the slightest motion of the ground, and crush everything in their plunge. even as they pondered the chance of going down one of these, the water caused by the melting snow loosened the grip of a great fragment of rock held up in the gorge, and down it crashed! other draws displayed century-old snags, and down-timber that lay half-sunken in slimy ooze which trickled down from the mossy sides of the gully; these would suck in any horse or rider that was daring enough to try and go over them. finally, tally came to a draw which was not nearly so forbidding as the others, but it was a very deep chasm, and sent up echoes of roaring water in its bottom. "wad yuh tink, omney--do we try him?" asked tally. "tally, it looks terrifying!" gasped mrs. vernon. "not so bad as udder ones," remarked tally. "must we go down any of them?" asked mr. vernon. "mebbe we not find trail for two--four day, and grub mos' gone," returned tally, meaningly. "we've got to trust to tally's guidance, pards, so let us do exactly as he thinks best," added mr. gilroy. feeling somewhat dubious about the outcome of this ride, the two indians led down the steep sides of the gulch. the horses slipped, stumbled, and scrambled through the piled-up rubbish until it was a marvel that they had not broken legs and necks. the dã©bris carried down by the streams that emptied into the torrents at the bottom of the draw, formed almost impassable barriers to going onward. but the day was breaking, and this cheered every one tremendously. soon the darkness would be entirely dispelled and they could see just where the horses were stepping. "i'm so hungry i could almost eat this leather harness," remarked anne, sighing. "maybe we might catch something for an early breakfast, if we knew where to give our horses a stand while we hunted," said ruth. then, suddenly, they heard a crash of branches and rolling rocks, and there, outlined against the pale sky, stood a giant elk with head erect and ears attentive to the sounds from these riders. it was the first one the scouts had seen, and it was such a magnificent animal that a sight of it was thrilling. the elk waited with great antlers reared to their extreme height, long sensitive nose sniffing the air, and legs stiffened ready for a leap. the captain drew the camera from a side-pocket of the saddle and planned to get a picture. but the wary animal heard the click of the shutter and sprang fully fifteen feet across the chasm to gain a ledge of rock that hung dangerously out. every one gasped as he waited to see it miss footing, or roll down with the crag that surely would topple over with such added weight upon it. but the elk must have known its trail, for it lightly touched upon the rock, then vanished over the rim of the top. "there goes our venison steaks for breakfast!" sighed julie, making the others laugh in spite of their troubles. the sides of the canyon near the bottom were filled with dangerous sink-holes, or bogs, that were a constant menace to the riders. for let a horse slip into one of these and he might be sucked down instantly. but the animals were sure-footed and accustomed to such rough traveling, and they instinctively avoided all soft soil. ever and anon, a horse would slip on a rolling stone, or a hoof would break through rotten timber, so that the scouts were being constantly jolted one side or another. finally they found better going along a narrow ledge that looked like an old trail. but it began nowhere and ended--well, it terminated suddenly just ahead of tally's next step! "back! back!" yelled tally, dragging on the reins with all his might. that effectually halted the others, who were so close behind him, and mr. vernon leaned over to ask, "what is it, tally?" "big hole--she go down mebbe fifty feet to bottom. gotta back out and go round nudder way." "oh, mercy sakes! back out all along this narrow ledge?" cried the scouts. but while they spoke, jolt passed them, going on the verge of the ledge, and causing every one to tremble for his life. when he was passing tally, the guide shouted angrily, "whoa! whoa!" but jolt acted exactly like a sleep-walker does. he paid no attention to sight or sound, and in another moment he would have walked right over the edge of the precipice, had not tally jumped from his saddle and caught hold of the guide rope that had been tied to his halter before entering the gully. this slight hold, however, did not save the mule from disappearing over the verge of the cliff, and it almost yanked tally over, too. the only thing that saved the guide was omney, who jumped to assist his friend when jolt went by. the rope was instantly wound about a tree stump and braced. then tally climbed warily to safety, before the loose shale should crumble in with his weight. every one had been speechless with horror a moment before, but now every one spoke with loosened tongue. "the mule had all the food-stuffs," said anne. "and the camp outfit as well," added mr. vernon. "just think of the poor thing--down there crushed to bits," wept betty. some felt sorry for jolt, and some felt sorry for themselves. then tally said, "eef light scout crawl ober an' tell what her see jolt doin', mebbe we save him." betty was the lightest so she offered her services. she was tied securely to one of the ropes that hung on the saddle-horn, and tally advised her what to do. "crawl to edge, look down. tell what jolt do, or eef he mashed in bottom!" so betty crept slowly over the shale and reached the edge of the ravine. she peered down, and the sunlight that shone through the trees just then, helped her to see plainly. "jolt's standing on a wide ledge of rock about twenty feet lower than this one. his packs are gone--guess they tumbled down when the straps burst open. but there isn't any _spare_ room for him to exercise on," reported betty. "did you say he was standing upon his feet?" asked mr. gilroy, unbelievingly. "yes, with his head facing towards the outlet of this chasm. he hears me talking, 'cause i see him prick up his long ears." "al' light," said tally, joyfully. "tell me, do ledge end in hole like dis-a-one do?" "no, it looks as if it ran right down to the valley, tally. i can see the sunlight down at the end, about a mile away." that caused great joy in each heart, and tally said, "al'light, now come back." so the scout crawled back, while tally spoke with omney and planned what to do. the result of this conversation was then apparent. tally tied a long rope to his own waist, and omney began paying out the rope as the indian went over the edge of the gulch. every one held his breath to wait developments. then they heard tally shout, "al'light--le' go." "now us back out--tally ride jolt down valley," announced omney. "o hominy! do you think the mule is all right?" cried ruth. "tally say so. us go back now." so back they went in every sense of the word--back along the ledge, and backwards all the way. the horses climbed the rocky slope and went along the top-side of the chasm, but it was no better adapted for comfortable riding than the bottom had been. after an hour of dreadful jumps and jolts and slips, the riders came out to the valley that betty had spoken of, at the end of the draw. there stood tally, grinning with good news. "fine camp!" "but where is jolt?" demanded the scouts. "him dockered up wid bear-grease, bandages, an' herb!' laughed tally, pointing to a place where they could see a mule taking things easy on the grass. "got packs out, tally?" asked omney. "us go in get 'em now, omney. scouts make camp an' we come back wid grub, pooty soon." so the two guides rode in through the chasm again, along the bottom beside the river, and the scouts rode on to make camp where tally had directed them. there the scouts found one of the most interesting shelters of all on that camping-trip. it was discovered under the wide overspreading boughs of a clump of firs which had so grown that a perfectly clear and covered area in the center provided a nature-made house. while ruth and betty were ordered to clean up the sticks and stones on the ground under the trees, the other girls gathered balsam and made the beds. the two men went to fish, and the captain built a good fire to cook the combination breakfast and dinner, as it was now long past noon. tally and omney came back after a long absence, but they had the packs, a little the worse for the fall, to be sure. "i see this is the last can of soup and our last can of beans," ventured mrs. vernon, when she opened the food-pack. "um! us know rancher--plenty grub in him lodge," said tally, significantly. everybody laughed at his wink that accompanied the words. the ride from flat top had been so strenuous that the scouts camped that night in the fir-tree lodge, as they had called it. all retired early, as they hoped to make a start at dawn in order to reach the rancher's, where tally said he could buy a stock of food. but a number of timber wolves howled about the camp all the night through, keeping the tired travelers half-awake. towards dawn they must have followed another scent, as all was quiet in the forests thereafter. the captain was startled out of a sound sleep by a strange "s-swish"--close to her ear. springing up with the remembrance of the wolves, she heard tally whisper through the pine-boughs, "tell scout come see caribou in valley." in a few moments every one was up and out of the tree-lodge. the scouts saw the men crouching down behind a large boulder that stood near the verge of a steep descent to the green valley below. the curious girls soon joined them and then witnessed a most unusual sight. down in the valley, several hundred yards away, was a herd of caribou grazing on the juicy grass. a fine buck with antlers spreading far from each side of his head, jumped about as if worked by springs. if a cow got in his way he stamped his polished hoofs and threatened her with his flattened horns. but the cows seemed not to mind such idle threats on the part of the bull, and continued grazing. julie laughed. "they're suffrage caribou--they know how a male talks fine but seldom does what he brags about!" this started an animated argument between mr. gilroy and the scout leader, which was suddenly hushed by the behavior of the buck. he lifted his nose, sniffed angrily and stamped his hoof in token that he resented any interference with his family's breakfast. "what's the matter with him?" asked joan in a whisper. "maybe he scented human beings watching him," suggested anne. tally shook his head, but in another moment the scouts learned what had caused his annoyance. he now sounded a warning to the cows, and they all lifted their heads instantly and sniffed as the buck had done. "dear me, i hope they won't run away," wished ruth, and then she saw that they would not run--they would defend themselves. from out the dark fringe of forest there now crept a number of lean hungry timber-wolves, looking like long grey shadows of the trees. so slowly and noiselessly did they move that only animals trained to defend themselves in the wilderness would have known an enemy was so close at hand. as they moved, the four men silently lifted their rifles, and waited for the signal from tally to shoot. "are those the wolves we heard last night?" asked julie. "most likely, or some like them," returned mr. gilroy, in a whisper that only those next him could hear. "um! t'ree of 'em--get reward fur dem coyotes!" grinned omney. the caribou, warned in time by the bull, saw the skulking beasts creeping, creeping like the shadows towards them, and they instantly formed their defence, as they always do in case of extreme danger when it is wiser to fight than to fly. with their hind legs closed together like the center of a wheel, and their heads presenting antlers pointing towards the enemy like bayonets on the defence line in a battle, the herd stood perfectly still and waited. "wonderful sight!" breathed mrs. vernon. "oh, for that camera! it is in the duffel-bag," sighed julie. but the scene now grew too exciting for any scout to yearn over forgotten kodaks, for the wolves were almost near enough to begin their raid. the four rifles still pointed directly at them, but the signal was not yet forthcoming. tally knew when to fire. just as the foremost wolf rose on his hind legs to hurl himself at the caribou nearest him, and the bull bellowed madly and wheeled to attack, tally signaled. four spurts of blue and four streaks of red--and three timber wolves rolled over dead! at the sound of those dire sounds which the bull understood to be as deadly as a wolf, he lifted his snout high in the air, called hastily to his herd, and the wheel broke--the caribou trotted away swiftly and disappeared in the forest. "that certainly was a sight worth seeing," sighed the captain. "but i must hang that camera about my neck, day in and day out, or i shall miss the best pictures every time." at breakfast that morning mr. gilroy said, "i had planned to cross the continental divide at milner's pass, because of the beauties of the fall river road, but this unexpected slide down from flat top yesterday, disarranged all these plans. what shall we do about it?" "what was your next point of interest, had we gone over the pass as you had planned?" asked mrs. vernon. "well, you see, i thought we would land somewhere near beaver creek on the western slope of the divide. i know a number of ranchers living about that section, and i thought the scouts might enjoy spending a week or so on these ranches." "if it's all the same to you, gilly, we'd rather enjoy the wildlife of the rockies instead of ranching," ventured julie. "oh, it's all the same. in fact, i'd rather not use any time on the ranches while i still have many interesting moraines to explore," said he. "then we'll plan a new route. what would you do next?" said the captain. "we are near the meadow fork of grand river, i think, and we can follow that to reach grand lake. then we can trail from there, along the north fork of the grand, until we reach hot sulphur springs. after a visit to the springs, we can go down gorã© canyon, cross the gorã© range, and thus reach steamboat springs." "all right, let's do as you just said," remarked mr. vernon. "tally give up devil-bear and timber wolves at spring," now said tally. "all right, tally, but don't you think the girls ought to share in the reward for the wolves? we helped shoot them," said mr. gilroy. "um, sure! scout git devil-bear money, too!" said tally, amazed that any one should have thought otherwise. "how so?" demanded julie. "tally 'gree to guide, hunt, fish, help mees'r gilloy an' scout all way frough summer. devil-bear kill in hunt, but tally paid for time," explained the indian, thus refuting the reputation many white men give the indian, that he will take advantage of other races every chance he gets. "oh, no, tally! we wouldn't think of such a division!" exclaimed the captain. "give us the pelts and you take the reward." as this suggestion was seconded by the others, tally and omney grinned joyously, for it was a windfall they had not looked for. further along the trail, tally turned off to stop at a ranch-house and lay in a supply of flour and what other edibles the ranch-owner would sell him. then they continued over the mountains. had the scouts come suddenly upon the continental divide they would have been speechless with the grandeur of it, but they had been riding past and over many peaks, canoeing down marvelous waterways, and had climbed all the ranges that led to the divide, so that they scarcely realized that they were crossing the stupendous elevation until they heard tally speak. "mos' over now, foothills all way to sulphur springs." as they rode on, looking for meadow fork, along which mr. gilroy wished to trail, many questions were asked by the scouts and answered by the indians. ruth then said, "i've heard a lot about hot sulphur springs, gilly, but what thrilling sight shall we find there?" "its name might lead you to believe you would see the apparition who is said to have charge of all sulphur worlds," said julie, giggling. "also you will have an opportunity to taste the nastiest drinking water he--julie's friend--ever sent bubbling forth," added mr. gilroy, quickly. "that friend and i had a falling out and now we are not on speaking terms!" retorted julie, and the others laughed. "why stop there, then? let's go on to gorã©'s canyon,--that sounds awfully thrilling," remarked joan. "is it named gory, gilly, because so many red men scalped the early settlers out here?" asked betty. "oh, no," laughed mr. gilroy. "it is named after an irish nobleman, sir george gorã©, who discovered the canyon while he and a party of friends were hunting big game in the rockies many years ago, before folks went over the divide. in those days it was considered a marvelous feat to go into the rockies." "if every one can have a mountain named after them, why can't i have one called 'juliet's peak'?" demanded the irrepressible scout. "you can, if you like. that is the easiest part of all, but how will other tourists know that that particular peak is named for _you_?" laughed mr. gilroy. "you'd have to advertise the fact by some wild adventure, or great patriotic deed," added mr. vernon. "oh, i can advertise, all right!" retorted julie. "i'll take a great bucket of whitewash and a calcimine brush; then on every flat-faced rock along the trail, up one side and down the other, i'll slap a hand-painted sign on every one of them: 'this is juliet's peak,' and the finger in ghostly white will point to my peak." her ridiculous explanation caused every one to laugh, but when jolt turned and opened his jaw wide to emit the grating sound "hee--haw! hee--haw!" the riders declared it was screamingly opportune of the mule. late in the afternoon, the second day from flat top, the scouts had their first battle with a rattlesnake. it is claimed that one never sees a rattler on the east slope of the rockies,--why, it is not stated. but one certainly encounters many of them on the west side and on other ranges in colorado. they were jogging along comfortably when julie's horse suddenly leaped aside and climbed a steep bank beside the trail. the other horses trembled, and instantly the warning rattle sounded. tally hurried back and saw a huge reptile coiled at one side of the trail, half-hidden under a bush. he jumped from the saddle and snapped a hickory stick from a young sapling nearby. then he whipped the rattler over the back. he could not break its back as the bush fended the blows. but omney and tally could so tire the reptile with blows that kept its head swinging from side to side, that finally they might jump on it. the scouts sat and watched this interesting fight, the rattler darting its forked tongue venomously at the sticks, and in so doing having to turn its head from one to the other. this defence kept it from uncoiling and gliding away. neither could it spring from the coil to strike while its head was so busy. at last it showed signs of weariness, and once, when it momentarily forgot to strike at tally's whip but struck twice in succession at the stick omney wielded, the former took instant advantage of it, and in another moment his heel was planted upon the flat head. then the guides dragged the sinuous reptile out and measured it. it was fully five feet long, from head to tip of tail where ten rattles were attached. tally removed these, and with a bow presented them to the captain,--an honor shown all tenderfeet in the rockies, if a rattler is encountered by the natives. "him make fine money book, er belt," suggested omney, when the scouts shuddered at the diamond-backed rattler. "oh, yes, we must send the skin home to be cured and made into souvenirs, girls!" exclaimed mr. gilroy. in vain did the riders look for other rattlers after that, for every one wanted every skin that could be gotten for souvenirs. mr. gilroy rode along, watching for the familiar landmarks that would tell him he had found meadow fork, but he finally admitted that he must have taken the wrong turn back by the ranch. they rode past lovely streams and camped beside a most enchanting lake, then on, alongside a fine river, but mr. gilroy did not find his meadow fork or grand lake. finally, from the summit of one of the lower peaks on the western slope of the rockies, the scouts saw a valley spread out before them, and concentrated in one spot of this valley were numerous dots, that were dwelling-houses, together with several large ones, that denoted they were hotels. mr. gilroy rubbed his eyes, then stared. "now, if i did not know better, i'd swear that that was sulphur springs." "'tis sp'ings," chuckled tally. "but, tally, it can't be! we haven't found meadow fork or grand river, yet! have we trailed along some other way?" wondered mr. gilroy. the town proved to be the springs, and there mr. gilroy learned that he had been riding along meadow fork, had camped at grand lake, and then followed grand river, without knowing it. this error in judgment gave the scouts a never-ending chance for teasing him, thereafter. that night the horses, as well as their riders, were glad to stretch out upon comfortable town-made beds, and in the morning the breakfast was already provided for all, instead of their having to first gather it. the first thing the guides did after breakfast was to cash in their reward for devil-bear. the skin proved their claim, and word instantly circulated that two indians had killed the menace of the ranches. the scouts received the reward for the tongues of the timber-wolves which tally had brought into town, and thus the scouting party soon found fame camping on their doorstep. the local papers made much of them, and the girls took a keen delight in mailing home copies of the papers containing the account of their exploits. chapter thirteen a forest fire "now, friends, let us get away as soon as possible, or the guides may spend all their reward money on firewater, and be unable to start for a week," suggested mr. gilroy, confidentially, to the scouts. "why don't you take the money and deposit it for them in a bank?" asked julie. "i offered to keep it for them, but they were not overanxious to part with the cash. i know the boys too well to dream that they can withstand temptations of a town when they have such easy money to burn." so the riders planned to leave immediately, starting away soon after the midday meal. "i'm not sorry to leave the springs with its ailing visitors behind," remarked joan, as they got back into the saddles. "thank goodness we are not rheumatic, or gone to pieces, to have to come here to be mended again," declared julie. "i should think the horrid water would kill them, instead of curing," added ruth, making a wry face at the remembrance of her taste of the waters. "it isn't the water that cures, remember," said mr. gilroy, "it is the people's faith in it. and some folks believe that the more disagreeable a cure tastes, the better it will act." from hot sulphur springs the party rode through gorã© canyon, and then over the gorã© range, as mr. gilroy had planned. the climb up the latter mountains was one of the thrilling experiences of the trip. following tally through an unbroken wilderness, they unexpectedly came upon an old lumber-road. along this they trailed until it ended in a natural clearing of over a thousand acres. the park was surrounded by dense forests with apparently no trail leading from it. "here we are, boys! in, all right, but no way out," called mr. vernon, smiling at the perplexed looks of the riders. "that means that every one has to hunt for a blaze of some kind," returned mrs. vernon. "the blazes are here, all right, but the trail is such an old one that the young timber has, likely, grown up and hidden the old pines which carry the signs," added mr. gilroy. thereupon, every scout began to thrash through bushes and between young trees, hunting for the much-desired blaze. it was betty's luck to find it, although she really wasn't looking as anxiously for it as were the other scouts. she saw a queer scar on an old pine before her when she broke through some brush, and she was studying its strange formation when tally came up behind her. he recognized the blaze and laughed. "betty find him! come see!" shouted he. the others galloped across the park and stared at the deeply scarred pine, while tally read its meaning to them. "it must have been blazed in the days of the first people," said julie. but little attention was paid her remark, as every one was eager to go on. tally broke a way through the jungle of bush and young timber, and finally they all came out to the silent woods again. they rode through twilight forests of gigantic red-spruce trees, measuring from three to six feet in diameter and towering over a hundred feet in height. the ground under these was carpeted with pine needles, which lay, year after year, until no sound echoed from the hoofbeats upon them. looking in any direction, the scouts could see only dense forests, with not a crevice in their vaulted roofs of green where the sun might filter through. these pines seemed to waft down virgin incense upon the heads of the riders, who fully appreciated the still beauty of the place, and the velvety corridors they went along. then the trail became steeper, and the trees grew smaller, allowing great splashes of sunshine to bask here and there upon the passive treetrunks, or to sprawl out upon the thick pine needles that covered the ground. after riding for several hours, the scouts left the pine forest behind, and rode out upon a faint trail that ran through aspen brakes. now and then they came to parks where the trail lost itself, and every one had to seek for it again. a great deal of time was lost in each park they came to, over thus finding the trail, as so many misleading ones were made in the thick buffalo grass by wild animals that came to graze there. the only thing tally relied upon for the right way was by finding a blaze upon an old tree nearby. during the climb, the horses often came upon sudden precipitous descents that had to be zigzagged down through loose stone and dã©bris, then up again on the other side. when the riders reached the highest altitude of the gorã© range and looked about, they found themselves among sheer cliffs, that obstructed any distant views. "feels like lunchtime to me," ventured anne. "i should think you'd say dinnertime--that's the way it feels to me," laughed julie. "i was afraid to say that, because i am always credited,--unjustly of course,--with being the gourmand of the troop," retorted anne. tally now led along a trail that ran through a small park, that lay between two towering cliffs which shut off all sight of anything on either side of them. along the bottom of this ravine-like park a clear stream of water gurgled noisily. "shall we camp here for luncheon?" asked the captain, seeing the sweet green grass and cooling stream. "oh, no, verny! let's find some woods to stop in. it's not very inviting to feel shut in so far down," returned julie. so they rode on, the horses picking their careful way over stones and roots, and their riders having to pay strict attention to the trail. the trail wound about upthrusts of rock, where other streams ran to fall down the sides of the ravine, causing it to widen as it needed more space to carry the added waters. and at last, the scouts could see, in the distance, that the cliffs ahead ended and the stream also passed from view. "where the cliffs end will be a dandy spot for camp. we shall be able to sit and gaze over the park that most likely is to be found there," suggested joan, eagerly. "if you don't camp somewhere soon, you'll find me ended there!" sighed anne, comically. before they reached this "end" however, the captain held up a hand for silence, as she said, "that's a queer sound i hear!" the others reined in their horses and listened. they then heard it, also. mr. vernon said, "sounds like thunder, i think." "no, it sounds more like a stampede of cattle on a ranch. if you've ever heard the hoofbeats of a herd of steer, you'd know that this is like it," came from mr. gilroy. tally grinned at both men. "him waterfall!" "waterfall! all that volume of sound?" asked mr. gilroy, skeptically. "him _big waterfall_," repeated tally. "let's hurry to find it, then!" declared julie, urging her horse forward and gaining the corner of the cliff at the end of the ravine, ahead of her companions. the crags completely hid all that might be beyond them; but as the riders went along, the volume of sound increased until the roaring of water convinced every one that the indian must be right in his surmise. then they passed around the obstructing crag, and sat spellbound at the panorama spread out before them. the first glimpse of this tremendous waterfall was that of tawny green water bounding headlong over the precipice. its dynamic vehemence had cleft a fearful way through the crags on either side of it, and adown its course one could see black hulks of rock that projected out from the swirling flood. the roar and thunder of this tremendous stream prevented any one from hearing other sounds. the group of riders sat enthralled by the sight, then they next permitted their eyes to wander beyond the immediate falls to the magnificent view spread out in such space below and beyond. in the far distance the snow-capped peaks lay, one behind the other, until they were lost to sight in the drifting clouds on the horizon. but, as if loath to merge so quickly with the clouds, here and there one or more peaks would appear with their sharp points above the mist, and there reflect the glory of the shining sun. from the far horizon and its peaks, the eyes now dropped gradually from one height to the next lower down, until they rested upon a valley that lay fully fifteen hundred feet below the crags where the scouts stood. the panorama was so vast in extent and so impressive in its sense of infinitude, that the spectators scarcely drew their breath. the whole scene shimmered through the soft clouds that hung above the waterfalls and made it look like the reflections in a soap-bubble, with iridescent colors shining on the sphere. so ethereal appeared the picture that it seemed as if a slight vibration would surely shatter the bubble. this grand painting had existed here for centuries before the coming of the scouts to admire it, and there it promised to remain intact for centuries more after mortals should pass from the earth. here and there across this valley a ribbon of water wound a silent course away out of sight. from the great falls a mighty river flowed for miles until that, too, appeared like a silver ribbon, tying the land fancifully in its loops. the silence was broken at last by anne. "can we find a better place for dinner than this grand cliff?" the tension broke with a snap, and the others glared at the perplexed scout. finally julie cried, scornfully, "can you find anything in that scene besides patches where food is grown?" good-natured anne laughed, and shrugged her shoulders. "i think it is as beautiful as the great spirit ever made, but unfortunately i am not yet entirely spiritual. i find i must eat a bite now and then, to enable me to enjoy these pictures." her excuse for the interruption made every one laugh, and mrs. vernon then added, "i think anne's suggestion very good,--to camp here and have dinner." "let hominy lead the horses back to the grassy ravine to graze, while tally cooks dinner," added mr. vernon. so omney rode back, leading the rest of the horses and the two pack-mules. tally soon had the dinner cooking, but there was no chance of catching fish in that swift water, so they were satisfied that day with pork and beans, bread and jam for dinner. after descending the last rampart of the gorã© range, the scouts heard tally speak confidently of the locality they were in, but mr. gilroy seemed to differ with the guide. "me think us mos' here," insisted the indian. "maybe you're right! i was mistaken before, so i'll give in," laughed mr. gilroy. "what is it, gilly?" asked some of the scouts. "tally says we are nearly at steamboat springs, and i say we are not. now we will see who is right!" they had not gone much farther along the trail, however, before the scouts discovered strawberries! great luscious wild berries they were, and growing profusely everywhere in the grass. "i guess tally was right," admitted mr. gilroy. "we're in the wonderful strawberry belt that is so famous about steamboat springs." colorado strawberries are as famous, throughout the west, as the rockyford melons are in the east; so the scouts made the most of their opportunity to eat the delicious berries while they were at the springs. they visited the plants where berries are packed and shipped, and also visited a factory where jams were prepared. this progressive little town, although so young, compared favorably with the larger cities of the east. it was equipped with electric light, telephones, paved streets, first-class public service, and other modern welfare improvements. the evening after the scouts had visited the packing-houses that shipped strawberries to the markets, mr. gilroy sat studying a large map. julie kept silent for a long time (for her) and finally spoke. "what's the map for? any change in plans?" "i was figuring out whether or not we might possibly have time to go on a tangent trip, and take in yellowstone park, as long as we are so near wyoming," he returned. "oh, fine! do let's do that, verny!" cried several of the girls. "but that means an extended trip, mr. gilroy, and i do not see how we are going to finish all you have planned and still get back to denver in time to take these girls back to school in september," remonstrated mrs. vernon. an argument instantly followed, in which the scouts sided with mr. gilroy, arguing that time was no consideration when such wonderful sights as the geysers of the yellowstone could be seen. mrs. vernon was firm, however, in her protest that school came before all such other considerations. mr. vernon also added his weighty decision by saying that he had to be back in new york city the first week in september, without fail. "then we will have to retrace our trail across the rockies and travel slowly southward on the west side of the mountains," was mr. gilroy's reluctant rejoinder. "does that mean we can't go any farther than steamboat springs?" asked julie, querulously. "we might go on to craig, and visit cedar mountain from the peak of which we can look over into wyoming. that seems to be as near to it as we will come this summer," laughed mr. gilroy. julie pouted, and the other scouts sat and waited for developments. mr. vernon thought for a time, then turned to his friend with a suggestion. "you wanted to cross the divide at milner's pass because of the scenic beauty of the fall river road; now, why not cross it in going back to the eastern slope of the rockies, and thence turn south?" "i had thought of doing that, but the point at issue now seems wyoming 'to be or not to be?'" "that was just settled, as far as uncle and i are concerned," added mrs. vernon, hastily. "it's 'not to be' because i swore solemnly that these girls would be home before labor day if they were permitted to take this trip. so home we go in time to begin school the first day of the fall term." "dear me! it looks as if verny had the wire-pulling this time!" sighed joan, in such a tone that every one laughed. "and of course where _she goes_, i have to follow!" said ruth. "yes, sort of a 'ruth and naomi' proposition," retorted julie. this decision reached, without further resistance from the scouts, they retired for the night with the plan agreed upon to leave steamboat springs in the morning and start for the park range of the divide. the packs had been well filled for the new venture in the mountains, and having breakfasted royally early in the morning, the tourists started out on the trail. the horses had had such a good rest and the mules were so frisky again, that the line of riders made splendid time from steamboat springs to the hills. they had climbed up one mountain and down the other side, then the next one, and then another, until tally called a halt for something to eat. it was long past noon, and the horses were hungry, too. they were very near the summit of one of the lower ranges of mountains, and mr. gilroy suggested that they go on to the top and there rest and eat. "and look out for a stream of water which is palatable for use," added mr. vernon. as they rode to the summit of the mountain, the scouts conversed with mr. gilroy on various matters. but the thing that seemed to impress them most, was the fact that here they were back in the same mountains, and yet every day added new scenes and delights to the tour. "it really doesn't seem as if we had ever been in one of these mountains before, because every step brings out new wonders," remarked mrs. vernon, as they all neared the top of the peak they had been ascending. the sound of falling water now attracted tally's attention, and he broke into the heavy undergrowth to locate the stream. this done, he came back and reported that he had found a fine place for the dinner. they all dismounted at the spot, and the two men started downstream to fish, while the guides assigned various tasks to the different members of the party. then, when the scouts had finished their work and the men were not yet back from fishing, they climbed to a crag of rock whence they expected to have a fine view. "well, did you ever!" exclaimed ruth, the first to reach the top of the crag. "what a queer fog for a mountainside!" was julie's reply. the other scouts now crowded up to see what caused these remarks, and as they gazed down upon a thick mantle of yellow, one of the girls called to mrs. vernon. she hastily climbed up beside them and looked as perplexed as her charges. "tally," called she, turning to beckon the indian, "see if this is smoke, will you?" "him smoke!" affirmed tally, the moment he saw the blanket beneath them. "what! a fire in the forest?" cried several of the girls. "then we can't go through, can we?" asked julie. "mebbe. us wait and see," returned tally. "but scout get camera ready _dis_ time. fine picksher pooty soon when an'mals run f'om fire." "verny, get the camera! hurry up!" exclaimed the scouts, while tally returned to his cooking. his indifference to the fire that enveloped the forest tended to allay any fears they might have had. so they sat and watched the consuming flames as they swept across the forest and everywhere destroyed the fine timber. unfortunately, the fire started at the base of the mountain so it quickly spread upward; had it begun at the top it would have burned itself out slowly for lack of fuel above where the draught always blows it. joan now leaned forward, and cried, "look, quick!" the scouts turned to gaze in the direction she pointed, and saw a number of beavers crossing a small park in order to reach a stream that flowed through the clearing. immediately after the colony of beavers came a few deer, stopping now and then to turn and stare wonderingly at the heat that caused them such discomfort. then, to the amazement of the scouts, a large bear followed upon the heels of the deer, but he had no thought now of making a meal of venison. he seemed anxious only to reach a place where smoke and fire would not annoy him. now and then the girls saw him stop, return a few paces and sound a queer growl. then they saw the cause of this action. a fat little cub finally ran out from the thick blanket of smoke, and hurried after its mother. when it came up to the old bear, it jumped about gleefully, never dreaming of the danger they were fleeing from. but the she-bear evidently thought this was no time for unseemly play, and gave the cub a smart cuff over the ear. the little fellow rolled over with the force of the slap, but then ran along beside his mother in meek submission to authority. tally now joined them again on the crag, and when the scouts had told of the bear, ruth added, "but there are no birds escaping, tally." "dem gone long go. fire drive dem firs'." "i'm glad of that, but just think of all the fledglings that _can't_ fly and escape," said betty. "let's think of something pleasanter," retorted julie. "yes, let's think of dinner that tally says is waiting," added anne, laughingly. as they sat down to dine, the scouts saw omney sitting up on their former post of observation. as they wanted to ride on as soon as possible, one of the scouts asked why the guide didn't eat his dinner, too. "him watch if fire jump. him kin eat dere as here." "the fire is burning the other way, tally," said julie. "mebbe him jump back, if wind change. so omney watch." "if it blows this way, what must we do?" asked the captain. "ride back trail us come. an' ride fas', too." but the fire kept on burning its way in the direction it began to go, and after a long rest on the crags to permit the pall of smoke to be blown away, the guides led the way down the slope. all the down-timber had been burned to ash which was still hot in spots. so the horses picked their way between these heaps. every vestige of brush, all vegetation, and living creatures were gone. charred tree trunks showed where the flames had licked up the bark to get at the pine branches overhead, and there, high above the heads of the riders, the fire still raged through the resinous tops. "it's a sodom and gomorrah for desolation, isn't it?" said julie. in all the fire-swept district the scouts saw not one charred body of animals that live in the woods. a coyote lay at the edge of the area, dead from the blow of an animal with sharp claws, but that had happened after the fire. julie thought the bear probably did it because the horrid little coyote tried to get a bite of fat little cub. "but see all the poor, poor trees," sighed betty. "yes, these fires destroy more timber than all other forces put together," returned mr. gilroy. "because of the resinous matter in pine or spruce, they burn quicker and make a hotter fire than other trees. but fortunately for future forests, the flames never can reach the roots and seedlings buried under ground, so these shortly sprout up and start new timber. "it is not often that a fire sweeps over the same area again for centuries, unless some fool tenderfoot leaves a campfire burning, or shakes the hot ashes from a pipe." they all rode forward as quickly as possible, for night was coming on apace, and every one was anxious to get out of the burnt district before dark. so they pitched camp as soon as they got beyond the fire line. that night, flares like torches shot up from many of the standing trees on the hillside, and they continued burning for several days after the under fire had passed along. the light from these treetops cast weird shadows upon the camp. "i never want to see another forest-fire," declared joan, as she turned her face away from these flickering glares. "none of us do, but as long as there _was_ a fire, we are glad to have seen it," replied julie. "and i'm glad it was a _little_ one," added the captain. "you wouldn't say that was a little fire, would you?" asked several of the scouts. "tally said it was not over a mile frontage, and that, he says, is a small one. if we saw a fire that stretched for miles along a forest ridge and kept on burning for days and days,--that, he claims, would be a big fire!" all through that night blood-curdling cries came from the devastated district. the howls of panthers, growls of the bears, cries of coyotes, and yelps of timber-wolves, kept the campers awake. in the morning, tally started early to seek the cause of such a clamor in the night. "dat ole dead coyote! him mak all dat trubble," laughed the guide, upon his return to camp. "dem starvin' an'mals all wand'da eat him, so dey fight and fight, but ole grizzle fight bes' an' git him." chapter fourteen lost in the bad lands the following day the guides led the way up and down the sides of mountains, sometimes the trail running beside steep cliffs that rose sheer above the tourists' heads, and again past ravines where rushing, tumbling waters silenced all other sounds. about noon of the third day after leaving steamboat springs, they reached the steepest climb of that trip. as they were nearing the top of the peak, tally's horse suddenly fell over on its side and kicked its heels wildly. the guide managed to jump clear of the leather and wild kicks, but the other riders sat speechless with fear at what was going to be the result of this awful spectacle. before any one had time to offer help, however, the horse mr. gilroy rode did the same. the scouts immediately started to dismount, for they feared what might happen if their animals rolled and plunged as the first two were doing. "are they having fits?" asked julie, anxiously. "no, the unusually steep climb and the altitude affects horses this way quite often," explained mr. gilroy. "i wish they'd let the rider know before they flop that way," said joan, "then we might jump clear of their hoofs." "if one had time to warn others of what was about to happen unexpectedly, very few people would have accidents," laughed mrs. vernon. in a few minutes the horses got upon their feet, shook themselves thoroughly, and then waited to proceed on the trail. another halfhour's climb and they all reached the top of the peak. after leaving the timber-line, the riders found the scrub bushes grew scraggier and shorter, and finally the top of the peak was left as bare and craggy as any volcanic formation. from the top of one of these crags, tally peered across an expanse of what looked like a rolling sea, but it was grey instead of blue-green. when mr. gilroy saw this sea of sand, he quickly adjusted his glasses and gazed silently for a long time. "well, tally, what do you make it out to be?" asked he. "him bad land--but i not know him in our way," returned the guide, apologetically. "that's what i think about him--very bad land," chuckled mr. vernon, shading his eyes with both hands and staring down at the desert. "what does that mean, uncle? do we have to cross it?" asked julie. "either cross it, or go back the way we climbed and try to go around it--that means several days wasted on back-trailing." "i can just discern the tiny thread of a trail that winds a way across that desert to the other side. we can easily follow the track and do it in one afternoon," said mr. gilroy. "you don't think we shall be running any risks, do you?" ventured mrs. vernon. "none whatever. if we were down at the base of this peak, right now, you would see how simple a thing it is to ride across the sand. the only danger in these colorado wastes is when a storm threatens. but the sky is as clear as can be, and the day is too far spent now, for the sun to start anything going." "the only hazard we take in crossing the sand waste, is that darkness may overtake us before we reach the other side, and that might cause us to stray from the trail," suggested mr. vernon. "with two good guides to lead us, we take no risk on that score," returned mr. gilroy. "at least it will prove to be a novel trip--climbing mountains and riding over a desert of sand all in the same day," said julie, eagerly willing to try the experience. luncheon was hastily disposed of, and tally led them all down the steep trail of the mountainside for several hours. then they reached the lodgepole pine, which is the only timber that can hold out against desert storms in bad weather and in winter. "before we begin this desert ride, do let's look for some water," begged ruth. "i'm thirsty as a sandpiper." "quite appropriate, too, as long as we are going to be closely affiliated with the sand," giggled joan. tally and the two men had gone on before, and had not heard ruth's request, or they might have spared the scouts a great deal of unpleasantness. they had hoped to strike the trail they had seen across the desert, so they rode in different directions to locate it, and the captain and girls were left to amble slowly along until one or all of the men returned for them. so it happened that ruth and joan wandered about in search of drinking-water, and shortly after they left the rest of the scouts, mrs. vernon heard ruth call. "come here! we've found a lovely little spring!" the girls quickly followed in the newly broken trail that was plainly seen, and reached the pool of water that was hidden by sagebushes and low lava-rock formation. "i was so thirsty i just flattened myself out on the sand and filled up," laughed ruth, sighing with repletion. every one, the captain included, drank freely of the warm water, and julie made a remark that it tasted brackish for such an active spring. "maybe that is due to the sand and sun," ventured joan. "while we are here, let's give the horses a good drink," suggested anne. "that's a good idea. then they will be fresh for the trip across the sand," added mrs. vernon, starting back to get her horse and lead him to the spring. but the horses refused to drink. they seemed thirsty enough, but every one of them backed away when the girls tried to make them bend their heads and drink. "why, isn't that funny? did you ever see them act like this before?" asked julie. just then tally's voice was heard calling for them, and the scouts jumped back into the saddles and rode forward. when they explained about the animals refusing the water, tally looked serious. "show me drink!" commanded he, hurrying his horse over to the spring where the girls had drank. one taste of the water and he made a wry face. "you say you tak him?" asked the guide anxiously. "yes, lots of it," replied ruth. "him mos' bad as dem bad land. dat alkali water." "what do you mean, tally?" anxiously asked several girls. "him mak mucha ache here," explained tally, placing his hands over his stomach and bending low with an agonized expression. but the damage was done and so the scouts had to make the best of the case. consequently, it was not long before ruth was tied into knots and hardly able to sit in the saddle. the others, according to the quantity they had taken, were griped also. this did not add anything to the pleasure of the ride across the hot dry sand. but as long as they had essayed to cross that day, they kept on going slowly, hoping that with each cramp the scouts would begin to recover from the effects of the water. tally and his friend had been so certain that they would reach the other side of the desert before dark, that no one felt the slightest apprehension on that score. but the slowness with which the scouts had to travel made it dubious whether the riders would gain the other side before night. here and there, scattered over the desert sand, were queer craggy formations of lava, as if some volcanic eruption had thrown the heaps of burnt-out lava broadcast, to rest for ages upon the sea of waste. there was a constant wind blowing across the desert, that carried the tiniest particles of sand with it, and these cut into faces and uncovered parts of the flesh of horses and riders. this stinging sand added no little to the misery of the suffering scouts. the men and two guides felt very sorry for their companions, yet they had to keep on riding because it was necessary that they reach safety and shelter for that night. thinking to divert their thoughts from their pain, mr. gilroy called attention to an unusually large crag of lava that stood up like a peak from the undulating sea of sand around it. "suppose you take a snapshot of that queer formation," suggested mr. vernon, eager to abet his friend's plan. "you take it, uncle--we have no need of pictures any more. this promises to be our last day on earth," moaned julie, her face drawn in pain. they were quite near to the crag when tally leaned forward in his saddle and held a hand to his ear in the attitude of one listening intently. then he jumped from the horse and placed his ear flat down on the sand. "what is it, tally?" asked mr. gilroy, anxiously. "him blowin' bad! can messer gilloy see much wind thoo glass?" questioned the guide, hastily, pointing off to the left. mr. gilroy adjusted the glasses and gazed in the direction tally pointed. even the suffering scouts watched his face with more anxiety than they had given to the cramps. "i fear we are in for a sandstorm, girls. we must make for that friendly crag and cower behind its out-thrusts until the worst is over," quickly advised mr. gilroy, as soon as he had satisfied himself that that was what the approaching cloud meant. the two indians urged their horses forward, and soon all were crouching down behind the meagre shelter offered by the ragged lava points. the horses were so placed that their bodies formed a screen for the riders, and the blankets and packs were arranged on the exposed sides of the animals to protect their skins from the stinging sand. the sound of the wind as the storm rushed towards them, was awesome, but when the full fury of the simoon came, the sand was drifted quickly all about the horses and refugees. the wind fairly shrieked, as it tried to tear away the blankets and start a stampede of the horses, but the indians were able to calm the poor animals' fear. the windstorm blew over as suddenly as it came, and the moment the going was safe, tally led the horses from their drifts of sand and saddled them again. the riders crawled out, also, and shook themselves free of the clinging sand, then got back in their saddles, ready to ride onward. the guides had not gone far, however, before they realized that the sandstorm had played greater havoc with the faint trail than with the riders. such was the menace they now had to face: night coming on apace, the scouts with cramps from alkali water, horses thirsty and sore from the beating of the simoon, and still an endless waste to cross, and no pathway to guide them. "oh, why did we ever come this way?" wailed mrs. vernon. "we mos' over him," soothed tally. "why, we've been riding for hours, and still there is nothing but sand to be seen," complained julie. "all same, us fin' end pooty soon," returned omney. they rode on without much conversation after that, as no one felt cheerful enough to talk. the sun had set beyond the rolling sea of sand, and yet no welcome sight of trees or dwellings could be seen before them. nothing but sand, sand, sand! after the sun had completely disappeared, a chill crept into the air and in ten minutes time every one was shivering with cold. tally spoke in undertones to mr. gilroy, and he in turn said to his companions, "let every one get the guide-rope out and tie it to the saddle in front of you." "why," called joan. "anything left in pandora's box for us poor creatures?" asked julie sorrowfully. "tally thinks one of us might stray, if the darkness overtakes us as suddenly as it falls on these deserts sometimes," said mr. gilroy. before every one was hitched securely to the horse in front, so that a long line of riders traveled in file, a soughing wind could be heard coming from the north. "now, what can that be? more trouble?" demanded mrs. vernon. "we hope not, but tally says that quite often, after a hot sandstorm, it returns with sleet and hail; so we'd better be ready in case this chill portends such a comeback," explained mr. gilroy. "what a fate! to drink poison, then fight a simoon, and at last to die in a desert blizzard!" cried julie frantically trying to sit upright and defy the fates. "such is rocky mountain weather," mr. gilroy laughed gaily, as if he must inspire his friends with his bravado. the oncoming blizzard had darkened the sky even before its time, but tally kept bravely on, encouraging the horses with _coos_ and indian words, until even the riders felt the spirit he manifested and felt braver to face what was impending. just before the sleet began to drive into their faces enough to blind them and shut out everything not two feet ahead, mr. gilroy shouted out cheerfully, "ha! i see a light twinkling out ahead! we've reached a house, anyway!" "where? where?" asked a chorus of voices. then most of them discerned the faint little beacon, and urged their weary horses to renewed effort, and the animals seemed to understand that their work was almost done for that day, and actually moved faster. but the blizzard struck before they could reach the refuge, coating everything with ice and cutting deep into tender hands and faces. the horses were soon stiff with the cold, and it took all of the riders' energy, even so close to a promising haven, to keep the beasts moving. finally tally shouted wildly, "light ahead! light here!" and at the same time his horse stumbled down a steep grade into a rushing little brook. omney saw the danger before his horse reached the bank, and warned all the others behind him. they crossed the water safely, and after scrambling up the steep bank on the other side, they found themselves in a barnyard. they made such a noise at this discovery, that a man hurried from one of the low, long buildings with a lantern. "oh, welcome sight!" sighed mrs. vernon, ready to faint with joy and relief. during a momentary lull in the wind and sleet, they all rode up to the long, low ranch house, and shouted to the owners to help them. soon every one was thawing before a roaring fire; and the poor horses were in the stable, enjoying food and rest. chapter fifteen back-trailing to denver the ill effects of the alkali water passed off in a few hours, and the scouts felt able to continue the ride in the morning. the sun was shining so brightly that no one would have dared say there had been a fearful storm the night before. as they all sat about the rough table for breakfast, the host explained to mr. gilroy how the guides missed the right trail on the mountains, and he sketched for them a rude map to help them find the point where the medicine bow mountains and frontal range met in the continental divide. when the horses were brought to the door, and all were ready to start on the ride again, mr. vernon insisted upon the good mountain rancher taking a gift for his hospitality, although the latter demurred for sometime before he was prevailed upon to take the recompense. that day tally led his party along the well-defined trail he had missed the day before, and by sundown they were nearing the wonderful altitude and mountaintops of the frontal range. at night they camped in one of the wildest spots of the mountains, where the extensive view was as imposing as any to be found in colorado. tally had, with true indian instinct, found a small lake of purest cold water, where they could pitch camp. a wild animal trail circuited this lake, and while the guides prepared the supper, the captain suggested a ride around the sheet of clear water. the scene was splendidly wild, and isolation hung like a curtain over everything down below in the valley, that was seen through the forest trees whenever the scouts climbed a prominence. mystic sounds chirruped at them as they rode slowly along the narrow path, lending enchantment to the beauty of the place. the fast-fading rays of purple and rose that sped in the wake of the setting sun, cast ever-changing gleams of color across the placid lake. as the twilight advanced, the silence of the forest was felt, and only now and then came a wildwood sound to startle the scouts. as they followed the trail that skirted the lake, they came to a rippling stream that had to be forded. just as julie, always in advance, guided her horse down the steep bank, a crackling of dry twigs on the other side caused the horse to stop suddenly. "o girls! look! look!" whispered julie, tensely. there stood a fawn as if cut from stone, with ears erect and nose sniffing at the strange creatures seen so near at hand. even as the scouts gazed admiringly, the graceful thing flaunted its short tail and, with the stamping of a hoof to protest against this interruption of her drink, disappeared, without a sound of its going. they crossed the stream and were keeping on the trail that ran along the shore, when from overhead, a loon shrilled a warning to its mate across the lake that there was a strange horde of life passing under her tree! but the male loon sent back his wild laughter at such unbased fears of his wife's. all these incidents impressed the scouts with a sense of their being one with the wild creatures, and they regretted the fact that they were nearing camp again. at the point where tally had made the night camp, the reeds and grasses hugged the shore of the lake, and now a faint mist upcurled from the water like a transparent veil. gradually this veil spread inland and quietly enveloped all things on shore. the bright fire dispelled the mist about the camp, and as the hungry scouts sniffed the odors of a good supper, the beauties of nature were temporarily forgotten. while the scouts were adventuring around the lake, mr. gilroy and mr. vernon had cut hemlock bows for bedding, so that all was ready for the night before supper was served. after enjoying tally's cooking to the utmost, the scouts sat down to listen to the various wild adventures of omney and talley. but one after another, they dozed before long, and mr. gilroy suggested they all retire for the night. talley knew not how long he had been sleeping when he was unaccountably aroused as if by a strange noise in camp. he sat up and listened, but all seemed quiet, so he soon was dozing again. the snapping of a twig, some distance away, however, made him open his eyes drowsily and wonder sleepily if the horses were securely hobbled. he was too tired to keep awake long enough to get up and go in search of the animals. the thought of it, however, before he fell sound asleep caused him to dream fitfully all night. he awoke very early and got up to reassure himself that all was well in camp. he could see no sign of any horse or mule, so he shook omney, and the two ran in search of the strayed animals. when the rest of the touring party woke up to find the sun shining into their eyes, no sign of guides or horses was seen. mr. gilroy began to prepare breakfast, and mr. vernon was sent to fish. the girls were each detailed on some work, and by the time the meal was ready, sounds of hoofs were heard along the trail. "dat jolt, he makka all horse go way down trail. omney an' me fin' dem miles down," explained tally, with a vindictive look at the mule. as if he fully understood the indian, jolt sent back an answering gleam from his wicked eyes and kicked up his hind legs in derision. mr. vernon had caught more than enough fish in the overstocked lake, and when the fried mush, bacon, and fresh fish, bread, and fragrant coffee were served, the appetites displayed were such as would drive a new york boarding-house keeper distracted. that day the scouts rode in forests where stately aromatic pines sheltered countless wild creatures, that peered from their cloistered haunts with wonderment at the strangers. birds of every description sang from low-swinging branches, and lesser notes from unseen insects in the bushes and grass added music to this orchestra that rendered the grandest symphony ever heard. that evening while seated about the camp supper, julie said, "there's one animal i've wanted to see in his natural haunts in the rockies, and not one have we been able to glimpse." "what's that?" asked mr. gilroy. "the famous american buffalo of the plains," returned she. "ah, it is the captain's fault that you girls were not able to see the bison at home," retorted mr. gilroy. "had she consented to your going with me to yellowstone park, you could have watched the animals grazing and wandering over their own fields." "well, the buffalo will still be there next year, but the scouts cannot lose a month of school this fall just to go and watch the animals in wyoming," said mrs. vernon. "of course, your word is law to us all, but it does seem a pity, as i said before, that being so near the geysers, we should not take advantage of it," remarked mr. gilroy. the scouts expressed in their faces that they thought on this matter exactly as mr. gilroy did, but the captain said, "if you continue to preach your mutinous ideas to my girls, i'll leave you out of my plans next summer when we take a trip." "wough! that threat will keep me quiet for all time!" laughed mr. gilroy, clapping a hand over his mouth to show his instant obedience. every one laughed, but tally now joined the circle and asked for orders for the next day's ride. after talking over various trails and plans, they got up and prepared to retire for the night. "did any one hang up the saddles to-night?" asked mr. vernon, before he turned in to sleep. "tally, did you look after the leather?" asked mr. gilroy. tally turned to omney, "did him fix harness?" "me do it, all light," returned omney, then he shuffled out of the circle of light cast by the fire and they heard him fumbling with heavy saddles and other trappings. the glorious break of day in the mountains awoke every one, and soon the breakfast was under way. while the guides cooked, mr. vernon went for the horses. mr. gilroy decided to save time by taking down the harness from the trees where it was usually hung. "great scout!" called he, summoning the indians to the spot. "what's the matter?" asked the scouts, anxiously running after the two guides. "a rascally porcupine has been at our leather last night!" declared mr. gilroy, angrily showing the ravages made on the harnesses. tally glared at omney, "why for you do dat? don' you know dem bad rats eat all up?" omney said nothing, but looked very penitent. mr. gilroy sighed as he began an inventory of the damage. "two sets of reins chawed to pieces; a throat latchet gone; three saddles with holes eaten through them, and two bridles cut to bits, all because of a little carelessness!" "i fixa dem allight!" exclaimed omney, eagerly. "but that means a morning lost while you make repairs," replied mrs. vernon. then omney stiffened his spine and lifted his head in a majestic fury at the porcupines. he glowered down the trail and shook his clenched fist vengefully at the imaginary depredator, saying in hissing voice, "him one bad darn beas'!" every one laughed at his suppressed fury, and the tame exclamation he had just used, but the poor guide felt better again. the harnesses were finally mended with rope and bits of wire from tally's outfit kit, and by noon everything was in readiness for continuing the trip. toward the end of august, the tourists reached estes park again, and upon riding to long's peak village, they replaced the mended harness with good sections, and then rode on to loveland, where they proposed leaving the horses they had leased for the summer. while mr. gilroy and tally led the horses back to their owner, the captain took the girls to the department store and soon they were busy trying on readymade dresses that they might start for denver. mrs. vernon had strenuously vetoed their appearing in civilization again in the patched and faded scout uniforms that had stood such rough usage while camping in the mountains. but the uniforms were carefully packed to take back home as souvenirs of that eventful summer. when shop-made shoes were tried on the feet that had been free all summer from city footgear, and the scouts tried to walk on the stone pavements of loveland, they winced with the pain of their toes in cramped quarters. "goodness, girls! isn't it awful to have had such freedom all summer and then return to prison cells again for feet and body?" cried julie, frowning. "yes, and it will be the same when we go to bed to-night, no more forest vastness for a chamber, no more pine for a roof, and no more singing of wild notes to lull us to sleep!" sighed joan. that evening mr. gilroy condoled with the scouts over the immediate future--school, orthodox clothing, and bandbox rooms to live in all winter. "but there is always the hope of heaven before you," said mr. vernon, smiling at the circle of faces. "what do you mean?" asked julie. "there is next summer again, you know, and if gilroy is as good as his word, he will see that you are escorted to arizona and new mexico for a trip!" "remind me of it next spring, girls, and we'll see," laughed mr. gilroy, winking an eye at the captain. so with this ray of hope for a future outing, the girls were encouraged to start back east, and take up the irksome tasks of acquiring a necessary education in the humdrum daily lessons of school. for children 5 to 9 years of age four little blossoms series by mabel c. hawley 12mo, cloth, large type, 160 pages, four colored illustrations four little blossoms at brookside farm mother called them her four little blossoms but daddy blossom called them bobby, meg and the twins. the twins, twaddles and dot, were a comical pair and always getting into mischief. the children had heaps of fun around the big farm, and had several real adventures in the bargain. four little blossoms at oak hill school in the fall bobby and meg had to go to school. it was good fun for miss mason was a kind teacher. then the twins insisted on going to school too, and their appearance quite upset the class. and in school something very odd happened and all the boys and girls wondered what it meant. four little blossoms and their winter fun winter came and with it lots of ice and snow, and oh! what fun the blossoms had skating and sledding. and once bobby and meg went on an errand and got lost in a sudden snowstorm. and once twaddles slipped through a hole in the ice, but the others went quickly to the rescue. george sully & company, publishers, new york the "do something" series by helen beecher long 12mo, cloth, illustrated, and colored jacket a series of books for girls which have been uniformly successful. janice day, the "do something" girl, is a character that will live long in juvenile fiction. every volume is full of inspiration. there are an abundance of humor, quaint situations, and worthwhile effort, and likewise plenty of plot and mystery. an ideal series for girls from nine to sixteen. janice day, the young homemaker. janice day at poketown. the testing of janice day. how janice day won. the mission of janice day. george sully & company, publishers, new york the nan sherwood series by annie roe carr 12mo, cloth, illustrated, and colored jacket in annie roe carr we have found a young woman of wide experience among girls--in school-room, in camp and while traveling. she knows girls of to-day thoroughly--their likes and dislikes--and knows that they demand almost as much action as do the boys. and she knows humor--good, clean fun and plenty of it. nan sherwood at pine camp, or the old lumberman's secret. nan sherwood at lake view hall, or the mystery of the haunted boathouse. nan sherwood's winter holidays, or rescuing the runaways. nan sherwood at rose ranch, or the old mexican's treasure. nan sherwood at palm beach, or strange adventures among the orange groves. george sully & company, publishers, new york "these books should interest every girl who loves the open."--chicago evening post. the lucile series by elizabeth m. duffield 12mo, cloth, illustrated, and colored jacket lucile, the torch bearer. lucile triumphant. lucile, bringer of joy. lucile on the heights. "out of door" stories for girls, of vital interest and compelling charm. the wholesome spirit and beautiful aims of the "campfire girls" have never been more attractively described, and the fun and merriment of the outings will prove fascinating to every live girl. the heroine, lucile, is a most spirited and striking character and one will not wonder at the almost adoring affection in which she is held by her companions. george sully & company, publishers, new york about this book: original publication data: publisher: george sully & company, new york copyright: 1921, by george sully & company series: part of the _girl scouts mountain series_ note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see 20710-h.htm or 20710-h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/2/0/7/1/20710/20710-h/20710-h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/2/0/7/1/20710/20710-h.zip) pluck on the long trail or boy scouts in the rockies by edwin l. sabin ----------------------------------------------------------------------the boy scout series boy scouts in the maine woods by james otis. illustrated by charles copeland. along the mohawk trail; or, boy scouts on lake champlain by percy k. fitzhugh. illustrated by remington schuyler. pluck on the long trail; or, boy scouts in the rockies by edwin l. sabin. illustrated by clarence rowe. each, 12mo, cloth, $1.25 postpaid. a series of wholesome, realistic, entertaining stories for boys by writers who have a thorough knowledge of boy scouts and of real scouting in the sections of the country in which the scenes of their books are laid. thomas y. crowell company new york ----------------------------------------------------------------------[illustration: see page 123. "'you git!' he ordered."] pluck on the long trail or boy scouts in the rockies by edwin l. sabin author of "bar b boys," "range and trail," "circle k," etc. illustrated by clarence h. rowe it's honor flag and country dear, and hold them in the van; it's keep your lungs and conscience clean, your body spick and span; it's "shoulders squared" and "be prepared," and always "play the man"; shouting the boy scouts forev-er! new york thomas y. crowell company publishers copyright, 1912, by thomas y. crowell company to scouts scouts in america have a high honor to maintain, for the american scout has always been the best in the world. he is noted as being keen, quick, cautious, and brave. he teaches himself, and he is willing to be taught by others. he is known and respected. even in the recent war in south africa between great britain and the boers, it was major frederick russell burnham, an american, once a boy in iowa, who was the english chief of scouts. major burnham is said to be the greatest modern scout. the information in this book is based upon thoroughly american scoutcraft as practiced by indians, trappers, and soldiers of the old-time west, and by mountaineers, plainsmen, and woodsmen of to-day. as the true-hearted scout should readily acknowledge favor and help, so i will say that for the diagram of the squaw hitch and of the diamond hitch i am indebted to an article by mr. stewart edward white in _outing_ of 1907, and one by mr. i. j. bush in _recreation_ of 1911; for the "medicine song" and several of the star legends, to that blackfeet epic, "the old north trail," by walter mcclintock; for medical and surgical hints, to dr. charles moody's "backwoods surgery and medicine" and to the american red cross "first aid" text-book; for some of the lore, to personal experiences; and for much of it, to various old army, hunting, and explorer scout-books, long out of print, written when good scouting meant not only daily food, travel, and shelter, but daily life itself. e. l. s. book kit chapter page i. the long trail 1 ii. the night attack 11 iii. the big trout 21 iv. the beaver man 31 v. two recruits 39 vi. a disastrous doze 54 vii. held by the enemy 69 viii. a new use for a camera 85 ix. jim bridger on the trail 98 x. the red fox patrol 111 xi. the man at the dug-out 121 xii. foiling the fire 133 xiii. orders from the president 146 xiv. the capture of the beaver man 161 xv. general ashley drops out 179 xvi. a burro in bed 185 xvii. van sant's last cartridge 199 xviii. fitz the bad hand's good throw 215 xix. major henry says "ouch" 230 xx. a forty-mile ride 244 xxi. the last dash 258 scout notes 1. on old-time scouts 277 2. on taking a message to garcia 278 3. on socks and feet 279 4. on the tarpaulin bed-sheet 279 5. on the diamond hitch 279 6. on the indian bow and arrow 282 7. on the lariat or rope 282 8. on neatness and the war-bag 283 9. on tea 283 10. on the medicine kit 283 11. on the straight-foot walk 284 12. on sign language 284 13. on sign for bird flying 286 14. on making the tarp bed 286 15. on the reflector oven--and a shovel 287 16. on a whistle code 287 17. on brushing teeth and hair 287 18. on snagging fish 287 19. on drying boots 288 20. on records and maps 288 21. on right or left footedness 288 22. on weather warnings 289 23. on watching teeth 290 24. on lightning 290 25. on bedding place 290 26. on cooking 290 27. on the tarp shelter tent 291 28. on guns 291 29. on treating pack-animals 292 30. on the scout camp place 292 31. on camp-law protection 292 32. on division of guard duty 292 33. on trailing 292 34. on marking the trail 293 35. on respecting the enemy 293 36. on the parole 293 37. on the sign for escape 294 38. on tying a prisoner 294 40. on making a fire 296 41. on the clock of the heavens 296 42. on stars 298 43. on sunday 300 44. on smoke signals 300 45. on surgical supplies 301 46. on antiseptics 302 47. on climbing trees 303 48. on wigwags and other motion signaling 303 49. on sprains 308 50. on caches 309 51. on use of medicines 310 52. on forest fires 311 53. on fire fighting 312 54. on deep wounds 313 55. on the squaw hitch 314 56. on picketing and hobbling 315 57. on respecting nature 316 58. on dislocations 316 59. on litters for wounded 317 60. on jerked meat 318 61. on dressing pelts 319 62. on aluminum 320 63. on "levez!" 320 64. on appendicitis 320 65. on the nose of horse and mule 321 66. on being a scout 321 [transcriber's note: note 39 was not referenced in this table.] picture signs "'you git!' he ordered" frontispiece opposite page "bill duane went through him" 78 "it was our private elk patrol code" 178 "like cave-men or trappers we descended" 214 the roll call the elk patrol of colorado: first-class scout roger franklin, or general william ashley. first-class scout tom scott, or major andrew henry. first-class scout harry leonard, or kit carson. first-class scout chris anderson, or thomas fitzpatrick the bad hand. second-class scout "little" dick smith, or jedediah smith. second-class scout charley brown, or jim bridger. the red fox patrol of new jersey: first-class scout horace ward. first-class scout edward van sant. friends and enemies: sally and apache, the elk totem burros. bill duane and his town gang, who make the trail worse. bat and walt, the renegade recruits. the beaver man. the game warden, the forest ranger, the cow-puncher, the two ranch women, the doctor; pilot peak, creeks, valleys, hills, timber, and sage and meadows; rain and fire and flood; the big trout, the mother bear, the tame ptarmigans, etc. the long trail afoot, one hundred miles through a wild country and over the medicine range. described by jim bridger, with a few chapters by major henry. pluck on the long trail chapter i the long trail we are the elk patrol, 14th colorado troop, boy scouts of america. our sign is [illustration] and our colors are dark green and white, like the pines and the snowy range. our patrol call is the whistle of an elk, which is an "oooooooooooo!" high up in the head, like a locomotive whistle. we took the elk brand (that is the same as totem, you know, only we say "brand," in the west), because elks are the great trail-makers in the mountains. about the hardest thing that we have set out to do yet has been to carry a secret message across the mountains, one hundred miles, from our town to another town, with our own pack outfit, and finding our own trail, and do it in fifteen days including sundays. that is what i want to tell about, in this book. there were six of us who went; and just for fun we called ourselves by trapper or scout names. we were: first-class scout roger franklin, or general william ashley. he is our patrol leader. he is fifteen years old, and red-headed, and his mother is a widow and keeps a boarding-house. first-class scout tom scott, or major andrew henry. he is our corporal. he is sixteen years old, and has snapping black eyes, and his father is mayor. first-class scout harry leonard, or kit carson. he is thirteen years old, and before he came into the scouts we called him "sliver" because he's so skinny. his father is a groceryman. first-class scout chris anderson, or thomas fitzpatrick the bad hand. he is fifteen years old, and tow-headed and all freckled, and has only half a left arm. he got hurt working in the mine. but he's as smart as any of us. he can use a camera and throw a rope and dress himself, and tie his shoe-laces and other knots. he's our best trailer. his father is a miner. second-class scout richard smith, or jedediah smith. he is only twelve, and is a "fatty," and his father is postmaster. second-class scout charley brown, or jim bridger the blanket chief. that's myself. i'm fourteen, and have brown eyes and big ears, and my father is a lawyer. when we started i had just been promoted from a tenderfoot, so i didn't know very much yet. but we're all first-class scouts now, and have honors besides. for scout work we were paired off like this: ashley and carson; henry and smith; fitzpatrick and bridger. (see note 1, in back of book.) our trip would have been easier (but it was all right, anyway), if a notice hadn't got into the newspaper and put other boys up to trying to stop us. this is what the notice said: the elk patrol of the local boy scouts is about to take a message from mayor scott across the range to the mayor of green valley. this message will be sealed and in cipher, and the boys will be granted fifteen days in which to perform the trip over, about 100 miles, afoot; so they will have to hustle. they must not make use of any vehicles or animals except their pack-animals, or stop at ranches except through injury or illness, but must pursue their own trail and live off the country. the boys who will go are roger franklin, tom scott, dick smith, harry leonard, chris anderson, and charley brown. of course, this notice gave the whole scheme away, and some of the other town boys who pretended to make fun of us scouts because we were trying to learn scoutcraft and to use it right planned to cut us off and take the message away from us. there always are boys mean enough to bother and interfere, until they get to be scouts themselves. then they are ashamed. we knew that we were liable to be interfered with, because we heard some talk, and bill duane (he's one of the town fellows; he doesn't do much of anything except loaf) said to me: "oh, you'll never get through, kid. the bears will eat you up. bears are awful bad in that country." but this didn't scare _us_. bears aren't much, if you let them alone. we knew what he meant, though. and we got an anonymous letter. it came to general ashley, and showed a skull and cross-bones, and said: beware!!! no boy scouts allowed on the medicine range! keep off!!! that didn't scare us, either. when we were ready to start, mayor scott called us into his office and told us that this was to be a real test of how we could be of service in time of need and of how we could take care of ourselves; and that we were carrying a message to garcia, and must get it through, if we could, but that he put us on our honor as scouts to do just as we had agreed to do. (see note 2.) then we saluted him, and he saluted us with a military salute, and we gave our scouts' yell, and went. our scouts' yell is: b. s. a.! b. s. a.! elk! elk! hoo-ray!! and a screech all together, like the bugling of an elk. this is how we marched. the message was done up flat, between cardboard covered by oiled silk with the elk totem on it, and was slung by a buckskin thong from the general's neck, under his shirt, out of sight. we didn't wear coats, because coats were too hot, and you can't climb with your arms held by coat-sleeves. we had our coats in the packs, for emergencies. we wore blue flannel shirts with the scouts' emblem on the sleeves, and scouts' drab service hats, and khaki trousers tucked into mountain-boots hob-nailed with our private pattern so that we could tell each other's tracks, and about our necks were red bandanna handkerchiefs knotted loose, and on our hands were gauntlet gloves. little jed smith, who is a fatty, wore two pairs of socks, to prevent his feet from blistering. that is a good scheme. (note 3.) general ashley and major henry led; next were our two burros, sally (who was a yellow burro with a white spot on her back) and apache (who was a black burro and was named for kit carson's--the real kit carson's--favorite horse). behind the burros we came: the two other first-class scouts, and then the second-class scouts, who were jed smith and myself. we took along two flags: one was the stars and stripes and the other was our patrol flag--green with a white elk totem on it. they were fastened to a jointed staff, the stars and stripes on top and the patrol flag below; and the butt of the staff was sharpened, to stick into the ground. the flags flew in camp. we did not have tents. we had three tarps, which are tarpaulins or cowboy canvas bed-sheets, to sleep in, on the ground, and some blankets and quilts for over and under, too. (note 4.) and these and our cooking things and a change of underclothes and stockings, etc., were packed on the burros with panniers and top-packs lashed tight with the diamond hitch. (note 5.) we decided to pack along one twenty-two caliber rifle, for rabbits when we needed meat. one gun is enough in a camp of kids. this gun was under the general's orders (he was our leader, you know), so that there wouldn't be any promiscuous shooting around in the timber, and somebody getting hit. it was for business, not monkey-work. we took one of our bows, the short and thick indian kind, and some of our two-feathered arrows, in case that we must get meat without making any noise. (note 6.) and we had two lariat ropes. (note 7.) each pair of scouts was allotted a war-bag, to hold their personal duds, and each fellow put in a little canvas kit containing tooth-brush and powder, comb and brush, needles and thread, etc. (note 8.) for provisions we had flour, salt, sugar, bacon, dried apples, dried potatoes, rice, coffee (a little), tea, chocolate, baking-powder, condensed milk, canned butter, and half a dozen cans of beans, for short order. (note 9.) canned stuff is heavy, though, and mean to pack. we didn't fool with raw beans, in bulk. they use much space, and at 10,000 and 12,000 feet they take too long to soak and cook. we depended on catching trout, and on getting rabbits or squirrels to tide us over; and we were allowed to stock up at ranches, if we should pass any. that was legitimate. even the old trappers traded for meat from the indians. we had our first-aid outfits--one for each pair of us. i carried chris's and mine. we were supplied with camp remedies, too. (note 10.) doctor wallace of our town, who was our patrol surgeon, had picked them out for us. general ashley and major henry set the pace. the trail out of town was good, and walking fast and straight-footed (note 11) we trailed by the old stage road four miles, until we came to grizzly gulch. here we turned off, by a prospectors' trail, up grizzly. the old stage road didn't go to green valley. away off to the northwest, now, was the medicine range that we must cross, to get at green valley on the other side. it is a high, rough range, 13,000 and 14,000 feet, and has snow on it all the year. in the middle was pilot peak, where we expected to strike a pass. the prospect trail was fair, and we hustled. we didn't stop to eat much, at noon; that would have taken our wind. the going was up grade and you can't climb fast on a full stomach. we had a long march ahead of us, for old pilot peak looked far and blue. now and then the general let us stop, to puff for a moment; and the packs had to be tightened after sally's and apache's stomachs had gone down with exercise. we followed the trail single file, and about two o'clock, by the sun, we reached the head of the gulch and came out on top of the mesa there. we were hot and kind of tired (especially little jed smith, our "fatty"); but we were not softies and this was no place to halt long. we must cross and get under cover again. if anybody was spying on us we could be seen too easy, up here. when you're pursuing, you keep to the high ground, so as to see; but when you're pursued you keep to the low ground, so as not to be seen. that was the trappers' way. i'll tell you what we did. there are two ways to throw pursuers off the scent. we might have done as the indians used to do. they would separate, after a raid, and would spread out in a big fan-shape, every one making a trail of his own, so that the soldiers would not know which to follow; and after a long while they would come together again at some point which they had agreed on. but we weren't ready to do this. it took time, and we did not have any meeting-spot, exactly. so we left as big a trail as we could, to make any town gang think that we were not suspicious. that would throw them off their guard. single file we traveled across the mesa, and at the other side we dipped into a little draw. here we found ute creek, which we had planned to follow up to its headwaters in the medicine range. a creek makes a good guide. a cow-trail ran beside it. "first-class scout fitzpatrick (that was chris) and second-class scout bridger (that was i) drop out and watch the trail," commanded general ashley (that was patrol leader roger franklin). "report at bob cat springs. we'll camp there for the night." chris and i knew what to do. we gave a big leap aside, to a flat rock, and the other scouts continued right along; and because they were single file the trail didn't show any difference. i don't suppose that the town gang would have noticed, anyway; but you must never despise the enemy. from the flat rock fitzpatrick and i stepped lightly, so as not to leave much mark, on some dried grass, and made off up the side of the draw, among the bushes. these grew as high as our shoulders, and formed a fine ambuscade. we climbed far enough so that we could see both sides of the draw and the trail in between; and by crawling we picked a good spot and sat down. we knew that we must keep still, and not talk. we kept so still that field-mice played over our feet, and a bee lit on fitzpatrick. he didn't brush it off. we could talk sign language; that makes no sound. of course, fitz could talk with only one hand. he made the signs to watch down the trail, and to listen; and i replied with men on horseback and be vigilant as a wolf. (note 12.) it wasn't bad, sitting here in the sunshine, amidst the brush. the draw was very peaceful and smelled of sage. a magpie flew over, his black and white tail sticking out behind him; and he saw us and yelled. magpies are awful sharp, that way. they're a good sign to watch. everything tells something to a scout, when he's an expert. sitting there, warm and comfortable, a fellow felt like going to sleep; but fitzpatrick was all eyes and ears, and i tried to be the same, as a scout should. chapter ii the night attack we must have been squatting for an hour and a half, and the sun was down close to the top of the draw, behind us, when fitzpatrick nudged me with his foot, and nodded. he made the sign of birds flying up and pointed down the trail, below, us; so that i knew somebody was coming, around a turn there. (note 13.) we scarcely breathed. we just sat and watched, like two mountain lions waiting. pretty soon they came riding along--four of them on horseback; we knew the horses. the fellows were bill duane, mike delavan, tony matthews, and bert hawley. they were laughing and talking because the trail we made was plain and they thought that we all were pushing right on, and if they could read sign they would know that the tracks were not extra fresh. we let them get out of sight; then we went straight down upon the trail, and followed, alongside, so as not to step on top of their tracks and show that we had come after. we talked only by sign, and trailed slow, because they might be listening or looking back. we wanted to find where they stopped. at every turn we sneaked and fitzpatrick stuck just his head around, to see that the trail was clear. suddenly he made sign to me that he saw them; there were three on horseback, waiting, and one had gone on, walking, to reconnoiter. so we had to back-trail until we could make a big circle and strike the trail on ahead. this wasn't open country here; there were cedars and pinyons and big rocks. we circuited up and around, out of sight from the trail, and came in, bending low and walking carefully so as not to crack sticks, to listen and examine for sign. we found strange tracks--soles without hob-nails, pointing one way but not coming back. we hid behind a cedar, and waited. in about fifteen minutes bill duane walked right past us, back to the other fellows. now we hurried on, for it was getting dark; and soon we smelled smoke, and that meant camp. fitzpatrick (who was a first-class scout, while i was only a second) reported to general ashley the whereabouts of the enemy. "very well," said general ashley. "corporal andrew henry (that was tom scott) and second-class scout jed smith (that was dick smith) will go back a quarter of a mile and picket the trail until relieved; the rest of us will proceed with camp duties." major henry and little jed smith set off. we finished establishing camp. two holes were dug for camp refuse; that was my business. places for the beds were cleared of sticks and things; that was kit carson's business. general ashley chopped a cedar stump for wood (cedar burns without soot, you know); and fitzpatrick cooked. the burros had been unpacked and the flags planted before fitzpatrick and i came in. we had to picket the burros out, to graze, at first, or they might have gone back to town. of course, as we were short-handed, we had to do henry's and smith's work, to-night, too: spread the beds before dark and bring water and such things. (note 14.) for supper we had bacon and two cans of the beans and biscuits baked in a reflector, and coffee. (note 15.) major henry and jed smith were not getting any supper yet, because they were still on picket duty. but when we were through general ashley said, "kit carson, you and jim bridger relieve henry and smith, and tell them to come in to supper." but just as we stood, to start, major henry walked in amongst us. he was excited, and puffing, and he almost forgot to salute general ashley, who was patrol leader. "they're planning to come!" he puffed. "i sneaked close to them and heard 'em talking!" "is this meant for a report?" asked general ashley. and we others snickered. it wasn't the right way to make a report. "yes, sir," answered henry. "that is, i reconnoitered the enemy's camp, sir, and they're talking about us." "what did you hear?" "they're going to rush us when we're asleep, and scare us." "very well," said general ashley. "but you weren't ordered to do that. you left your post, sir." "i thought you'd like to know. they didn't hear me," stammered major henry. "you'd no business to go, just the same. orders are orders. where is smith?" "watching on picket." "did he go, too?" "no, sir." "you exceeded orders, and you ought to be court-martialed," said general ashley. and he was right, too. "but i'll give you another chance. when is the enemy going to attack?" "after we're asleep." "what is he doing now?" "eating and smoking and waiting, down the trail." "you can have some coffee and beans and bread, while we hold council. carson and bridger can wait a minute." the council didn't take long. general ashley's plan was splendid, a joke and a counter-attack in one. major henry ate as much as he could, but he wasn't filled up when he was sent out again, into the dark, with kit carson. they were ordered to tell jed smith to come in, but they were to go on. you'll see what happened. this double duty was henry's punishment. we cleaned up the camp, and then jed smith arrived. while he was eating we made the beds. we drew up the tarpaulins, over blankets and quilts rolled so that the beds looked exactly as if we were in them, our feet to the fire (it was a little fire, of course) and our heads in shadow. we tied the burros short; and then we went back into the cedars and pinyons and sat down, quiet. it wasn't pitchy dark. when the sky is clear it never gets pitchy dark, in the open; and there was a quarter-moon shining, too. the night was very still. the breeze just rustled the trees, but we could hear our hearts beat. once, about a mile away, a coyote barked like a crazy puppy. he was calling for company. the stars twinkled down through the stiff branches, and i tried to see the great dipper, but that took too much squirming around. we must not say a word, nor even whisper. we must just keep quiet, and listen and wait. down the trail poor major henry and kit carson were having a harder time of it--but i would have liked to be along. all of a sudden fitzpatrick the bad hand nudged me gently with his knuckles, and i nudged jed smith, and jed passed it on, and it went around from one to the other, so we all knew. somebody was coming! we could hear a stick snap, and a little laugh, off in the timber; it sounded as though somebody had run into a branch. we waited. the enemy was stealing upon our camp. we hid our faces in our coats and our hands in our sleeves, so that no white should show. it was exciting, sitting this way, waiting for the attack. the gang tiptoed up, carefully, and we could just make out two of them peering in at the beds. then they all gave a tremendous yell, like indians or mountain lions, and rushed us--or what they thought was us. they stepped on the beds and kicked at the tinware, and expected to scare us stiff with the noise--but you ought to have seen how quick they quit when nothing happened! we didn't pop out of the beds, and run! it was funny--and i almost burst, trying not to laugh out loud, when they stood, looking about, and feeling of the beds again. "they aren't here," said bill duane. at a nudge from general ashley we had deployed, running low and swift, right and left. "poke the fire, so we can see," said bert hawley. one of them did, so the fire blazed up--which was just what we wanted. now they were inside and we were outside. they began to talk. "we'll pile up the camp, anyway." "they're around somewhere." "let's take their burros." "take their flags." then general ashley spoke up. "no, you don't!" he said. "you let those things alone." that voice, coming out of the darkness around, must have made them jump, and for a minute they didn't know what to do. then-"why?" asked bill duane, kind of defiantly. "wait a moment and we'll show you," answered general ashley. he whistled loud, our scouts' signal whistle; and off down the trail major henry or kit carson whistled back, and added the whistle that meant "all right." (note 16.) "hear that?" asked general ashley. "that means we've got your horses!" hurrah! so we had. you see, major henry and kit carson had been sent back to watch the enemy's camp; and when the gang had left, on foot, to surprise us, our two scouts had gone in and captured the horses. we couldn't help but whoop and yell a little, in triumph. but general ashley ordered "silence!" and we quit. "aw, we were just fooling," said tony matthews. they talked together, low, for a few moments; and bill called: "come on in. we won't hurt you." "of course you won't," said general ashley. "but _we_ aren't fooling. we mean business. we'll keep the horses until you've promised to clear out and let this camp alone." "we don't want the horses. two of 'em are hired and the longer you keep them the more you'll have to pay." that was a lie. they didn't hire horses. they borrowed. "we can sleep here very comfortably, kid," said mike delavan. "you'll not get much sleep in those beds," retorted general ashley. "will they, boys!" and we all laughed and said "no!" "and after they've walked ten miles back to town, we'll bring in the horses and tell how we took them." the enemy talked together low, again. "all right," said bill duane. "you give us our horses and we'll let the camp alone." "do you promise?" asked general ashley. "yes; didn't i say so?" "do you, mike?" "sure; if you return those horses." "do you, tony and bert?" "uh huh." that was the best way--to make each promise separately; for some one of them might have claimed that he hadn't promised with the rest. "then go on down the trail, and you'll find the horses where you left them." "how do we know?" "on the honor of a scout," said general ashley. "we won't try any tricks, and don't you, for we'll be watching you until you start for town." they grumbled back, and with bill duane in the lead stumbled for the trail. general ashley whistled the signal agreed upon, for major henry and kit carson to tie the horses and to withdraw. we might have followed the enemy; but we would have risked dividing our forces too much and leaving the camp. we were safer here. so we waited, quiet; and after a time somebody signaled with the whistle of the patrol. it was kit carson. "they've gone, sir," he reported, when general ashley called him. "what did they say?" "they're mad; but they're going into town and they'll get back at us later." "you saw them start, did you?" "yes, sir." "where's henry?" "waiting to see if they turn or anything." "they won't. they know we'll be ready for them. shall we move camp, or post sentries, boys?" we voted to post sentries. it seemed an awful job to move camp, at this time of night, and make beds over again, and all that. it was only ten o'clock by general ashley's watch, but it felt later. so we built up the fire, and set some coffee on, and called major henry in, and general ashley and jed smith took the first spell of two hours; then they were to wake up fitzpatrick and me, for the next two hours; and major henry and kit carson would watch from two till four, when it would be growing light. but we didn't have any more trouble that night. chapter iii the big trout it was mighty hard work, turning out at five o'clock in the morning. that was regulations, while on the march--to get up at five. the ones who didn't turn out promptly had to do the dirty work--police the camp, which is to clean it, you know. fitzpatrick the bad hand cooked; i helped, by opening packages, preparing potatoes (if we had them), tending fire, etc.; major henry chopped wood; kit carson and little jed smith looked after the burros, apache and sally, and scouted in a circle for hostile sign; general ashley put the bedding in shape to pack. but first it was regulations to take a cold wet rub when we were near water. it made us glow and kept us in good shape. then we brushed our teeth and combed our hair. (note 17.) after breakfast we policed the camp, and dumped everything into a hole, or burned it, so that we left the place just about as we had found it. we stamped out the fire, or put dirt and water on it, of course. then we packed the burros. general ashley, jed smith, and kit carson packed sally; major henry, thomas fitzpatrick, and i packed apache. and by six-thirty we were on our way. this morning we kept on up ute creek. it had its rise in gray bull basin, at the foot of old pilot peak, about forty miles away. we thought we could make gray bull basin in three days. ten or twelve miles a day, with burros, on the trail, up-hill all the way, is about as fast as scouts like us can keep going. beyond gray bull we would have to find our own trail over pilot peak. everything was fine, this morning. birds were hopping among the cedars and spruces, and in some places the ground was red with wild strawberries. pine squirrels scolded at us, and we saw two rabbits; but we didn't stop to shoot them. we had bacon, and could catch trout higher up the creek. here were some beaver dams, and around the first dam lived a big trout that nobody had been able to land. the beaver dams were famous camping places for parties who could go this far, and everybody claimed to have hooked the big trout and to have lost him again. he was a native rocky mountain trout, and weighed four pounds--but he was educated. he wouldn't be caught. he had only one eye; that was how people knew him. we didn't count upon that big trout, but we rather counted upon some smaller ones; and anyway we must hustle on and put those ten miles behind us before the enemy got in touch with us again. our business was to carry that message through, and not to stop and hunt or lose time over uncalled-for things. the creek foamed and rushed; its water was amber, as if stained by pine needles. sometimes it ran among big bowlders, and sometimes it was crossed by fallen trees. thomas fitzpatrick picked up a beaver cutting. that was an aspen stick (beavers like aspen and willow bark best) about as large as your wrist and two feet long. it was green and the ends were fresh, so there were beavers above us. and it wasn't water-soaked, so that it could not have been cut and in the water very long. we were getting close. we traveled right along, and the country grew rougher. there were many high bowlders, and we came to a canyon where the creek had cut between great walls like a crack. there was no use in trying to go through this canyon; the trail had faded out, and we were about to oblique off up the hill on our side of the creek, to go around and strike the creek above the canyon, when kit carson saw something caught on a brush-heap half in the water, at the mouth of the canyon. it was a chain. he leaned out and took hold of the chain, and drew it in to shore. on the other end was a trap, and in the trap was a beaver. the chain was not tied to the brush; it had just caught there, so it must have been washed down. then up above somebody was trapping beaver, which was against the law. the beaver was in pretty bad condition. he must have been drowned for a week or more. the trap had no brand on it. usually traps are branded on the pan, but this wasn't and that went to show that whoever was trapping knew better. the sight of that beaver, killed uselessly, made us sick and mad both. but we couldn't do anything about it, except to dig a hole and bury trap and all, so that the creek would wash clean, as it ought to be. then we climbed up the steep hill, over rocks and flowers, and on top followed a ridge, until ahead we saw the creek again. it was in a little meadow here, and down we went for it. this was a beautiful spot. on one side the pines and spruces covered a long slope which rose on and on until above timber line it was bare and reddish gray; and away up were patches of snow; and beyond was the tip of pilot peak. but on our side a forest fire had burned out the timber, leaving only black stumps sticking up, with the ground covered by a new growth of bushes. there was quite a difference between the two sides; and we camped where we were, on the bare side, which was the safest for a camp fire. it would have been a shame to spoil the other side, too. we were tired, after being up part of the night and climbing all the morning, and this was a good place to stop. plenty of dry wood, plenty of water, and space to spread our beds. the creek was smooth and wide, here, about the middle of the park. the beaver had been damming it. but although we looked about, after locating camp and unpacking the burros, we couldn't find a fresh sign. we came upon camp sign, though, two days old, at least. somebody had trapped every beaver and then had left. that seemed mean, because it was against the law to trap beaver, and here they weren't doing any harm. but the fire had laid waste one shore of the pond, and animal killers had laid waste the pond itself. we decided to have a big meal. there ought to be wild raspberries in this burnt timber; wild raspberries always follow a forest fire--and that is a queer thing, isn't it? so, after camp was laid out (which is the first thing to do), and our flags set up, while fitzpatrick the bad hand and major henry built a fire and got things ready for dinner, general ashley and kit carson went after berries and little jed smith and i were detailed to catch trout. we had lines and hooks, but we didn't bother to pack rods, because you almost always can get willows. (note 18.) some fellows would have cut green willows, because they bend. we knew better. we cut a dead willow apiece. we were after meat, and not just sport; and when we had a trout bite we wanted to yank him right out. a stiff, dead willow will do that. grasshoppers were whirring around, among the dried trunks and the grass. that is what grasshoppers like, a place where it's hot and open. as a rule you get bigger fish with bait than you do with a fly, so we put on grasshoppers. i hate sticking a hook into a grasshopper, or a worm either; and we killed our grasshoppers quick by smashing their heads before we hooked them. it was going to be hard work, catching trout around this beaver pond. the water was wide and smooth and shallow and clear, and a trout would see you coming. when a trout knows that you are about, then the game is off. besides, lots of people had been fishing the pond, and the beaver hunters must have been fishing it lately, according to sign. but that made it all the more exciting. little trout are caught easily, and the big ones are left for the person who can outwit them. after we were ready, we reconnoitered. we sat down and studied to see where we'd prefer to be if we were a big trout. a big trout usually doesn't prowl about much. he gets a lair, in a hole or under a bank, and stays close, eating whatever comes his way, and chasing out all the smaller trout. sometimes he swims into the ripples, to feed; but back he goes to his lair again. so we studied the situation. there was no use in wading about, or shaking the banks, and scaring trout, unless we had a plan. it looked to me that if i were a big trout i'd be in a shady spot over across, where the water swept around a low place of the dam and made a black eddy under the branches of a spruce. jed smith said all right, i could try that, and he would try where the bank on our side stuck out over the water a little. i figured that my hole would be fished by about everybody from the water. most persons would wade across, and cast up-stream to the edge of it; and if a trout was still there he would be watching out for that. so the way to surprise him would be to sneak on him from a new direction. i went down below, and crossed (over my boot-tops) to the other side, and followed up through the timber. i had to crawl under the spruce--and i was mighty careful not to shake the ground or to make any noise, for we needed fish. nobody had been to the hole from this direction; it was too hard work. by reaching out with my pole i could just flip the hopper into the water. i tried twice; and the second time i landed him right in the swirl. he hadn't floated an inch when a yellowish thing calmly rose under him and he was gone! i jerked up with the willow, and the line tightened and began to tug. i knew by the color and the way he swallowed the hopper without any fuss that he was a king trout, and if i didn't haul him right in he'd break the pole or tear loose. i shortened pole like lightning and grabbed the line; but it got tangled in the branches of the spruce, and the trout was hung up with just his nose out of water. jiminy! but he was making the spray fly. he looked as big as a beaver, and the hook was caught in the very edge of his lip. that made me hurry. in a moment he'd be away. i suppose i leaned out too far, to grab the line again, or to get him by the gills, for i slipped and dived headfirst into the hole. whew, but the water was cold! it took my breath--but i didn't care. all i feared was that now i'd lost the fish. he weighed four pounds, by this time, i was sure. as soon as i could stand and open my eyes i looked for him. when i had dived in i must have shaken loose the line, for it was under water again, and part of the pole, too. i sprawled for the pole and grabbed it as it was sliding out. the line tightened. the trout was still on. now i must rustle for the shore. so i did, paying out the pole behind me so as not to tear the hook free; and the minute i scrambled knee-deep, with a big swing i hustled that trout in and landed him in the brush just as he flopped off! i tell you, i was glad. some persons would have wanted a reel and light tackle, to play him--but we were after meat. "i've got one--a big one!" i yelled, across to where jed smith was. "so have i!" yelled little jed back. i had picked my trout up. he wasn't so awful big, after all; only about fifteen inches long, which means two pounds. he was an eastern brook trout. they grow larger in the cold water of the west than they do in their own homes. but i looked for jed--and then dropped my trout and waded over to help _him_. he was out in the water, up to his waist, and something was jerking him right along. "i can't get him out!" he called, as i was coming. "how big is yours?" "fifteen inches." "this one's as big as i am--big native!" and you should have heard jed grunt, as the line just surged around, in the current. "want any help?" i asked. "uh uh. if he can lick me, then he ought to get away." "where'd you catch him?" "against the bank." "swing him down the current and then lift him right in shore!" "look out he doesn't tear loose!" "he'll break that pole!" fitzpatrick and major henry were yelling at us from the fire; and then jed stubbed his toe on a rock and fell flat. he didn't let the pole go, though. he came up sputtering and he was as wet as i. "swing him down and then lift him right in!" kept shouting fitz and major henry. that was the best plan. "all right," answered jed. "you take the pole and start him," he said to me. "i'd have to haul him against the current." i was below him, of course, so as to head the trout up-stream. he tossed the butt at me and i caught it. that was generous of jed--to let me get the fish out, when he'd been the one to hook it. but we were scouts together, and we were after meat for all, not glory for one. i took the pole and with a swing downstream kept mr. trout going until he shot out to the edge of the pond, and there fitz tumbled on top of him and grabbed him with one hand by the gills. when we held him up we gave our patrol yell: b. s. a.! b. s. a.! elks! elks! hoo-ray! oooooooooooo! chapter iv the beaver man for he was a great one, that trout! he was the big fellow that everybody had been after, because he was twenty-six inches long and weighed four pounds and had only one eye! that was good woodcraft, for a boy twelve years old to sneak up on him and catch him with a willow pole and a line tied fast and a grasshopper, when regular fishermen with fine outfits had been trying right along. of course they'll say we didn't give him any show--but after he was hooked there was no use in torturing him. the hooking is the principal part. jed showed us how he had worked. he hadn't raised anything in the first hole, by the bank, and he had gone on to another place that looked good. lots of people had fished this second place; there was a regular path to it through the weeds, on the shore side; and below it, along the shallows, the mud was full of tracks. but jed had been smart. a trout usually lies with his head up-stream, so as to gobble whatever comes down. but here the current set in with a back-action, so that it made a little eddy right against the bank--and a trout in that particular spot would have his nose _downstream_. so jed fished from the direction opposite to that from which other persons had fished. he went around, and approached from up-stream, awfully careful not to make any noise or raise any settlings. then he reached far and bounced his hopper from the bank into the edge--as if it had fallen of itself--and it was gobbled quick as a wink and the old trout pulled jed in, too. so in fishing as in other scouting, i guess, you ought to do what the enemy isn't expecting you to do. my trout was just a minnow beside of jed's; and the two of them were all we could eat, so we quit; jed and i stripped off our wet clothes and took a rub with a towel and sat in dry underclothes, while the wet stuff was hung up in the sun. we felt fine. that was a great dinner. we rolled the trout in mud and baked them whole. and we had fried potatoes, hot bread (or what people would call biscuits), and wild raspberries with condensed milk. general ashley and kit carson had brought in a bucket of them. they were thick, back in the burnt timber, and were just getting ripe. after the big dinner and the washing of the dishes we lay around resting. jed smith and i couldn't do much until our clothes were dry. we stuffed our boots with some newspapers we had, to help them dry. (note 19.) while we were resting, fitzpatrick made our "sh!" sign which said "watch out! danger!" and with his hand by his side pointed across the beaver pond. we looked, with our eyes but not moving, so as not to attract attention. yes, a man had stepped out to the edge of the timber, at the upper end of the pond and across, and was standing. maybe he thought we didn't see him, but we did. and he saw us, too; for after a moment he stepped back again, and was gone. he had on a black slouch hat. he wasn't a large man. we pretended not to have noticed him, until we were certain that he wasn't spying from some other point. then general ashley spoke, in a low tone: "he acted suspicious. we ought to reconnoiter. scouts fitzpatrick and bridger will circle around the upper end of the pond, and scout kit carson and i will circle the lower. scouts corporal henry and jed smith will guard camp." my boots were still wet, but i didn't mind. so we started off, in pairs, which was the right way, fitz and i for the upper end of the pond. i carried a pole, as if we were going fishing, and we didn't hurry. we sauntered through the brush, and where the creek was narrow we crossed on some rocks, and followed the opposite shore down, a few yards back, so as to cut the spy's tracks. i might not have found them, among the spruce needles; but fitzpatrick the bad hand did. he found a heel mark, and by stooping down and looking along we could see a line where the needles had been kicked up, to the shore. marks show better, sometimes, when you look this way, along the ground; but we could have followed, anyhow, i think. the footprints were plain in the soft sand; if he had stood back a little further, and had been more careful where he stepped, we might not have found the tracks so easily; but he had stepped on some soft sand and mud. we knew that he was not a large man, because we had seen him; and we didn't believe that he was a prospector or a miner, because his soles were not hobbed--or a cow-puncher, because he had no high heels to sink in; he may have been a rancher, out looking about. "he must be left-handed," said fitz. "why?" i asked. "because, see?" and then he told me. sure enough. that was smart of fitz, i thought. but he's splendid to read sign. now we followed the tracks back. the man had come down and had returned by the same route. and up in the timber about fifty yards he had had a horse. we read how he had been riding through, and had stopped, and got off and walked down to the pond, and stood, and walked back and mounted again and ridden on. all that was easy for fitz, and i could read most of it myself. we trailed the horse until the tracks surely went away from the pond into the timber country; then we let it go, and met general ashley, to report. general ashley and kit carson also examined the prints in the sand, and we all agreed that the man probably was left-handed. now, why had he come down to the edge of the pond, on purpose, and looked at it and at us, and then turned up at a trot into the timber? it would seem as if he might have been afraid that we had seen him, and he didn't want to be seen. but all our guesses here and after we reached camp again didn't amount to much, of course. we decided to stay for the night. it was a good camp place, and we wouldn't gain anything, maybe, by starting on, near night, and getting caught in the timber in the dark. and this would give the burros a good rest and a fill-up before their climb. the burned stretch where we were was plumb full of live things--striped chipmunks, and pine squirrels, and woodpecker families. fitzpatrick started in to take chipmunk pictures--and you ought to see how he can manage a camera with one hand. he holds it between his knees or else under his left arm, to draw the bellows out, and the rest is easy. he scouted about and got some pictures of chipmunks real close, by waiting, and a picture of a woodpecker feeding young ones, at a hole in a dead pine stump. this was a good place for bear to come, after the berries; and we were hoping that one would amble in while we were there so that fitz could take a picture of it, too. bears don't hurt people unless people try to hurt them; and a bear would sooner have raspberries than have a man or boy, any day. fitzpatrick thought that if he could get a good picture of a bear, out in the open, that would bring him a scout's honor. of course, chipmunk pictures help, too. but while we were resting and fooling and taking pictures, and general ashley was bringing his diary and his map up to date, for record, we had another visitor. (note 20.) a man came riding a dark bay horse, with white nose and white right fore foot, along our side of the beaver pond, and halted at our camp. the horse had left ear swallow-tailed and was branded with a diamond five on the right shoulder. the man wasn't the man we had seen across the pond, for he wore a sombrero, and was taller and had on overalls, and cow-puncher boots. [illustration] "howdy?" he said. "how are you?" we answered. he sort of lazily dismounted, and yawned--but his sharp eyes were taking us and our camp all in. "out fishing?" he asked. "no, sir. passing through," said general ashley. "going far?" "over to green valley." "walking?" "yes, sir." "good place for beaver, isn't it?" "a bad place." "that so? used to be some about here. couldn't catch any, eh?" "we aren't trying. but it seems a bad place for beaver because the only one we have seen is a dead one in a trap." the man waked up. "whose trap?" "we don't know." and the general went on to explain. the man nodded. "i'm a deputy game warden," he said at last. "somebody's been trapping beaver in here, and it's got to stop. haven't seen any one pass through?" we had. the general reported. "smallish man?" "yes, sir." "roan hoss branded quarter circle d on the left hip? brass-bound stirrups?" "we didn't see the horse; but we think the man was left-handed," said the general. "why?" "he was left-footed, because there was a hole in the sole of the left shoe, and that would look as though he used his left foot more than his right. so we think he may be left-handed, too." (note 21.) the game warden grunted. he eyed our flag. "you kids must be regular boy scouts." "we are." "then i reckon you aren't catching any beaver. all right, i'll look for a left-footed man, maybe left-handed. but it's this fellow on the roan hoss i'm after. he's been trying to sell pelts. there's no use my trailing him, to-day. but i'll send word ahead, and if you lads run across him let somebody know. where are you bound for?" the general told him. "by way of pilot peak?" "yes, sir." "well, i'll tell you a short cut. you see that strip of young timber running up over the ridge? that's an old survey trail. it crosses to the other side. over beyond you'll strike dixon's park and a ruined saw-mill. after that you can follow up dixon's creek." we thanked him and he mounted and rode away. chapter v two recruits when we got up in the morning, the mountains still had their night-caps on. white mist was floating low about their tips, and lying in the gulches like streams and lakes. above timber-line, opposite us, was a long layer of cloud, with the top of old pilot peak sticking through. this was a weather sign, although the sun rose clear and the sky was blue. nightcaps are apt to mean a showery day. (note 22.) we took our wet rub, ate breakfast, policed the camp and killed the fire, and general ashley put camphor and cotton against little jed smith's back tooth, to stop some aching. maybe there was a hole in the tooth, or maybe jed had just caught cold in it, after being wet; but he ought to have had his teeth looked into before he started out on the scout. (note 23.) anyway, the camphor stopped the ache--and made him dance, too. we crossed the creek, above the beaver pond, and struck off into the old survey trail that cut over the ridge. the brush was thick, and the trees had sprung up again, so that really it wasn't a regular trail unless you had known about it. the blazes on the side trees had closed over. but all the same, by watching the scars, and by keeping in the line where the trees always opened out, and by watching the sky as it showed before, we followed right along. after we had been traveling about two hours, we heard thunder and that made us hustle the more, to get out of the thin timber, so that we would not be struck by lightning. (note 24.) the wind moaned through the trees. the rain was coming, sure. the trail was diagonally up-hill, all the way, and if we had been cigarette smokers we wouldn't have had breath enough to hit the fast pace that general ashley set. the burros had to trot, and it made little jed smith, who is kind of fat, wheeze; but we stuck it out and came to a flat place of short dried grass and bushes, with no trees. here we stopped. we were about nine thousand feet up. from where we were we could see the storm. it was flowing down along a bald-top mountain back from our camp at the beaver pond, and looked like gray smoke. the sun was just being swallowed. well, all we could do was to wait and take it, and see how bad it was. we tied sally and apache to some bushes, but we didn't unpack them, of course. the tarps on top would keep the grub from getting wet. the storm made a grand sight, as it rolled toward us, over the timber. and soon it was raining below us, down at the beaver pond--and then, with a drizzle and a spatter, the rain reached us, too. we sat hunched, under our hats, and took it. we might have got under blankets--but that would have given us soaked blankets for night, unless we had stretched the tarps, too; and if we had stretched the tarps then the rest of our packs would have suffered. the best way is to crawl under a spruce, where the limbs have grown close to the ground. but not in a thunder storm. and it is better to be wet yourself and have a dry camp for night, than to be dry yourself and have a wet camp for night. anyway, the rain didn't hurt us. while it thundered and lightened and the drops pelted us well, we sang our patrol song--which is a song like one used by the black feet indians: "the elk is our medicine, he makes us very strong. the elk is our medicine, the elk is our medicine, the elk is our medicine, he makes us very strong. ooooooooooooooooooooooo!" and when the thunder boomed we sang at it: "the _thunder_ is our medicine--" to show that we weren't afraid of it. the squall passed on over us, and when it had about quit we untied the burros and started on again. in just a minute we were warm and sweating and could shed our coats; and the sun came out hot to dry us off. we crossed the ridge, and on the other side we saw dixon's park. we knew it was dixon's park, because the timber had been cut from it, and dixon's park had had a saw-mill twenty years ago. once this park had been grown over with trees, like the side of the ridge where we had been climbing; but that saw-mill had felled everything in sight, so that now there were only old stumps and dead logs. it looked like a graveyard. if the mill had been watched, as most mills are to-day, and had been made to leave part of the trees, then the timber would have grown again. down through the graveyard we went, and stopped for nooning at the little creek which ran through the bottom. there weren't any fish in this creek; the mill had killed the timber, and it had driven out the fish with sawdust. it was just a dead place, and there didn't seem to be even chipmunks. we had nooning at the ruins of the mill. tin cans and old boot soles and rusted pipe were still scattered about. we were a little tired, and more rain was coming, so we made a fire by finding dry wood underneath slabs and things, and had tea and bread and butter. that rested us. little jed smith was only twelve years old, and we had to travel to suit him and not just to suit us bigger boys. i'm fourteen and major henry is sixteen. all the afternoon was showery; first we were dry, then we were wet; and there wasn't much fun about sloshing and slipping along; but we pegged away, and climbed out of dixon's park to the ridge beyond it. now we could see old pilot peak plain, and keeping to the high ground we made for it. it didn't look to be very far away; but we didn't know, now, all the things that lay between. the top of this ridge was flat, and the forest reserve people had been through and piled up the brush, so that a fire would not spread easily. that made traveling good, and we hiked our best. down in a gulch beside us there was a stream: dixon's creek. but we kept to the high ground, with our eyes open for a good camping spot, for the dark would close in early if the rain did not quit. and nobody can pick a good camping place in the dark. regular rest means a great deal when you are traveling across country. even cowboys will tell you that. they bed down as comfortably as they can, every time, on the round-up. after a while we came to a circular little spot, hard and flat, where the timber had opened out. and general ashley stopped and with a whirl dug in his heel as sign that we would camp here. there was wood and drainage and grass for the burros, and no danger of setting fire to the trees if we made a big fire. we had to carry water up from the creek below, but that was nothing. now we must hustle and get the camp in shape quick, before the things get wet. while fitzpatrick picked out a spot for his fire and major henry chopped wood, two of us unpacked each burro. we put the things under a tarp, and i started to bring up the water, but general ashley spoke. "we're out of meat," he said. "you take the rifle and shoot a couple of rabbits. there ought to be rabbits about after the rain." this suited me. he handed me the twenty-two rifle and five cartridges; out of those five cartridges i knew i could get two rabbits or else i wasn't any good as a hunter. the sun was shining once more, and the shadows were long in the timber, so i turned to hunt against the sun, and put my shadow behind me. of course, that wouldn't make _very_ much difference, because rabbits usually see you before you see them; but i was out after meat and must not miss any chances. there always is a right way and a wrong way. this was a splendid time to hunt for rabbits, right after a rain. they come out then before dark, and nibble about. and you can walk on the wetness without much noise. early morning and the evening are the best rabbit hours, anyway. i walked quick and straight-footed, looking far ahead, and right and left, through the timber, to sight whatever moved. yet i might be passing close to a rabbit, without seeing him, for he would be squatting. so i looked behind, too. and after i had walked about twenty minutes, i did see a rabbit. he was hopping, at one side, through the bushes; he gave only about three hops, and squatted, to let me pass. so i stopped stock-still, and drew up my rifle. he was about thirty yards away, and was just a bunch like a stone; but i held my breath and aimed at where his ears joined his head, and fired quick. he just kicked a little. that was a pretty good shot and i was glad, for i didn't want to hurt him and we had to have meat. i hunted quite a while before i saw another rabbit. the next one was a big old buck rabbit, because his hind quarters around his tail were brown; young rabbits are white there. he hopped off, without stopping, and i whistled at him--wheet! then he stopped, and i missed him. i shot over him, because i was in a hurry. i went across and saw where the bullet had hit. and he had ducked. he hopped out of sight, through the brush; so i must figure where he probably would go. on beyond was a hilly place, with rocks, and probably he lived here--and rabbits usually make up-hill when they're frightened. so i took a circle, to cut him off; and soon he hopped again and squatted. this time i shot him through the head, where i aimed; so i didn't hurt him, either. i picked him up and was starting back for camp, because two rabbits were enough, when i heard somebody shouting. it didn't sound like a scout's shout, but i answered and waited and kept answering, and in a few minutes a strange boy came running and walking fast through the trees. he carried a single-barrel shotgun. he never would have seen me if i hadn't spoken; but when he wasn't more than ten feet from me i said: "what's the matter?" he jumped and saw me standing. "hello," he panted. "was it you who was shooting and calling?" "yes." "why didn't you come on, then?" he scolded. he was angry. "because you were coming," i said. "i stood still and called back, to guide you." "what did you shoot at?" "rabbits." he hadn't seen them before, but now he saw them on the ground. "aw, jiminy!" he exclaimed. "we've got something better than that, but we can't make a fire and our matches are all wet and so are our blankets, and we don't know what to do. there's another fellow with me. we're lost." he was a sight; wet and dirty and sweaty from running, and scared. "what are you doing? camping?" i asked. he nodded. "we started for duck lake, with nothing but blankets and what grub we could carry; but we got to chasing around and we missed the trail and now we don't know where we are. gee, but we're wet and cold. where's your camp?" "back on the ridge." "got a fire?" "uh huh," i nodded. "sure." "come on," he said. "we'll go and get the other fellow and then we'll camp near you so as to have some fire." "all right," i said. he led off, and i picked up the rabbits and followed. he kept hooting, and the other boy answered, and we went down into the gulch where the creek flowed. now, that was the dickens of a place to camp! anybody ought to know better than to camp down at the bottom of a narrow gulch, where it is damp and nasty and dark. they did it because it was beside the water, and because there was some soft grass that they could lie on. (note 25.) the other boy was about seventeen, and was huddled in a blanket, trying to scratch a match and light wet paper. he wore a big colt's six-shooter on a cartridge belt about his waist. "come out, bat," called the boy with me. "here's a kid from another camp, where they have fire and things." bat grunted, and they gathered their blankets and a frying-pan and other stuff. "lookee! this beats rabbit," said the first boy (his name was walt); and he showed me what they had killed. it was four grouse! now, that was mean. "it's against the law to kill grouse yet," i told him. "aw, what do we care?" he answered. "nobody knows." "it's only a week before the season opens, anyhow," spoke bat. "we got the old mother and all her chickens. if we hadn't, somebody would, later." fellows like that are as bad as a forest fire. just because of them, laws are made, and they break them and the rest of us keep them. we climbed out of the gulch, and i was so mad i let them carry their own things. the woods were dusky, and i laid a straight course for camp. it was easy to find, because i knew that i had hunted with my back to it, in sound of the water on my left. all we had to do was to follow through the ridge with the water on our right, and listen for voices. i tell you, that camp looked good. the boys had two fires, a big one to dry us by and a little one to cook by. (note 26.) one of the tarps had been laid over a pole in crotched stakes, about four feet high, and tied down at the ends (note 27), for a dog-tent, and spruce trimmings and brush had been piled behind for a wind-break and to reflect the heat. inside were the spruce needles that carpeted the ground and had been kept dry by branches, and a second tarp had been laid to sleep on, with the third tarp to cover us, on top of the blankets. the flags had been set up. fitzpatrick was cooking, major henry was dragging more wood to burn, the fellows were drying damp stuff and stacking it safe under the panniers, or else with their feet to the big blaze were drying themselves, the burros were grazing close in. it was as light as day, with the flames reflected on the trees and the flags, and it seemed just like a trappers' bivouac. then we walked into the circle; and when the fellows saw the rabbits they gave a cheer. after i reported to general ashley and turned the two boys over to him, i cleaned the rabbits for supper. the two new boys, bat and walt, threw down their stuff and sat by the fire to get warm. bat still wore his big six-shooter. they dropped their grouse in plain sight, but nobody said a word until bat (he was the larger one) spoke up, kind of grandly, when i was finishing the rabbits: "there's some birds. if you'll clean 'em we'll help you eat 'em." "no, thanks. we don't want them," answered general ashley. "why not?" "it's against the law." "aw, what difference does that make now?" demanded walt. "there aren't any game wardens 'round. and it's only a week before the law goes out, anyway." "but the grouse are dead, just the same," retorted general ashley. "they couldn't be any deader, no matter how long it is before the law opens, or if a game warden was right here!" he was getting angry, and when he's angry he isn't afraid to say anything, because he's red-headed. "you'd like to go and tell, then; wouldn't you!" they sneered. "i'd tell if it would do any good." and he would, too; and so would any of us. "the game laws are made to be kept. those were our grouse and you stole them." "who are you?" "well, we happen to be a bunch of boy scouts. but what i mean is, that we fellows who keep the law let the game live on purpose so that everybody will have an equal chance at it, and then fellows like you come along and kill it unfairly. see?" humph! the two kids mumbled and kicked at the fire, as they sat; and bat said: "we've got to have something to eat. i suppose we can cook our own meat, can't we?" "i suppose you can," answered general ashley, "if it'll taste good to you." so, while fitz was cooking on the small fire, they cleaned their own birds (i didn't touch them) and cooked over some coals of the big fire. but fitz made bread enough for all, and there was other stuff; and the general told them to help themselves. we didn't want to be mean. the camp-fire is no place to be mean at. a mean fellow doesn't last long, out camping. they had used bark for plates. they gave their fry-pan a hasty rub with sticks and grass, and cleaned their knives by sticking them into the ground; and then they squatted by the fire and lighted pipes. after our dishes had been washed and things had been put away for the night, and the burros picketed in fresh forage, we prepared to turn in. the clouds were low and the sky was dark, and the air was damp and chilly; so general ashley said: "you fellows can bunk in with us, under the tarps. we can make room." but no! they just laughed. "gwan," they said. "we're used to traveling light. we just roll up in a blanket wherever we happen to be. we aren't tenderfeet." well, we weren't, either. but we tried to be comfortable. when you are uncomfortable and sleep cold or crampy, that takes strength fighting it; and we were on the march to get that message through. so we crawled into bed, out of the wind and where the spruce branches partly sheltered us, and our tarps kept the dampness out and the wind, too. the two fellows opened their blankets (they had one apiece!) by the fire and lay down and rolled up like logs and seemed to think that they were the smarter. we let them, if they liked it so. the wind moaned through the trees; all about us the timber was dark and lonesome. only apache and sally, the burros, once in a while grunted as they stood as far inside the circle as they could get; but snuggled in our bed, low down, our heads on our coats, we were as warm as toast. during the night i woke up, to turn over. now and then a drop of rain hit the tarp tent. the fire was going again, and i could hear the two fellows talking. they were sitting up, feeding it, and huddled injun fashion with their blankets over their shoulders, smoking their old pipes, and thinking (i guessed) that they were doing something big, being uncomfortable. but it takes more than such foolishness--wearing a big six-shooter when there is nothing to shoot, and sleeping out in the rain when cover is handy--to make a veteran. veterans and real scouts act sensibly. (note 28.) when next i woke and stretched, the sun was shining and it was time to get up. chapter vi a disastrous doze the two fellows were sound asleep when we turned out. they were lying in the sun, rolled up and with their faces covered to keep the light away. we didn't pay any attention to them, but had our wet rub and went ahead attending to camp duties. after a while one of them (walt, it was) turned over, and wriggled, and threw the blanket off his face, and blinked about. he was bleary-eyed and sticky-faced, as if he had slept too hard but not long enough. and i didn't see how he had had enough air to breathe. but he grinned, and yawned, and said: "you kids get up awful early. what time is it?" "six o'clock." he-haw! and he yawned some more. then he sat up and let his blanket go and kicked bat. "breakfast!" he shouted. that made bat grunt and grumble and wriggle; and finally uncover, too. they acted as if their mouths might taste bad, after the pipes. we hadn't made a big fire, of course; but breakfast was about ready, on the little fire, and fitz our cook sang out, according to our regulations: "chuck!" that was the camp's signal call. "if you fellows want to eat with us, draw up and help yourselves," invited general ashley. "sure," they answered; and they crawled out of their blankets, and got their pieces of bark, and opened their knives, and without washing their faces or combing their hair they fished into the dishes, for bacon and bread and sorghum and beans. that was messy; but we wanted to be hospitable, so we didn't say anything. "where are you kids bound for, anyway?" asked bat. "over the divide," told general ashley. "why can't we go along?" that staggered us. they weren't our kind; and besides, we were all boy scouts, and our party was big enough as it was. so for a moment nobody answered. and then walt spoke up. "aw, we won't hurt you any. what you afraid of? we aren't tenderfeet, and we'll do our share. we'll throw in our grub and we won't use your dishes. we've got our own outfit." "i don't know. we'll have to vote on that," said general ashley. "we're a patrol of boy scouts, traveling on business." "what's that--boy scouts?" demanded bat. we explained, a little. "take us in, then," said walt. "we're good scouts--ain't we, bat?" but they weren't. they didn't know anything about scouts and scouts' work. "we could admit you as recruits, on the march," said general ashley. "but we can't swear you in." "aw, we'll join the gang now and you can swear us in afterwards," said bat. "well," said general ashley, doubtfully, "we'll take a vote." we all drew off to one side, and sat in council. it seemed to me that we might as well let them in. that would be doing them a good turn, and we might help them to be clean and straight and obey the laws. boys who seem mean as dirt, to begin with, often are turned into fine scouts. "now we'll all vote just as we feel about it," said general ashley. "one black-ball will keep them out. 'n' means 'no'; 'y' means 'yes.'" the vote was taken by writing with a pencil on bits of paper, and the bits were put into general ashley's hat. everything was "y"--and the vote was unanimous to let them join. so everybody must have felt the same about it as i did. general ashley reported to them. "you can come along," he said; "but you've got to be under discipline, the same as the rest of us. and if you prove to be scouts' stuff you can be sworn in later. but i'm only a patrol leader and i can't swear you." "sure!" they cried. "we'll be under discipline. who's the boss? you?" we had made a mistake. here started our trouble. but we didn't know. we thought that we were doing the right thing by giving them a chance. you never can tell. they volunteered to wash the dishes, and went at it; and we let them throw their blankets and whatever else they wanted to get rid of in with the packs. we were late; and anyway we didn't think it was best to start in fussing and disciplining; they would see how scouts did, and perhaps they would catch on that way. only-"you'll have to cut that out," ordered general ashley, as we were ready to set out. he meant their pipes. they had stuck them in their mouths and had lighted them. "what? can't we hit the pipe?" they both cried. "not with us," declared the general. "it's against the regulations." "aw, gee!" they complained. "that's the best part of camping--to load up the old pipe." "not for a scout. he likes fresh air," answered general ashley. "he needs his wind, too, and smoking takes the wind. anyway, we're traveling through the enemy's country, and a pipe smells, and it's against scout regulations to smoke." they stuffed their pipes into their pockets. "who's the enemy?" they asked. "we're carrying a message and some other boys are trying to stop us. that's all." "we saw some kids, on the other side of that ridge," they cried. "they're from the same town you are. are they the ones?" "what did they look like?" we asked. "one was a big kid with black eyes--" said bat. "aw, he wasn't big. the big kid had blue eyes," interrupted walt. "how many in the party?" we asked. "four," said bat. "five," said walt. "any horses?" "yes." "what were the brands?" "we didn't notice," they said. "was one horse a bay with a white nose, and another a black with a bob tail?" "guess so," they said. so we didn't know much more than we did before; we could only suspect. of course, there were other parties of boys camping, in this country. we weren't the only ones. if bat and walt had been a little smart they might have helped us. they didn't use their eyes. we followed the ridge we were on, as far as we could, because it was high and free from brush. general ashley and major henry led, as usual, with the burros behind (those burros would follow now like dogs, where there wasn't any trail for them to pick out), and then the rest of us, the two recruits panting in the rear. bat had belted on his big six-shooter, and walt carried the shotgun. we traveled fast, as usual, when we could; that gave us more time in the bad places. pilot peak stuck up, beyond some hills, ahead. we kept an eye on him, for he was our landmark, now that we had broken loose from trails. he didn't seem any nearer than he was the day before. the ridge ended in a point, beyond which was a broad pasture-like meadow, with the creek winding in a semicircle through it. on across was a steep range of timber hills--and pilot peak and some other peaks rose beyond, with snow and rocks. in the flat a few cattle were grazing, like buffalo, and we could see an abandoned cabin which might have been a trapper's shack. it was a great scene; so free and peaceful and wild and gentle at the same time. we weren't tired, but we halted by the stream in the flat to rest the burros and to eat something. we took off the packs, and built a little fire of dry sage, and made tea, while sally and apache took a good roll and then grazed on weeds and flowers and everything. this was fine, here in the sunshine, with the blue sky over and the timber sloping up on all sides, and the stream singing. after we had eaten some bread and drunk some tea we scouts rested, to digest; but bat and walt the two recruits loafed off, down the creek, and when they got away a little we could see them smoking. on top of that, they hadn't washed the dishes. so i washed them. after a while they came back on the run, but they weren't smoking now. "say!" they cried, excited. "we found some deer-tracks. let's camp back on the edge of the timber, and to-night when the deer come down to drink we'll get one!" that was as bad as shooting grouse. it wasn't deer season. they didn't seem to understand. "against the law," said general ashley. "and we're on the march, to go through as quick as we can. it's time to pack." "i'll pack one of those burros. i'll show you how," offered bat. so we let them go ahead, because they might know more than we. they led up sally, while major henry and jed smith and kit carson began to pack apache. the recruits threw on the pack, all right, and passed the rope; but sally moved because they were so rough, and bat swore and kicked her in the stomach. "get around there!" he said. "here! you quit that," scolded fitzpatrick, first. "that's no way to treat an animal." he was angry; we all were angry. (note 29.) "it's the way to treat this animal," retorted bat. "i'll kick her head off if she doesn't stand still. see?" "no, you won't," warned general ashley. "if you can pack a burro so well, pack her yourself, then," answered walt. "fitzpatrick, you and jim bridger help me with sally," ordered the general; and we did. we threw the diamond hitch in a jiffy and the pack stuck on as if it were glued fast. the two recruits didn't have much more to say; but when we took up the march again they sort of sulked along, behind. we thought best to follow up the creek, through the flat, instead of making a straight climb of the timber beyond. that would have been hard work, and slow work, and you can travel a mile in the open in less time than you can travel half a mile through brush. a cattle trail led up through the flat. this flat closed, and then opened by a little pass into another flat. we saw plenty of tracks where deer had come down to the creek and had drunk. there were tracks of bucks, and of does and of fawns. walt and bat kept grumbling and talking. they wanted to stop off and camp, and shoot. pilot peak was still on our left; but toward evening the trail we were following turned off from the creek and climbed through gooseberry and thimbleberry bushes to the top of a plateau, where was a park of cedars and flowers, and where was a spring. general ashley dug in with his heel, and we off-packs, to camp. it was a mighty good camping spot, again. (note 30.) the timber thickened, beyond, and there was no sense in going on into it, for the night. into the heel mark we stuck the flagstaff. we went right ahead with our routine. the recruits had a chance to help, if they wanted to. but they loafed. there was plenty of time before sunset. the sun shone here half an hour or more longer than down below. we were up pretty high; some of the aspens had turned yellow, showing that there had been a frost, already. so we thought that we must be up about ten thousand feet. the stream we followed had flowed swift, telling of a steep grade. fitzpatrick the bad hand got out his camera, to take pictures. he never wasted any time. not ordinary camp pictures, you know, but valuable pictures, of animals and sunsets and things. jays and speckled woodpeckers were hopping about, and a pine-squirrel sat on a limb and scolded at us until he found that we were there to fit in and be company for him. one side of the plateau fell off into rocks and cliffs, and a big red ground-hog was lying out on a shelf in the sunset, and whistling his call. fitz was bound to have a picture of him, and sneaked around, to stalk him and snap him, close. but just as he was started--"bang!" i jumped three feet; we all jumped. it was that fellow bat. he had shot off his forty-five colt's, at the squirrel, and with it smoking in his hand he was grinning, as if he had played a joke on us. he hadn't hit the squirrel, but it had disappeared. the ground-hog disappeared, the jays and the woodpeckers flew off, and after the report died away you couldn't hear a sound or see an animal. the gun had given notice to the wild life to vacate, until we were gone. and where that bullet hit, nobody could tell. fitzpatrick turned around and came back. he knew it wasn't much use trying, now. we were disgusted, but general ashley was the one to speak, because he was patrol leader. "you ought not to do that. shooting around camp isn't allowed," he said. "it's dangerous, and it scares things away." "i wanted that squirrel. i almost hit him, too," answered bat. "well, he was protected by camp law." (note 31.) "aw, all you kids are too fresh," put in walt, the other. "we'll shoot as much as we please, or else we'll pull out." "if you can't do as the rest of us do, all right: pull," answered the general. "let them. we don't want them," said major henry. "we didn't ask them in the first place. what's the sense in carrying a big revolver around, and playing tough!" "that will do, henry," answered the general. "i'm talking for the patrol." "come on, walt. we'll take our stuff and pull out and make our own camp," said bat. "we won't be bossed by any red-headed kid--or any one-armed kid, either." he was referring to the gun and to the burro packing, both. major henry began to sputter and growl. a black-eyed boy is as spunky as a red-headed one. and we all stood up, ready, if there was to be a fight. but there wasn't. it wasn't necessary. general ashley flushed considerably, but he kept his temper. "that's all right," he said. "if you can't obey discipline, like the rest, you don't camp with us." "and we don't intend to, you bet," retorted walt. "we're as good as you are and a little better, maybe. we're no tenderfeet!" they gathered their blankets and their frying-pan and other outfit, and they stalked off about a hundred yards, further into the cedars, and dumped their things for their own camp. maybe they thought that we'd try to make them get out entirely, but we didn't own the place; it was a free camp for all, and as long as they didn't interfere with us we had no right to interfere with them. we made our fire and they started theirs; and then i was sent out to hunt for meat again. i headed away from camp, and i got one rabbit and a great big ground-hog. some people won't eat ground-hog, but they don't know what is good; only, he must be cleaned right away. well, i was almost at camp again when "whish! bang!" somebody had shot and had spattered all around me, stinging my ear and rapping me on the coat and putting a couple of holes in my hat. i dropped flat, in a hurry. "hey!" i yelled. "look out there! what you doing?" but it was "bang!" again, and more shot whizzing by; this time none hit me. now i ran and sat behind a rock. and after a while i made for camp, and i was glad to reach it. i was still some stirred up about being peppered, and so i went straight to the other fire. the two fellows were there cleaning a couple of squirrels. "who shot them?" i asked. "walt." "and he nearly filled me full of holes, too," i said. "look at my hat." "who nearly filled you full of holes?" asked walt. "you did." "aw, i didn't, either. i wasn't anywhere near you." "you were, too," i answered, hot. "you shot right down over the hill, and when i yelled at you, you shot again." walt was well scared. "'twasn't me," he said. "i saw you start out and i went opposite." "well, you ought to be careful, shooting in the direction of camp," i said. "didn't hurt you." "it might have put my eyes out, just the same." and i had to go back and clean my game and gun. we had a good supper. the other fellows kept to their own camp and we could smell them smoking cigarettes. with them close, and with news that another crowd was out, we were obliged to mount night guard. there was no use in two of us staying awake at the same time, and we divided the night into four watches--eight to eleven, eleven to one, one to three, three to five. the first watch was longest, because it was the easiest watch. we drew lots for the partners who would sleep all night, and jed smith and major henry found they wouldn't have to watch. we four others would. fitz went on guard first, from eight to eleven. at eleven he would wake carson, and would crawl into carson's place beside of general ashley. at one carson would wake me, and would crawl into my place where i was alone. and at three i would wake general ashley and crawl into his place beside fitz again. so we would disturb each other just as little as possible and only at long intervals. (note 32.) it seemed to me that i had the worst watch of all--from one to three; it broke my night right in two. of course a scout takes what duty comes, and says nothing. but jiminy, i was sleepy when carson woke me and i had to stagger out into the dark and the cold. he cuddled down in a hurry into my warm nest and there i was, on guard over the sleeping camp, here in the timber far away from lights or houses or people. the fire was out, but i could see by star shine. low in the west was a half moon, just sinking behind the mountains there. down in the flat which we had left coyotes were barking. maybe they smelled fawns. somebody was snoring. that was fatty jed smith. he and major henry were having a fine sleep. so were all the rest, under the whity tarps which looked ghostly and queer. and i went to sleep, too! that was awful, for a scout on guard. i don't know why i couldn't keep awake, but i couldn't. i tried every way. i rubbed my eyes, and i dipped water out of the spring and washed my face, and i dropped the blanket i was wearing, so that i would be cold. and i walked in a circle. then i thought that maybe if i sat down with the blanket about me, i would be better off. so i sat down. if i could let my eyes close for just a second, to rest them, i would be all right. and they did close--and when i opened them i was sort of toppled over against the tree, and was stiff and astonished--and it was broad morning and i hadn't wakened general ashley! i staggered up as quick as i could. i looked around. things seemed to be o. k. and quiet and peaceful--but suddenly i missed the flags, and then i missed the burros! yes, sir! the flagstaff was gone, leaving the hole where it had been stuck. and the burros were gone, picket ropes and all! the place where they ought to be appeared mighty vacant. and now i sure was frightened. i hustled to the camp of the two boys, bat and walt, and they were gone. that looked bad. my duty now was to arouse our camp and give the alarm, so i must wake general ashley. you can imagine how i hated to. i almost was sore because he hadn't waked up, himself, at three o'clock, instead of waiting for me and letting me sleep. but i shook him, and he sat up, blinking. i saluted. "it's after four o'clock," i reported, "and i slept on guard and the flags and the burros are gone." and then i wanted to cry, but i didn't. chapter vii held by the enemy "oh, the dickens!" stammered general ashley; and out he rolled, in a hurry. he didn't stop to blame me. "have you looked for sign?" "the burros might have strayed, but the flags couldn't and only the hole is there. and those two fellows of the other camp are gone, already." general ashley began to pull on his shoes and lace them. "rouse the camp," he ordered. so i did. and to every one i said: "i slept on guard and the flags and the burros are gone." i was willing to be shot, or discharged, or anything; and i didn't have a single solitary excuse. i didn't try to think one up. the general took fitzpatrick, who is our best trailer, and major henry, and started in to work out the sign, while the rest of us hustled with breakfast. the ground about the flag hole was trampled and not much could be done there; and not much could be done right where the burros had stood, because we all from both camps had been roaming around. but the general and fitz and major henry circled, wider and wider, watching out for burro tracks pointing back down the trail, or else out into the timber. the hoofs of the burros would cut in, where the feet of the two fellows might not have left any mark. pretty soon the burro tracks were found, and boot-heels, too; and while fitzpatrick followed the trail a little farther the general and major henry came back to the camp. breakfast was ready. "fitzpatrick and jim bridger and i will take the trail of the burros, and you other three stay here," said general ashley. "if we don't come back by morning, or if you don't see smoke-signals from us that we're all right, you cache the stuff and come after us." that was splendid of the general to give me a chance to make good on the trail. it was better than if he'd ordered me close in camp, or had not paid any attention to me. fitz returned, puffing. he had followed the trail a quarter of a mile and it grew plainer as the two fellows had hurried more. we ate a big breakfast (we three especially, i mean), and prepared for the trail. we tied on our coats in a roll like blankets, but we took no blankets, for we must travel light. we stuffed some bread and chocolate into our coat pockets, and we were certain that we had matches and knife. i took the short bow and arrows, as game getter; but we left the rifle for the camp. we would not have used a rifle, anyway. it made noise; and we must get the burros by scoutcraft alone. but those burros we would have, and the flags. the general slung one of the patrol's ropes about him, in case we had to rope the burros. we set right out, fitzpatrick leading, as chief trailer. much depended upon our speed, and that is why we traveled light; for you never can follow a trail as fast as it was made, and we must overtake those fellows by traveling longer. they were handicapped by the burros, though, which helped us. we planned to keep going, and eat on the march, and by night sneak on the camp. the trail wasn't hard to follow. burro tracks are different from cow tracks and horse tracks and deer tracks; they are small and oblong--narrow like a colt's hoof squeezed together or like little mule tracks. the two fellows used the cattle trail, and fitzpatrick read the sign for us. "they had to lead the burros," he said. "the burros' tracks are on top of the sole tracks." we hurried. and then-"now they're driving 'em," he said. "they're stepping on top of the burro tracks; and i think that they're all on the trot, too, by the way the burros' hind hoofs overlap the front hoofs, and dig in." we hurried more, at scout pace, which is trotting and walking mixed. and next-"now they've got on the burros," said fitz. "there aren't any sole tracks and the burros' hoofs dig deeper." the fellows surely were making time. i could imagine how they kicked and licked sally and apache, to hasten. and while we hastened, too, we must watch the signs and be cautious that we didn't overrun or get ambushed. where the sun shone we could tell that the sign was still an hour or more old, because the edges of the hoof-marks were baked hard; and sticks and stones turned up had dried. and in the shade the bits of needles and grass stepped on had straightened a little. and there were other signs, but we chose those which we could read the quickest. (note 33.) we were high up among cedars and bushes, on a big mesa. there were cattle, here, and grassy parks for them. most of the cattle bore a big w brand. the trail the cattle had made kept dividing and petering out, and we had to pick the one that the burros took. the fellows were riding, still, but not at a trot so much. maybe they thought that we had been left, by this time. pretty soon the burros had been grabbing at branches and weeds, which showed that they were going slower, and were hungry; and the fellows had got off and were walking. the sun was high and the air was dry, so that the signs were not so easy to read, and we went slower, too. the country up here grew open and rocky, and at last we lost the trail altogether. that was bad. the general and i circled and scouted, at the sides, and fitz went on ahead, to pick it up beyond, maybe. pretty soon we heard him whistle the elks' call. he had come out upon a rocky point. the timber ended, and before and right and left was a great rolling valley, of short grasses and just a few scattered trees, with long slopes holding it like a cup. the sun was shining down, and the air was clear and quivery. "i see them," said fitz. "there they are, general--in a line between us and that other point of rocks." hurrah! this was great news. sure enough, when we had bent low and sneaked to the rocks, and were looking, we could make out two specks creeping up the sunshine slope, among the few trees, opposite. that was good, and it was bad. the thieves were not a mile ahead of us, then, but now we must scout in earnest. it would not do for us to keep to the trail across that open valley. some fellows might have rushed right along; and if the other fellows were sharp they would be looking back, at such a spot, to watch for pursuers. so we must make a big circuit, and stay out of sight, and hit the trail again on the other side. we crept back under cover, left a "warning" sign on the trail (note 34), and swung around, and one at a time we crossed the valley higher up, where it was narrower and there was brush for cover. this took time, but it was the proper scouting; and now we hurried our best along the other slope to pick up the trail once more. it was after noon, by the sun, and we hadn't stopped to eat, and we were hungry and hot and pretty tired. as we never talked much on the trail, especially when we might be near the enemy, fitzpatrick made a sign that we climb straight to the top of the slope and follow along there, to strike the trail. and if the fellows had turned off anywhere, in gulch or to camp, we were better fixed above them than below them. we scouted carefully along this ridge, and came to a gulch. a path led through, where cattle had traveled, and in the damp dirt were the burro tracks. hurrah! they were soft and fresh. the sun was going to set early, in a cloud bank, and those fellows would be camping soon. it was no use to rush them when they were traveling; they had guns and would hang on to the burros. the way to do was to crawl into their camp. so we traveled slower, in order to give them time to camp. after a while we smelled smoke. the timber was thick, and the general and i each climbed a tree, to see where that smoke came from. i was away at the top of a pine, and from that tree the view was grand. pilot peak stood up in the wrong direction, as if we had been going around, and mountains and timber were everywhere. i saw the smoke. and away to the north, ten miles, it seemed to me i could see another smoke, with the sun showing it up. it was a column smoke, and i guessed that it was a smoke signal set by the three scouts we had left, to show us where camp was. but the smoke that we were after rose in a blue haze above the trees down in a little park about a quarter of a mile on our right. we left a "warning" sign, and stalked the smoke. although fitzpatrick has only one whole arm, he can stalk as well as any of us. we advanced cautiously, and could smell the smoke stronger and stronger; we began to stoop and to crawl and when we had wriggled we must halt and listen. we could not hear anybody talking. the general led, and fitz and i crawled behind him, in a snake scout. i think that maybe we might have done better if we had stalked from three directions. everything was very quiet, and when we could see where the fire ought to be we made scarcely a sound. the general brushed out of his way any twigs that would crack. it was a fine stalk. we approached from behind a cedar, and parting the branches the general looked through. he beckoned to us, and we wriggled along and looked through. there was a fire, and our flags stuck beside it, and sally and apache standing tied to a bush, and blankets thrown down--but not anybody at home! the two fellows must be out fishing or hunting, and this seemed a good chance. the general signed. we all were to rush in, fitz would grab the flag, and i a burro and the general a burro, and we would skip out and travel fast, across country. i knew that by separating and turning and other tricks we would outwit those two kids, if we got any kind of a start. we listened, holding our breath. nobody seemed near. now was the time. the general stood, fitz and i stood, and in we darted. fitz grabbed the flag, and i was just hauling at sally while the general slashed the picket-ropes with his knife, when there rose a tremendous yell and laugh and from all about people charged in on us. before we could escape we were seized. they were eight to our three. two of them were the two kids bat and walt, and the other six were town fellows--bill duane, tony matthews, bert hawley, mike delavan, and a couple more. how they whooped! we felt cheap. the camp had been a trap. the two kids bat and walt had come upon the other crowd accidentally, and had told about us and that maybe we were trailing them, and they all had ambushed us. we ought to have reconnoitered more, instead of thinking about stalking. we ought to have been more suspicious, and not have underestimated the enemy. (note 35.) this was just a made-to-order camp. the camp of the town gang was about three hundred yards away, lower, in another open place, by a creek. they tied our arms and led us down there. "aw, we thought you fellers were scouts!" jeered bat. "you're easy." he and walt took the credit right to themselves. "what do you want with us?" demanded general ashley, of bill duane. "we haven't done anything to harm you." "we'll show you," said bill. "first we're going to skin you, and then we're going to burn you at the stake, and then we're going to kill you." of course we knew that he was only fooling; but it was a bad fix, just the same. they might keep us, for meanness; and major henry and kit carson and jed smith wouldn't know exactly what to do and we'd be wasting valuable time. that was the worst: we were delaying the message! and i had myself to blame for this, because i went to sleep on guard. a little mistake may lead to a lot of trouble. and now the worst happened. when they got us to the main camp bill duane walked up to general ashley and said: "where you got that message, red?" "what message?" answered general ashley. "aw, get out!" laughed bill. "if we untie you will you fork it over or do you want me to search you?" "'tisn't your message, and if i had it i wouldn't give it to you. but you'd better untie us, just the same. and we want those burros and our flags." "hold him till i search him, fellows," said bill. "he's got it, i bet. he's the big scout." fitz and i couldn't do a thing. one of the gang put his arm under the general's chin and held him tight, and bill duane went through him. he didn't find the message in any pockets; but he saw the buckskin thong, and hauled on it, and out came the packet from under the general's shirt. bill put it in his own pocket. "there!" he said. "now what you going to do about it?" the general was as red all over as his hair and looked as if he wanted to fight or cry. fitz was white and red in spots, and i was so mad i shook. "nothing, now," said the general, huskily. "you don't give us a chance to do anything. you're a lot of cowards--tying us up and searching us, and taking our things." [illustration: "bill duane went through him."] then they laughed at us some more, and all jeered and made fun, and said that they would take the message through for us. i tell you, it was humiliating, to be bound that way, as prisoners, and to think that we had failed in our trust. as scouts we had been no good--and i was to blame just because i had fallen asleep at my post. they were beginning to quit laughing at us, and were starting to get supper, when suddenly i heard horse's hoofs, and down the bridle path that led along an edge of the park rode a man. he heard the noise and he saw us tied, i guess, for he came over. "what's the matter here?" he asked. the gang calmed down in a twinkling. they weren't so brash, now. "nothin'," said bill. "who you got here? what's the rumpus?" he insisted. "they've taken us prisoners and are keeping us, and they've got our burros and flags and a message," spoke up the general. he was a small man with a black mustache and blackish whiskers growing. he rode a bay horse with a k cross on its right shoulder, and the saddle had brass-bound stirrups. he wore a black slouch hat and was in black shirt-sleeves, and ordinary pants and shoes. "what message?" he asked. "a message we were carrying." "where?" "across from our town to green valley." "why?" "just for fun." "aw, that's a lie. they were to get twenty-five dollars for doing it on time. now we cash it in ourselves," spoke bill. "it was a race, and they don't make good. see?" that was a lie, sure. we weren't to be paid a cent--and we didn't want to be paid. "who's got the message now?" asked the man. "he has," said the general, pointing at bill. "let's see it." bill backed away. "i ain't, either," he said. which was another lie. "let's see it," repeated the man. "i might like to make that twenty-five dollars myself." now bill was sorry he had told that first lie. the first is the one that gives the most trouble. "who are you?" he said, scared, and backing away some more. "never you mind who i am," answered the man--biting his words off short; and he rode right for bill. he stuck his face forward. it was hard and dark and mean. "hand--over--that--message. savvy?" bill was nothing but a big bluff and a coward. you would have known that he was a coward, by the lies he had told and by the way he had attacked us. he wilted right down. "aw, i was just fooling," he said. "i was going to give it back to 'em. here 'tis. there ain't no prize offered, anyhow." and he handed it to the man. the man turned it over in his fingers. we watched. we hoped he'd make them untie us and he'd pass it to us and tell us to skip. but after he had turned it over and over, he smiled, kind of grimly, and stuck it in his hip pocket. "i reckon i'd like to make that twenty-five dollars myself," he said. and then he rode to one side, and dismounted; he loosened the cinches and made ready as if to camp. and they all let him. now, that was bad for us, again. the gang had our flags and our burros, and he had our message. "that's our message. we're carrying it through just for fun and for practice," called the general. "it's no good to anybody except us." "bueno," said the man--which is mexican or spanish for "good." he was squatting and building a little fire. "aren't you going to give it to us and make them let us go?" he grunted. "don't bother me. i'm busy." that was all we could get out of him. now it was growing dark and cold. the gang was grumbling and accusing bill of being "bluffed" and all that, but they didn't make any effort to attack the man. they all were afraid of him; they didn't have nerve. they just grumbled and talked of what bill ought to have done, and proceeded to cook supper and to loaf around. our hands were behind our backs and we were tied like dogs to trees. and suddenly, while watching the man, i noticed that he was doing things left-handed, and quick as a wink i saw that the sole of his left shoe was worn through! and if he wasn't riding a roan horse, he was riding a saddle with brass-bound stirrups, anyway. a man may trade horses, but he keeps to his own saddle. this was the beaver man! we three scouts exchanged signs of warning. "you aren't going to tie us for all night, are you?" demanded fitzpatrick. "sure," said bill. "we'll give you our parole not to try to escape," offered general ashley. "what's that?" "we'll promise," i explained. then they all jeered. "aw, promise!" they laughed. "we know all about your promises." "scouts don't break their promises," answered the general, hot. "when we give our parole we mean it. and if we decided to try to escape we'd tell you and take the parole back. we want to be untied so we can eat." "all right. we'll untie you," said bill; and i saw him wink at the other fellows. they did. they loosened our hands--but they put ropes on our feet! we could just walk, and that is all. and walt (he and bat were cooking) poked the fire with our flagstaff. then he sat on the flags! i tell you, we were angry! "this doesn't count," sputtered the general, red as fury. "you gave us your parole if we'd untie you," jeered bill. "and we did." "but you tied us up again." "we didn't say anything about that. you said if we'd untie you, so you could eat, you wouldn't run away. well, we untied you, didn't we?" "that isn't fair. you know what we meant," retorted fitz. "we know what you said," they laughed. "aw, cut it out," growled the man, from his own fire. "you make too much noise. i'm tired." "chuck," called walt, for supper. they stuck us between them, and we all ate. whew, but it was a dirty camp. the dishes weren't clean and the stuff to eat was messy, and the fellows all swore and talked as bad as they could. it was a shame--and it seemed a bigger shame because here in the park everything was intended to be quiet and neat and ought to make you feel _good_. after supper they quarreled as to who would wash the dishes, and finally one washed and one wiped, and the rest lay around and smoked pipes and cigarettes. over at his side of the little park the man had rolled up and was still. but i knew that he was watching, because he was smoking, too. we couldn't do anything, even if we had planned to. we might have untied the ropes on our feet, but the gang sat close about us. then, they had the flags and the burros, and the man had the message; and if they had been wise they would have known that we wouldn't go far. of course, we might have hung about and bothered them. they made each of us sleep with one of them. they had some dirty old quilts, and we all rolled up. chapter viii a new use for a camera we were stiff when we woke in the morning, but we had to lie until the rest of them decided to get up, and then it was hot and late. that was a lazy camp as well as a dirty one. the early morning is the best part of the day, out in the woods, but lots of fellows don't seem to think so. i had slept with bat, and he had snored 'most all night. now as soon as i could raise my head from the old quilts i looked over to see the man. he wasn't there. his horse wasn't there and his fire wasn't burning. the spot where he had camped was vacant. he had gone, with our message! i wriggled loose from bat and woke him, and he swore and tried to make me lie still, but i wouldn't. not much! "red!" i called, not caring whether i woke anybody else or not. "red! general!" i used both names--and i didn't care for that, either. he wriggled, too, to sit up. "what?" "the man's gone. he isn't there. he's gone with the message!" the general exclaimed, and worked to jerk loose from bill; and fitz's head bobbed up. there wasn't any more sleep for that camp, now. "oh, shut up!" growled bill. "you fellows turn us loose," we ordered. "we've got to go. we've got to follow that man." but they wouldn't, of course. they just laughed, and said: "no, you don't want to go. you've given us your parole; see?" and they pulled us down into the quilts again, and yawned and would sleep some more, until they found it was no use, and first one and then another kicked off the covers and sat up, too. the sun was high and all the birds and bees and squirrels were busy for the day. at least two hours had been wasted, already. half of the fellows didn't wash at all, and all we scouts were allowed to do was to wash our faces, with a lick and a promise, at the creek, under guard. we missed our morning cold wet rub. the camp hadn't been policed, and seemed dirtier than ever. tin cans were scattered about, and pieces of bacon and of other stuff, and there was nothing sanitary or regular. our flags were dusty and wrinkled; and that hurt. the only thing homelike was apache and sally, our burros, grazing on weeds and grass near the camp. but they didn't notice us particularly. we didn't have anything more to say. the fellows began to smoke cigarettes and pipes as soon as they were up, and made the fire and cooked some bacon and fried some potatoes, and we all ate, with the flies buzzing around. a dirty camp attracts flies, and the flies stepped in all sorts of stuff and then stepped in our food and on us, too. whew! ugh! we would have liked to make a smoke signal, to let major henry and jed smith and kit carson know where we were, but there seemed no way. they would be starting out after us, according to instructions, and we didn't want them to be captured. we knew that they would be coming, because they were scouts and scouts obey orders. they can be depended upon. i guess it was ten o'clock before we were through the messy breakfast, and then most of the gang went off fishing and fooling around. "aren't you going to untie our feet?" asked the general. "do you give us your promise not to skip?" answered bill. "we'll give our parole till twelve o'clock." we knew what the general was planning. by twelve o'clock something might happen--the other scouts might be near, then, and we wanted to be free to help them.-"will you give us your parole if we tie your feet, loose, instead of your hands?" "yes," said the general; and fitzpatrick and i nodded. jiminy, we didn't want our hands tied, on this hot day. so they hobbled our feet, and tethered us to a tree. they tied the knots tight--knot after knot; and then they went off laughing, but they left walt and bat to watch us! that wasn't fair. it broke our parole for us, really, for they hadn't accepted it under the conditions we had offered it. (note 36.) "don't you fellows get to monkeying, now," warned bat, "or we'll tie you tighter. if you skip we've got your burros and your flags." that was so. "we know that," replied the general, meekly; but i could see that he was boiling, inside. it was awful stupid, just sitting, with those two fellows watching. bat wore his big revolver, and walt had his shotgun. they smoked their bad-smelling pipes, and played with an old deck of cards. camping doesn't seem to amount to much with some fellows, except as a place to be dirty in and to smoke and play cards. they might as well be in town. "shall we escape?" i signed to the general. (note 37.) "no," he signed back. "wait till twelve o'clock." he was going to keep our word, even if we did have a right to break it. "hand me my camera, will you, please?" asked fitz, politely. "what do you want of it?" demanded walt. "i want to use it. we haven't anything else to do." "sure," said walt; he tossed it over. "take pictures of yourselves, and show folks how you smart scouts were fooled." i didn't see what fitz could use his camera on, here. and he didn't seem to be using it. he kept it beside him, was all. there weren't any animals around this kind of a camp. but the general and i didn't ask him any questions. he was wise, was old fitzpatrick the bad hand, and probably he had some scheme up his sleeve. we just sat. the two fellows played cards and smoked and talked rough and loud, and wasted their time this way. the sun was mighty hot, and they yawned and yawned. tobacco smoking so much made them stupid. but we yawned, too. the general made the sleep sign to fitz and me, and we nodded. the general and i stretched out and were quiet. i really was sleepy; we had had a hard night. "you fellows going to sleep?" asked walt. we grunted at him. "then we'll tie your hands and we'll go to sleep," he said. "come on, bat. maybe it's a put-up job." "no, sir; that wasn't in the bargain," objected the general. "aw, we got your parole till twelve o'clock, but we're going to tie you anyway," replied that walt. "we didn't say how long we'd leave your hands loose. we aren't going to sit around and keep awake, watching you guys. when we wake up we untie you again." we couldn't do anything; and they tied the general's hands and my hands, but fitzpatrick begged off. "i want to use my camera," he claimed. "and i've got only one hand anyway. i can't untie knots with one hand." they didn't know how clever fitz was; so they just moved him and fastened him by the waist to a tree where he couldn't reach us. "we'll be watching and listening," they warned. "and if you try any foolishness you'll get hurt." they stretched out, and pretended to snooze. i didn't see, myself, how fitz could untie those hard knots with his one hand, in time to do any good. they were hard knots, drawn tight, and the rope was a clothes-line; and he was set against a tree with the rope about his body and the knots behind him on the other side of the tree. i didn't believe that bat and walt would sleep hard; but while i waited to see what would happen next, i dozed off, myself. something tapped me on the head, and i woke up in a jiffy. fitz must have tossed a twig at me, because when i looked over at him he made the silence sign. he was busy; and what do you think? he had taken his camera apart, and unscrewed the lenses, and had focused on the rope about him. he had wriggled so that the sun shone on the lenses, and a little spire of smoke was rising from him. bat and walt were asleep; they never made a move, but they both snored. and fitz was burning his rope in two, on his body. it didn't take very long, because the sun was so hot and the lenses were strong. the rope charred and fumed, and he snapped it; and then he began on his feet. good old fitz! if only he got loose before those two fellows woke. the general was watching him, too. walt grunted and rolled over and bleared around, and fitz quit instantly, and sat still as if tied and fooling with his camera. walt thought that everything was all right and rolled over; and after a moment fitz continued. pretty soon he was through. and now came the most ticklish time of all. he waited and made a false move or two, to be certain that walt and bat weren't shamming; and then he snapped the rope about his body and gradually unwound it and then he snapped the rope that bound together his feet. now he began to crawl for the two fellows. inch by inch he moved along, like an indian; and he never made a sound. that was good scouting for anybody, and especially for a one-armed boy, i tell you! the general and i scarcely breathed. my heart thumped so that i was afraid it would shake the ground. when he got near enough, fitz reached cautiously, and pulled away the shotgun. like lightning he opened the breech and shook loose the shell and kicked it out of the way--and when he closed the breech with a jerk bat woke up. "you keep quiet," snapped fitz. his eyes were blazing. "if either of you makes a fuss, i'll pull the trigger." he had the gun aiming straight at them both. walt woke, too, and was trying to discover what happened. "be quiet, now!" those two fellows were frightened stiff. the gun looked ugly, with its round muzzle leveled at their stomachs, and fitz behind, his cheeks red and his eyes angry and steady. but it was funny, too; he might have pulled trigger, but nothing would have happened, because the gun wasn't loaded. of course none of us scouts would have shot anybody and had blood on our hands. fitz had thrown away the shell on purpose so that there wouldn't be any accident. it's bad to point a gun, whether loaded or not, at any one. this was a have-to case. bat and walt didn't know. they were white as sheets, and lay rigid. "don't you shoot. look out! that gun might go off," they pleaded; we could hear their teeth chatter. "if you won't point it at us we'll do anything you say." "you bet you'll do anything i say," snapped fitz, very savage. "you had us, and now we have you! unbuckle that belt, you bat. don't you touch the revolver, though. i'm mad and i mean business." bat's fingers trembled and he fussed at the belt and unbuckled it, and off came belt and revolver, and all. "toss 'em over." he tossed them. fitz put his foot on them. "aw, what do you let that one-armed kid bluff you for?" began walt; and fitz caught him up as quick as a wink. "what are _you_ talking about?" he asked. "i'll give you a job, too. you take your knife and help cut those two scouts loose." "ain't got a knife," grumbled walt. "yes, you have. i've seen it. will you, or do you want me to pull trigger?" "you wouldn't dare." "wouldn't i? you watch this finger." "look out, walt!" begged bat. "he will! i know he will! see his finger? he might do it by accident. quit, fitz. we'll cut 'em." "don't get up. just roll," ordered fitz. they rolled. he kept the muzzle right on them. walt cut me free (his hands were shaking as bad as bat's), and bat cut the general free. we stood up. but there wasn't time for congratulations, or anything like that. no. we must skip. "quick!" bade fitz. "tie their feet. my rope will do; it was a long one." "how'd _you_ get loose?" snarled walt. "none of your business," retorted fitz. we pulled on the knots hard--and they weren't any granny knots, either, that would work loose. we tied their feet, and then with a bowline noose tied their elbows behind their backs--which was quicker than tying their wrists. (note 38.) fitz dropped the shotgun and grabbed his camera. "you gave your parole," whined bat. "it's after twelve," answered the general. and then walt uttered a tremendous yell--and there was an answering whoop near at hand. the rest of the gang were coming back. "run!" ordered the general. "meet at the old camp." we ran, and scattered. we didn't stop for the burros, or anything more, except that as i passed i grabbed up the bow and arrows and with one jerk i ripped our flags loose from the pole, where it was lying. this delayed me for a second. walt and bat were yelling the alarm, and feet were hurrying and voices were answering. i caught a glimpse of the general and fitz plunging into brush at one side, and i made for another point. "there they go! stop 'em!" were calling walt and bat. tony matthews was coming so fast that he almost dived into me; but i dodged him and away i went, into the timber and the brush, with him pelting after. now all the timber was full of cries and threats, and "bang! bang!" sounded a gun. but i didn't stop to look around. i scudded, with tony thumping behind me. "you halt!" ordered tony. "head him off!" he called. i dodged again, around a cedar, and ran in a new direction, up a slope, through grass and just a sprinkling of trees. now was the time to prove what a scout's training was good for, in giving him lungs and legs and endurance. so i ran at a springy lope, up-hill, as a rabbit does. two voices were panting at me; i saved my breath for something better than talk. the puffing grew fainter, and finally when i couldn't hear it, or any other sound near, i did halt and look around. the pursuit was still going on behind and below, near where the gang's camp was. i could hear the shouts, and "bang! bang!" but shouts and shooting wouldn't capture the general and fitz, i knew. tony and the other fellow who had been chasing me had quit--and now i saw the general and fitz. they must have had to double and dodge, because they had not got so far away: but here they came, out from the trees, into an open space, across from me, and they were running strong and swift for the slope beyond. if it was a case of speed and wind, none of that smoking, flabby crowd could catch them. fitz was ahead, the general was about ten feet behind, and much farther behind streamed the gang, bill delaney leading and the rest lumbering after. tony and the other fellow had flopped down, and never stirred to help. they were done for. it was quite exciting, to watch; and as the general and fitz were drawing right away and escaping, i wanted to cheer. they turned sharp to make straight up-hill--and then the general fell. he must have slipped. he picked himself up almost before he had touched the ground and plunged on, but down he toppled, like a wounded deer. fitzpatrick, who was climbing fast off at one side, saw. "hurt?" i heard him call. "no," answered the general. "go on." but fitz didn't keep on. he turned and came right to him, although the enemy was drawing close. the general staggered up, and sat down again. i knew what was being said, now, although i couldn't hear anything except the jeers of the gang as they increased speed. the general was hurt, and he was telling fitz to go and save himself, and fitz wouldn't. he sat there, too, and waited. then, just as the gang closed in, and bill delaney reached to grab fitz, the general saw me and made me the sign to go on, and the sign of a horse and rider. yes, that was my part, now. i was the one who must follow the beaver man, who had taken our message. the message was the most important thing. we must get that through no matter what happened. and while fitz and the general could help each other, inside, i could be trailing the message, and maybe finding henry and carson and smith, outside. so i started on. the enemy was leading the general, who could just hobble, and fitz, back to the camp. loyal old fitzpatrick the bad hand, who had helped his comrade instead of saving himself! chapter ix jim bridger on the trail i turned, and climbed the hill. it was a long hill, and hot, but i wanted to get up where i could see. the top was grassy and bare, and here i stopped, to find out where things were. off in one direction (which was southwest, by the sun) rose pilot peak, rocky and snowy, with the main range stretching on either side of it. but between pilot peak and me there lay a big country of heavy timber. yes, in every direction was heavy timber. i had run without thinking, and now it was pretty hard to tell exactly where i was. i stood for a minute and tried to figure in what direction that beaver man probably had ridden. he had come in on our left, as we sat, and had probably gone along toward our right. i tried to remember which way the shadows had fallen, in the sunset, and which way west had been, from our right or left as we were sitting. finally i was quite certain that the shadows had fallen sort of quartering, from right to left, and so the man probably had made toward the west. it was a good thing that i had noticed the shadows, but to notice little things is a scout's training. i stuffed the flags inside my shirt, and tied my coat about me; only one arrow was left, out of six; the five others must have fallen when i was running. and i was hungry and didn't have a thing to eat, because when the gang had captured us they had taken our bread and chocolate, along with our match-boxes and knives and other stuff. that was mean of them. but with a look about for smoke signals i took my bow and started across the top of the hill. it was to be the lone trail and the hungry trail for jim bridger. but he had slept on post, and he was paying for it. now if he (that was i, you know) only could get back that message, and thus make good, he wouldn't mind lonesomeness or hunger or thirst or tiredness or wet or anything. i wasn't afraid of the gang overtaking me or finding me, if i kept my wits about me. and after i was over the brow of the hill i swung into the west, at scouts' pace of trot and walk mixed. this took me along the top of the hill, to a draw or little valley that cut through. the draw was thick with spruces and pines and was brushy at the bottom, so i went around the head of it. that was easier than climbing down and up again--and the draw would have been a bad place to be cornered in. i watched out for trails, but i did not cross a thing, and i began to edge down to strike that stream which passed the gang's camp. often trails follow along streams, where the cattle and horses travel. the man who had our message might have used this trail but although i edged and edged, keeping right according to the sun, i didn't strike that stream. up and down and up again, through the trees and through the open places i toiled and sweated; and every time i came out upon a ridge, expecting to be at the top of somewhere, another ridge waited; and every time i reached the bottom of a draw or gulch, expecting that here was my stream or a trail, or both, i found that i was fooled again. this up and down country covered by timber is a mighty easy country to be lost in. i wasn't lost--the stream was lost. no, i wasn't lost; but when i came out upon a rocky ridge, and climbed to the top of a bunch of granite there, the world was all turned around. pilot peak had changed shape and was behind me when it ought to have been before. west was west, because the sun was setting in it, but it seemed queer. you see, i had been zigzagging about to make easy climbs out of draws and gulches, and to dodge rocks and brush--and here i was. (note 39.) you may believe that now i was mighty hungry and thirsty, and i was tired, too. this was a fine place to see from, and i sat on a ledge and looked about, mapping the country. that was pilot peak, away off on the left; and that was the medicine range, on either side of it. it was the range that we scouts must cross, if ever we got to it. but between me and the range lay miles of rolling timber, and all about below me lay the timber, with here and there bare rocky points sticking up like the tips of breakers in an ocean and here and there little winding valleys, like the oily streaks in the ocean. away off in one valley seemed to be a cleared field where grain had been cut; but no ranch house was there. it was just a patch. in all this big country i was the only inhabitant--i and the wild things. well, i must camp for the night. the sun was setting behind the mountains. if i tried traveling blind by night i might get all tangled up in the timber and brush and be in a bad fix. up here it was dry and open and the rocks would shelter me from the wind. i tried to be calm and reasonable and use scout sense; and i decided to stay right where i was, till morning. but jiminy, i was hungry and thirsty, and i wanted a fire, too. this was pretty good experience, to be lost without food or drink or matches, or even a knife--it was pretty good experience if i managed right. there were plenty of dead dried branches scattered here among the rocks, and pack-rats had made a nest of firewood. but first, as seemed to me, i must get a drink and something for supper. i had only that one arrow to depend on, for game, and if i waited much longer then i might lose it in the dusk. not an easy shot had shown itself, either, during all the time i had been traveling. water was liable to be down there somewhere, in those valleys, and i looked to see which was the greenest or which had any willows. to the greenest it seemed a long way. then i had a clue. i saw a flock of grouse. they sailed out from the timber and across and slanted down into a gulch. more followed. they acted as if they were bound somewhere on purpose, and i remembered that grouse usually drink before they go to bed. these were so far away, below me, that i couldn't make out whether they were sage grouse, or the blue grouse, or the fool grouse. if they were sage grouse, i might not get near enough to them to shoot sure with my one arrow. if they were blue grouse, that would be bad, too, for blue grouse are sharp. if they were fool grouse, i ought to get one. i marked exactly where they sailed for, and down i went, keeping my eye on the spot. now i must use scoutcraft for water and food. if i couldn't manage a fire, i could chew meat raw. yes, i remembered that it was against the law to kill grouse, yet. i thought about it a minute; and decided that the law did not intend that a starving person should not kill just enough for meat when he had nothing else. i was willing to tell the first ranger or game warden, and pay a fine--but i must eat. and i hoped that what i was trying to do was all right. motives count, in law, don't they? down i went, as fast as i could go. the sun was just sinking out of sight. it was the lonesome time of day for a fellow without fire or food or shelter, in the places where nobody lived, and i wouldn't have objected much if i'd been home at the supper table. i reached the bottom of the hill. it ended at the edge of some aspens. their white trunks were ghostly in the twilight. across through the aspens i hurried, straight as i could go; and i came out into a grassy, boggy place--a basin where water from the hills around was seeping! hurrah! it was a regular spring, and the water ran trickling away, down through a gulch. grasses grew high: wild timothy and wild oats and gama grass, mingled with flowers. along the trickle were willows, too. with the aspens and the willows and the seed grasses and the water this was a fine place for grouse. i looked for sign, on the edge of the wetness, and i saw where birds had been scratching and taking dust baths, in a patch of sage. stepping slowly, and keeping sharp lookout, i reconnoitered about the place; i was so excited that i didn't stop to drink. and suddenly--whirr-rr-rr! with a tremendous noise up flew two grouse, and three more, and lit in the willows right before me. i guess i was nervous, i wanted them so bad; for i jumped back and stumbled and fell, and broke the arrow square in two with my knee. that made me sick. here was my supper waiting for me, and i had spoiled my chances. i wanted to cry. those acted like fool grouse. they sat with their heads and necks stretched, watching me and everything else. i picked up the two pieces of my arrow; and then i looked about for a straight reed or willow twig that might do. something rustled right before me, and there was another grouse! it had been sitting near enough to bite me and i hadn't seen it. by the feathers i knew it was a fool grouse. was it going to fly, or not? i stood perfectly still, and then i squatted gradually and gave it time. after it had waggled its head around, it moved a little and began to peck and cackle; and i could hear other cackles answering. if i only could creep near enough to hit it with a stick. i reached a dead willow stick, and squatting as i was i hitched forward, inch by inch. whenever the grouse raised its silly head i scarcely breathed. the grass was clumpy, and once behind a clump i wriggled forward faster. with the clump between me and the grouse i approached as close as i dared. the grouse was only four or five feet away. it must be now or never, for when once the grouse began to fly for their night's roost mine would go, too. fool grouse you can knock off of limbs with a stone, or with a club when they are low enough and when they happen to be feeling in the mood to be knocked. behind my clump i braced my toes, and out i sprang and swiped hard, but the grouse fluttered up, just the same, squawking. i hit again, hard and quick, and struck it down, and i pounced on it and had it! yes, sir, i had it! all around me grouse were flying and whirring off, and those in the tree joined them; but i didn't care now. i lay on my stomach and took a long drink of water, and back i hustled for camp. down here the dark had gathered; but up on the hill the light stayed, and of course the top of the hill, where my camp was, would be light longest. now if i only could manage a fire. i had an idea--a good scout idea. first i picked out a place for the night. in one spot the faces of two rocks met at an angle. the grass here was dead and softish, and the wind blowing off the snowy range on the west didn't get in. i gathered a bunch of the grass, and tore my handkerchief with my teeth and mixed some ravelings of that in and tied a nest, with a handle to it. then i got some of the dry twigs lying about, and had them ready. then i found a piece of flinty rock--i think it was quartzite; and i took off a shoe and struck the rock on the hob nails, over the nest of grass. it worked! the sparks flew and landed in the loose knot, and i blew to start them. after i had been trying, i saw a little smoke, and smelled it; and so i grabbed the nest by its handle and swung it. it caught fire, and in a jiffy i had it on the ground, with twigs across it--and i was fixed. a fire makes a big difference. i wasn't lonesome any more. this camp was home. (note 40.) i was so hungry that i didn't more than half cook the grouse by holding pieces on a stick over the blaze, trapper style. while i gnawed i went out around the rocks and watched the sunset. it was glorious, and the pink and gold lasted, with the snowy range and old pilot peak showing sharp and cold against it. up here i was right in the twilight, while below the timber and the valleys were dark. i must collect wood while i could see, beginning with the pieces furthest away. down at the bottom of the hill i had marked a big branch; and out i hiked and hauled it up. that camp looked grand when i came in again; the bottom of the hill was gloomy, but here i had a fire. the sunset was done; everything was dark; the stars were shining all through the sky; from the timber below queer cries and calls floated up to me, but there was nothing to be afraid of. i was minding my business, and animals would be minding theirs. so i moved the fire forward a little from the angle of the rocks, and sat in the angle myself. wow, but it was warm and nice! i couldn't make a big fire, because i didn't want to run out of fuel; but the little fire was better, as long as it was large enough to be cheerful and to warm me. i spliced my broken arrow with string. this was real scout coziness. of course, i sort of wished that fitz or little jed smith or somebody else was there, for company; but i'd done pretty well. i tried to study the stars--but as i sat i kept nodding and dozing off, and waking with a jerk, and so i pulled the thick part of the branch across the fire and shoved in the scattered ends. then i wrapped the flags about my neck and over my head, and sitting flat with my back against the rock i went to sleep. indians say that they keep warm best by covering their shoulders and head, even if they can't cover their legs. something woke me with a start. i lay shivering and listening. the fire flickered low, the sky was close above me, darkness was around about, and behind me was a rustle, rustle, patter, patter. at first i was silly and frightened; but with a jump i quit that and ordered, loud: "get out of there!" wild animals are especially afraid of the human voice; and whatever this was it scampered away. then i decided that it was only a pack-rat. anyhow, there would be nothing out here in these hills to attack a human being while he slept. even the smell of a human being will keep most animals off. they're suspicious of him. and i thought of the hundreds of old-time trappers and hunters, and of the prospectors and ranchers and range-riders, who had slept right out in the timber, in a blanket, and who never had been molested at all. so i didn't reckon that anything was going to climb this hill to get _me_! i stirred about and built the fire, and got warm. the guardians of the pole had moved around a quarter of the clock, at least, and the moon was away over in the west, so i knew that i must have slept quite a while. (note 41.) the night was very quiet. here on the hill i felt like a robinson crusoe marooned on his island. i stood and peered about; everywhere below was the dark timber; the moon was about to set behind the snowy range; overhead were the stars--thousands of them in a black sky, which curved down on all sides. the milky way was plain. the indians say that is the trail the dead warriors take to the happy hunting grounds. i could see the north star, of course, and i could see the papoose on the squaw's back, in the handle of the great dipper; so i had scout's eyesight. in the west was the evening star--jupiter, i guessed. off south was the scorpion, and the big red star antares. i wished that the lost children were dancing in the sky, but they had not come yet. (note 42.) it made me calm, to get out this way and look at the stars. i'd been lucky, so far, to have fire and supper and a good camp, and i decided that i would get that message--or help get it. somewhere down in that world of timber were major henry and kit carson and little jed smith, on the trail; and general ashley and wise fitzpatrick the bad hand, planning to escape; and the man who had the message. and here was i, on detail that seemed to have happened, and yet seemed to have been ordered, too. and watchful and steady as the stars, above us was the great commander, who knew just how things would come out, here in the hills the same as in the cities. it's kind of comforting, when a fellow realizes that he can't get lost entirely, and that somebody knows where he is and what he is doing, and what he wants to do. in the morning i would strike off southwest, and keep going until i came to a trail where the beaver man had traveled, or until i had some sight of him or news of him. by the pointers it was midnight. so after thinking things over i fed the fire and warmed my back; then i hunched into the angle and with the two flags about my shoulders and over my head i started to snooze off. some animal kept rustling and pattering, but i let it rustle and patter. just as i was snoozing, i remembered that to-morrow--that _to-day_ was sunday! yes; i counted, and we had left town on monday and we had been out six days. i supposed that i ought to rest on sunday; but i didn't see how i could, fixed as i was; and i hoped that if i took the trail i would be understood. (note 43.) chapter x the red fox patrol when i woke up i was safe and sound, but i had thrown off the flags and i was stiff and cold. now i could see all about me--see the rocks and the grass and the ashes of the fire; so morning had come. that was good. after i had yawned and stretched and straightened out, i gave a little dance to start my circulation. then i built the fire from the coals that were left, and cooked the rest of the grouse, and had breakfast, chewing well so as to get all the nourishment that i could. i climbed on a rock, in the sun, like a ground-hog, to eat, and to look about at the same time. and i saw smoke! the smoke was lifting above the timber away off, below. this was a fine morning; a sunday morning, peaceful and calm, and the smoke rose in a little curl, as if it were from a camp or a chimney. i took that as a good omen. down i sprang, to my own fire; and heaped on damp stuff and dirt, and using my coat made the private smoke signal of the elk patrol: one puff, three puffs, and one puff. (note 44.) but the other smoke didn't answer. then i thought of making the signal meaning "i am lost. help"; but i said to myself: "no, you don't. you're not calling for help, yet. you'd be a weak kind of a scout, to sit down and call for help. there's a sign for you. maybe that smoke is the beaver man. sic him." and trampling out my own fire, and stuffing the flags into my shirt and tying my jacket around me, lining that other fire by a dead pine at the foot of the hill, away i went. when i got to the dead pine i drew another bee-line ahead as far as i could see, with a stump as the end, and followed that. but this was an awful rough, thick country. first i got into a mess of fallen timber, where the dead trunks were criss-crossed like jackstraws; and they were smooth and hard and slippery, and i had to climb over and crawl under and straddle and slide, and turn back several times, and i lost my bee-line. but i set my direction again by the sun on my face. next i ran into a stretch of those small black-jacks, so thick i could scarcely squeeze between. and when i came out i was hot and tired, i tell you! now i was hungry, too, and thirsty; and i found that fire meant a whole lot to me. if it didn't mean the man with the message, it meant food and somebody to talk to, perhaps. the fallen timber and the black-jack thicket had interfered with me so that i wasn't sure, any more, that i was heading straight for the fire. down into a deep gulch i must plunge, and up i toiled, on the other side. it was about time that i climbed a tree, or did something else, to locate that fire. when next i reached a ridgy spot i chose a good pine and shinned it. from the top nothing was visible except the same old sea of timber with island rocks spotting it here and there, and with pilot peak and the snowy range in the wrong quarter again. of course, by this time the breakfast smoke would have quit. that made me desperate. i shinned down so fast that a branch broke and i partly fell the rest of the way along the trunk, and tore my shirt and scraped a big patch of skin from my chest. this hurt. when i landed in a heap i wanted to bawl. but instead, i struck off along the ridge, keeping high so that if there was smoke i would see it, yet. the ridge ended in another gulch. i had begun to hate gulches. a fellow's legs grow numb when he hasn't had much to eat. but into the gulch i must go, and so down i plunged again. and when almost at the bottom i _smelled_ smoke! i stopped short, and sniffed. it was wood smoke--camp smoke. i must be near that camp-fire. and away off i could hear water running. that was toward my left, so probably the smoke was on my left, for a camp would be near water. it is hard to get direction just by smell, but i turned and scouted along the side of the gulch, halfway up, sniffing and looking. the brush was bad. it was as thick as hay and full of stickers, but i worked my way through. if the camp was the camp of the beaver man with the message, i must reconnoiter and scheme; if it was the camp of somebody else, i would go down; and if i didn't know whose camp it was, i must wait and find out. the brush held me and tripped me and tore my trousers and shirt, and was wet and hot at the same time. keeping high, i worked along listening and sniffing and spying--_feeling_ for that camp, if it was a camp. pretty soon i heard voices. that was encouraging--unless the beaver man had company. the brush thinned, and the gulch opened, and i was at the mouth of it, with the water sounding louder. on my stomach i looked out and down--and there was the place of the camp, at the mouth of the gulch, where the pines and spruces met a creek, and two boys were just leaving it. they had packs on their backs, and they were dressed in khaki and were neat and trim. down i went, sliding and leaping, head first or feet first, i didn't care which, as long as i got there in time. the boys heard and turned and stared, wondering. with my hands and face scratched, and my chest skinned and my shirt and trousers torn, bearing my bow and my broken arrow, like a wild boy i burst out upon them. then suddenly i saw on the sleeves of their khaki shirts the scout badge. my throat was too dry and my breath was too short for me to say a word, but i stopped and made the scout sign. they answered it; and they must have thought that i was worse than i really was, because they came running. "the elk patrol, colorado," i wheezed. "the red fox patrol, new jersey," they replied. "what's the matter?" "i'm glad to meet you," i said, silly after the run i had made on an empty stomach; and we laughed and shook hands hard. they were bound to hold me up or examine me for wounds or help me in some way, but i sat down of my own accord, to get my breath. they were first-class scouts of the red fox patrol of new jersey, and were traveling through this way on foot, from denver, to meet the rest of their party further on at the railroad, to do salt lake and then the yellowstone. they had had a late breakfast and a good clean-up, because this was sunday; and now they were starting on, for a walk while it was cool, before they lay by again and waited till monday morning. i had reached them just in time; i think i'd have had tough work trailing them. they looked as if they could travel some. their clothes were the regulation scouts uniform. one of them had a splendid little twenty-two rifle, and the other had a camera. the name of the boy with the rifle was edward van sant; the name of the scout with the camera was horace ward. they seemed fine fellows--as scouts usually are. i don't know how they knew that i was hungry or faint, for i didn't say that i was. but the first thing i did know van sant had unstrapped his pack, and ward had taken a little pan and had brought water from the creek. then a little alcohol stove appeared, and while we talked the water was boiling, in a jiffy. ward dropped into the water a cube, and stirred--and there was a mess of soup, all ready! they made me drink it, although i kept telling them i was all right. it tasted mighty good. they got out some first-aid dope, and washed my skinned chest with a carbolic smelling wash and shook some surgical powder over it, and put a bandage around, in great shape. then they washed my scratches and even sewed the worst of the tears in my clothes. (note 45.) by this time they knew my story. "was he a dark-complexioned man, with a small face and no whiskers or mustache?" "he was dark, but he had a mustache and fresh whiskers," i answered. "on a bay horse?" "on a bay, with a blazed forehead. why?" "a man rode by here, last evening, along the trail across the creek. he was dark-complexioned, he wore a black hat, and he rode a bay with a mark on its shoulders like this--" and ward drew in the dirt a k+. "that's a k cross," i exclaimed. and i thought it was right smart of them to notice even the brand. "he's the man, sure. he's shaved off his mustache and whiskers, but he's riding the same horse." and i jumped up. i felt strong and ready again. "which way did he go?" scout van sant pointed up the creek. "there's a trail on the other side," he said. "you'll find fresh hoof marks in it." "bueno," i said; and i extended my hand to shake with them, for i must light right out. "i'm much obliged for everything, but i've got to catch him. if you meet any of my crowd please tell 'em you saw me and i'm o. k.; and if you're ever in elk country don't fail to look us up. the lodge door is always open." "hold on," laughed scout ward. "you can't shoo us this way, unless you'd rather travel alone. what's the matter with our going, too?" "sure," said scout van sant. "but your trail lies down creek, you said." "not now. as long as you're in trouble your trail is our trail." wasn't that fine! but-"you'll miss your connections with the rest of your party," i objected. "what if we do? we're on the scout trail, now, for business,--and pleasure can wait. you couldn't handle that man alone--could you?" well, i was going to try. but they wouldn't listen. and they wouldn't let me carry anything. they slung their packs on their backs, we crossed the creek on some stones, and taking the trail on the other side we followed fast and steady, the horse's hoof-prints pointing up the creek. one shoe had a bent nail-head. the red fox scouts stepped along without asking any odds, although i was traveling light. they walked like indians. scout van sant took the lead, scout ward came next, and i closed the rear. pretty soon scout van sant dropped back, behind me, and let ward have the lead. i surmised he did this to watch how i was getting on; but i had that soup in me, and my second wind, and i didn't ask any odds, either. the hoof-prints were plain, and the trail was first rate; sometimes in the timber and sometimes in little open patches, but always close to the foaming creek. after we had traveled for about two hours, or had gone seven miles, we stopped and rested fifteen minutes and had a dish of soup. the creek branched, and one part entered a narrow, high valley, lined with much timber. the other part, which was the main part, continued more in the open. the hoofs with the bent nail-head quit, here; and as they didn't turn off to the left, into the open country, they must have crossed to take the gulch branch. an old bridge had been washed out, but the water was shallow, and scout van sant was over in about three jumps. after a minute of searching he beckoned, and we skipped over, too. a small trail followed the branch up the gulch, and the hoof-prints showed in it. now we all smelled smoke again. it seemed to me that i had been smelling it ever since that first time, but you know how a smell sometimes sticks in the nose. still, we all were smelling it, now, and we kept our eyes and ears open for other sign of a camp. the water made a big noise as it dashed down; the gulch turned and twisted, and was timbered and rocky; it grew narrower; and as we advanced with scout caution, looking ahead each time as far as we could, on rounding an angle suddenly we came out into a sunny little park, with flowers and grass and aspens and bowlders, the stream dancing through at one edge, and an old dug-out beside the stream. it was an abandoned prospect claim, because on the hill-slope were some old prospect holes and a dump. by the looks, nobody had been working these holes for a year or two; but from the chimney of the dug-out a thin smoke was floating. we instantly sat down, motionless, to reconnoiter. chapter xi the man at the dug-out we couldn't see any sign, except those hoof-marks, and that fire. nobody was stirring, the sun shone and the chipmunks scampered and the aspens quivered and the stream tinkled, and the place seemed all uninhabited by anything except nature. we grew tired of waiting. "i'll go on to that dug-out," whispered scout ward. "if the man sees me he won't know me, especially. i can find out if he's there, or who is there." that sounded good; so he dumped his pack and while scout van sant and i stayed back he walked out, up the trail. we saw him turn in at the dug-out and rap on the door. nobody came. he hung about and eyed the trail and the ground, and rapped again. "there's plenty of sign," he called to us; "and there's a loose horse over across the creek." "well, what of it?" growled a voice; and he looked, and we looked, and we saw a man sitting beside a bowlder on the little slope behind the dug-out. the man must have been watching, half hid, without moving. it was the beaver man. he had an automatic pistol in his hand. this was my business, now. so, just saying, "there he is!" i stood up and went right forward. but scout van sant followed. "i want that message," i said, as soon as i could. "what message?" he growled back, from over his gun. "that scouts' message you took from the fellow who took it from us." "oh, hello!" he grinned. "were you there? they let you go, did they?" "no; i got away to follow you. i want that message." "why, sure," he said. "if that's all you want." and he seemed relieved. "come and get it." he stuck his free hand behind him and fumbled, and then he held up the package. i started right up, but scout ward sprang ahead of me. "i'll get it. you and van stay behind," he bade. he didn't wait for us to say yes, but walked for the rock; and just as he reached it, and was stretching to take the package, the man, with a big oath, jumped for him. jumped for him, and grabbed for him, sprawling out like a black cougar. van sant and i yelled, sharp; ward dodged and tripped and went rolling; and as the man jumped for him again i shot my arrow at him. i couldn't help it, i was so mad. the arrow was crooked, where it had been mended (i really didn't try to hurt him), and maybe it _went_ crooked; but anyway it hit him in the calf of the leg and stayed there. i didn't think i had shot so hard. the man uttered a quick word, and sat down. his face was screwed and he glared about at us, with his pistol muzzle wavering and sweeping like a snake's tongue. that arrow probably hurt. it hadn't gone in very far, but it was stuck. "i'll kill one of you for that," he snarled. "no, you won't," answered scout ward, scrambling up and facing him. "if you killed one you'd have to kill all three, and then you'd be hanged anyway." "you got just what was coming to you for acting so mean," added scout van sant. "you grabbed for ward and we had to protect him." they weren't afraid, a particle, either of them; but i was the one who had shot the arrow, and all i could say was: "it isn't barbed. you can pull it out." "yes, and i'll get blood poisonin', mebbe," snarled the man. he kept us covered with his revolver muzzle. "you git!" he ordered. with his other hand he worked at the arrow and pulled it out easily. the point was red, but not very far up. "you'd better cut your trousers open, over that wound," called scout van sant. "did you have on colored underdrawers?" "none o' your business," snarled the man. "you git, all of you." "wait a minute. don't use that old handkerchief," spoke scout ward. and away he ran for the packs. they were very busy scouts, those two, and right up to snuff. the arrow wound seemed to interest them. he came back, and i saw what he had. "here," he called; "if you'll promise not to grab me i'll come and dress that in first-class shape. you're liable to have an infection, from dirt." "i'll infect _you_, if i ketch you," snarled the man, fingering his wounded leg and dividing his glances between it and us. "well, if you won't promise, i'll lay this on this rock," continued scout ward, as cool as you please. "you ought to cut the cloth away from that wound; then you dissolve this bichloride of mercury tablet in a quart of water, and flush that hole out thoroughly; then you moisten a pad of this cloth in the water and bind it on the hole with this surgical bandage. see?" (note 46.) "i'll bind you on a hole, if i ketch you," snarled the man. that hole ached, i reckon. but scout ward advanced and laid the first-aid stuff on a stone about ten feet from the man, so that he could crawl and get it. "now hadn't you better give us that message? it's no good to you, and it's done you harm enough," said scout van sant. "give you nothin', except a dose of lead, if you don't git out pronto," snarled the man. "you git! hear me? git! if you weren't kids, you'd git something else beside jes' git. but i'm not goin' to tell you many more times. git!" the red fox patrol scouts looked at me and i looked at them, and we agreed--for the man was growing angrier and angrier. there was no sense in badgering him. a fellow must use discretion, you know. "all right; we'll 'git,'" answered scout ward. "but we'll keep on your trail till you turn over that message. you've no business with it." the man just growled, and as we turned away he began to pull his trouser-leg up further and to fuss with his dirty sock and his pink underdrawers there. those were no things to have about an open wound. "you'd better use that first-aid wash and bandage," called back scout ward. we went to the packs and the red fox patrol scouts slung them on. they wouldn't let me carry one. we didn't know exactly what to do, now: whether to go on and wait, or wait here, while we watched. only-"you scouts take the trail for your rendezvous," i said. rendezvous, you know, is the place where scouts come together; and these two boys were on their way to meet the rest of their party, for salt lake and the yellowstone, when i had come in on them. "no," they said; "your trail is our trail. scouts help each other. we can meet our party somewhere later, and still be in time." scouts mean what they say, so i didn't argue, and i was mighty glad to have them along. we decided to follow the trail we were on for a little way, and then to climb the side of the gulch and make sunday camp where we could watch the man's movements. we passed the dug-out; up back of it the beaver man was tying his bandanna handkerchief around his leg! he didn't look at us, and he hadn't touched the first-aid stuff on the rock. as we hiked on, i kept noticing that smell of smoke--a piny smoke; and it did not come from the dug-out, surely. now i remembered that i had been smelling that piny smoke all day, and i laid it to the two camp-fires, but i must have been mistaken. or else there was another fire, still--or i had the smell in my nose and couldn't get it out. when you are in the habit of smelling for something, you keep thinking that it is there, all the time. a scout must watch his imagination, and not be fooled by it. we climbed the side of the gulch, through the trees; the red fox boys carried their packs right along, without resting any more than i did. they were toughened to the long trail. the sun began to be clouded and hazy. when we halted halfway up, and looked back and down, at the dug-out, the man had hobbled across from the dug-out and was leading back his horse. just then scout ward spoke up. "it is smoke!" he exclaimed, puffing and sniffing. "boys, it's a forest fire somewhere." so they had been smelling it, too. i looked at the sun. the haze clouding it was the smoke! "climb on top, so we can see," i said; and away we went. the timber was thick with spruces and pines. up we went, among them, for the top of the ridge. we came out into an open space; beyond, the ridge fell away in a long slope of the timber, for the snowy range; and old pilot peak was right before us, to the west. the sun was getting low, and was veiled by smoke drifting across it. and on the right, distant a couple of miles, up welled a great brownish-black mass from the fire itself. a forest fire, and a big one! the smell was very strong. the red fox scouts looked at me. "what ought we to do?" asked scout van sant. "maybe you know more about these forest fires than we do." maybe i did. the rockies are places for big forest fires, all right, and i'd heard the guards and rangers talk, in our town. the timber was dry as a bone, at this time of year. the smoke certainly was drifting our way. and fire travels up-hill faster than it travels down-hill. so this ridge, surrounded by the timber, was a bad spot to be caught in, especially if that fire should split and come along both sides. no timber ridge for us! "turn back and make for the creek; shall we?" proposed scout ward. that didn't sound good to me, somehow. the creek was beginning to pinch out, this high up the gulch, and a fire would jump it in a twinkling. and if anything should happen to us, down there,--one of us hurt himself, you know, in hurrying,--we should be in a trap as the fire swept across. out of the timber was the place for us. but away across, an opposite slope rose to bareness, where were just grass and rocks; and between was a long patch of aspens or willows, down in the hollow. if we couldn't make the bareness, those aspens or willows would be better than the pines and evergreens. they wouldn't burn so; and if they were willows, they might be growing in a bog. "no," i said. "let's strike across," and i explained. "but the man. wait a minute. maybe he doesn't know," said scout van sant; and away he raced, down and back for the dug-out. we followed, for of course we wouldn't let him go alone. as we ran we all shouted, and at the dug-out we shouted, looking; but all that we saw was the beaver man far off across the creek, riding through the timber. he did not glance back; he kept on, riding slowly, headed for the fire. that seemed bad. he was so angry that perhaps his judgment wasn't working right, and he didn't pay much attention to the smell of smoke. so all we could do was to race up the ridge again, get the packs, and plunge down over for sanctuary. the wind was blowing toward the fire, as if sucked in. but i knew that this would not hold the fire, because there would be another breeze, low, carrying it along. with a big fire there always is a wind, sucked in from all sides, as the hot air rises. those red fox scouts hiked well, loaded with their packs. i set the pace, in a bee-line for the willows and aspens, and i was traveling light, but they hung close behind. the altitude made them puff; they fairly wheezed as we zigzagged down, among the trees; but we must get out of this brush into the open. "will we make it?" puffed ward. "sure," i said. but i was mighty anxious. it seemed to me that the distance lengthened and lengthened and that i could feel the air getting warm in puffs. this was imagination. "look!" cried van sant. "what's that?" he stopped and panted and pointed. "bunch of deer!" cried ward. it was. not a bunch, exactly, but two does and three fawns, scampering through the timber below, fleeing from the fire. they were bounding over brush and over logs, their tails lifted showing the white--and next they were out of sight in a hollow. they made a pretty sight, but-"frightened by the fire, aren't they?" asked scout van sant, quietly, as we jogged on. "yes," i had to say. this looked serious. the fire might not be coming, and again it might. animals are wise. the smoke certainly was worse. the air certainly was warmer. the breeze was changing, or else we were down into another breeze. next i saw a black, shaggy creature lumbering past, before, and i pointed without stopping. they nodded. "bear?" panted ward. i nodded. the bear was getting out of the way, too. "will we make it?" again asked ward. "sure," i answered. we _had_ to. on we plowed. we were almost at the bottom of the slope and we ought to be reaching those willows and aspens. the brush was not so bad, now; but the brush does not figure much in a forest fire when the flames leap from tree-top to tree-top and make a crown fire. that is the worst of all. this was hot enough to be a crown fire, if a breeze helped it. we saw lots of animals--rabbits and squirrels and porcupines and more deer, and the birds were calling and fluttering. the smoke rasped our throats; the air was thick with it and with the smell of burning pine. and how we sweat. then, hurrah! we were into the aspens. i tell you, their white trunks and their green leaves looked good to me; but ahead of us was that other slope to climb, before we were into the bareness. "shall we go on?" asked scout van sant. he coughed; we all coughed, as we wheezed. that had been a hard hike. the air was hot, we could _feel_ the fire as the wind came in strong puffs; everywhere animals were running and flying, and the aspens were full of wild things, panicky. we had to decide quickly, for the fire was much closer. "are you good for another pull?" i asked. they grinned, out of streaming faces and white lips. "we'll make it if you can." but i didn't believe that we could. up i went into an aspen, to reconnoiter. "be looking for wetness, or willows," i called down. they dropped their packs and scurried. chapter xii foiling the fire i don't know what a record i made in climbing that tree--an aspen's bark is slick--but in a jiffy i was at the top and could peer out. (note 47.) all the sky was smoke, veiling the upper end of the valley and of the ridge. the ridge must be afire; the fire was spreading along our side; and if we tried for the opposite slope and the bare spot we might be caught halfway! something whisked through the trees under me. it was a coyote. and as i slid down like lightning, thinking hard as to what we must do and do at once, i heard a calling and van sant and ward came rushing back. "we've found a place!" they cried huskily. "a boggy place, with willows. let's get in it." we grabbed the packs. i carried one, at last. scout ward led straight for the place. willows began to appear, clustering thick. that was a good sign. the ground grew wet and soft, and slushed about our feet. i tell you, it felt fine! "will it do?" gasped scout ward, back. "great!" i said. "it's occupied, but i guess we can squeeze in," added van sant. and sure enough. animals had got here first; all kinds--coyotes, rabbits, squirrels, skunks, porcupines, a big gray wolf, and a brown bear, and one or two things whose names i didn't know. but we didn't care. we forced right in, to the very middle; nothing paid much attention to us, except to step aside and give us room. of course the coyotes snarled and so did the wolf; but the bear simply lay panting, he was so fat. and we lay panting, too. we weren't any too soon. the air was gusty hot and gusty coolish, and the smoke came driving down. we dug holes, so that the water would collect, and so that we could dash it over each other if necessary. i could reach with my hand and pet a rabbit, but i didn't. nothing bothered anything else. even the coyotes and the wolf let the rabbits alone. this was a sanctuary. there was a tremendous crashing, and a big doe elk bolted into the midst of us. she was thin and quivery, and her tongue was hanging out and her eyes staring. but she didn't stay; with another great bound she was off, outrunning the fire. she probably knew where she was going. we others lay around, flat, waiting. "wish we were on her back," gasped van sant. "we're all right," i said. "think so?" "sure," i answered. they were game, those red fox scouts. they never whimpered. we had done the best we could, and after you've done the best you can there is nothing left except to take what comes. and take it without kicking. as for me, i was full of thought. i never had been in a forest fire, before, but it seemed to me our chances were good. only, i wondered about general ashley and fitzpatrick, in the hands of that careless gang; and about major henry and jed smith and kit carson, and about the beaver man with the wounded leg. he'd have the hardest time of all. now the smoke was so heavy and sharp that we coughed and choked. the air was scorching. we could hear a great crackling and snapping and the breeze withered the leaves about us. we burrowed. the animals around us cringed and burrowed. the fire was upon us--and a forest fire in the evergreen country is terrible. there was a constant dull roar; our willows swayed and writhed; the rabbit crept right against me and lay shivering, and the coyotes whimpered. i flattened myself, and so did the red fox scouts; and with my face in the ooze i tried to find cool air. the roaring was steady; and the crackling and snapping was worse than any fourth of july. sparks came whisking down through the willows and sizzled in the wetness. one lit on a coyote and i smelled burning hair; and then one lit on me and i had to turn over and wallow on my back to put it out. "ouch!" exclaimed van sant; and one must have lit on him, too. but that was not bad. if we could stand the heat, and not swallow it and burn our lungs, we needn't mind the sparks; and maybe in ten or fifteen minutes the worst would be over, when the branches and the brush had burned. of course the first few moments were the ticklish ones. we didn't know what might happen. but we never said a word. like the animals we just waited, and hoped for the best. when i found that we weren't being burned, and that the roaring and the crackling weren't harming us, i lifted my head. i sat up; and the red fox scouts sat up, cautiously. we were still all right. the air was smoky, but the _fire_ hadn't got at us--and now it probably wouldn't. but this was not at all like sunday! the red fox scouts were pale, under their mud; and so was i, i suppose. i felt pale, and i felt weak and shaky--and i felt thankful. that had been a mighty narrow escape for us. if we had not found the willows and the wet, we would have died, it seemed to me. "how about it?" asked scout ward, huskily, and his voice trembled, but i didn't blame him for that. "it's gone past, hasn't it?" "yes," said i. and-"we're still here," said scout van sant. "well," said ward, soberly--and smiling, too, with cracked lips, "i know how i feel, and i guess you fellows feel the same way. god was good to us, and i want to thank him." and we kept silent a moment, and did. the roaring had about quit and the crackling was not nearly so bad. the air was not fiery hot, any more; it was merely warm. the attack had passed, and we were safe. the rabbit beside me hopped a few feet and squatted again, and the fat bear sat up and blinked about him with his piggish eyes. it seemed to me that the animals were growing uneasy and that perhaps the truce was over with. in that case, unpleasant things were likely to happen, so we had better move out. "shall we try it?" asked van sant. we picked up the packs and sticking close together moved on--dodging another gray wolf and a coyote, and an animal that looked like a carcajou or wolverine, which snarled at us and wouldn't budge. of course, it was a little doubtful whether we could travel through burned timber so soon after the fire had swept it. the ground would be thick with coals and hot ashes, and trees would still be blazing. but when we came out at the opposite edge of the willows and could see through the aspens, the timber beyond did not look bad, after all. there were a few burned places, but the fire had skirted the aspens on this side only in spots, where cinders had lodged. so if we had kept going instead of having stopped in the willows we might have reached the place beyond all right; but it would have been taking an awful risk, and we decided that we had done the correct thing. smoke still hung heavy and the smell of burning pine was strong, as we threaded our way among the hot spots, making for the ridge beyond. that bare place would be a good lookout, and we rather hankered for it, anyway. we had crossed the valley, and as we climbed the slope we could look back. the fire had covered both sides of the first ridge, and the top, and if we had stayed there we would have been goners, sure, the way matters turned out. it was a dismal sight, and ought to make anybody feel sorry. thousands of acres of fine timber had been killed--just wasted. "what do you suppose started it?" asked scout ward. a camp-fire, probably. lots of people, camping in the timber, either don't know anything or else are out-and-out careless, like that gang from town, or those two recruits who had not made good. and i more than half believed that the fire might have started from their camps. all of a sudden we found that we were hungry. i had been hungry before the fire, because i hadn't had much to eat for twenty-four hours; but during the fire i had forgotten about it; and now we all were hungry. however, after that fire we were nervous, in the timber, and we knew that if we camped there we wouldn't sleep. so we pushed on through, to camp on top, in the bare region, where we would be out of danger and could see around. the red fox canteens would give us water enough. we came out on the bare spot. away off to the right, along the side of the ridge, figures were moving. they were human figures, not more wild animals: two men and a pack burro. they were moving toward us, so we obliqued toward them, with our shadows cast long by the low sun. the grass was short and the footing was hard gravel, so that we could hurry; and soon i was certain that i knew who those three figures were. one was riding. the side of the ridge was cut by a deep gulch, like a canyon, with rocky walls and stream rolling through along the bottom. we halted on our edge, and the three figures came on and halted on their edge. they were general ashley and fitzpatrick the bad hand, and apache the black burro. the general was riding apache. i was glad to see them. "they're the two elk scouts who were captured," i said, to the red fox scouts; and i waved and grinned, and they waved back, and we all exchanged the scout sign. but that gorge lay between, and the water made such a noise that we couldn't exchange a word. "can they read army and navy wigwags?" asked scout ward. "sure," i said. "can you?" "pretty good," he answered. "shall i make a talk, or will you?" but i wasn't very well practiced in wigwags, yet; i was only a second-class scout. "you," i said. "do you want a flag?" but he said he'd use his hat. (note 48.) he made the "attention" signal; and fitzpatrick answered. then he went ahead, while scout van sant spelled it out for me: "r--e--d f--o--x." and fitz answered, like lightning: "e--l--k." "what shall i say?" asked scout ward of me, over his shoulder. "say we're all right, and ask them how they are." he did. scout van sant spelled the answer: "o. k. b--u--t c--a--n--t c--r--o--s--s. c--a--m--p t--i--l--l m--o--r--n--i--n--g. a--s--h h--u--r--t." when we learned that general ashley was hurt, and knew that he and fitzpatrick the bad hand were going to camp on the other side for the night, the two red fox scouts, packs and all, and i got through that gulch somehow and up and out, where they were. it would have been a shame to let a one-armed boy tend to the camp and to a wounded companion, and do everything, if we could possibly help. of course, fitz would have managed. he was that kind. he didn't ask for help. they were waiting; fitz had unpacked the burro and was making camp. general ashley was sitting with his back against a rock. he looked pale and worn. he had sprained his ankle, back there when we had all tried to escape, yesterday, and it was swollen horribly because he had had to step on it some and hadn't been able to give it the proper treatment. (note 49.) fitz looked worn, too, and of course we three others (especially i) showed travel, ourselves. after i had introduced the red fox scouts to him and fitz, then before anything else was told i must report. so i did. but i hated to say it. i saluted, and blurted it out: "i followed the beaver man and sighted him, sir, but he got away again, with the message." the general did not frown, or show that he was disappointed or vexed. he tried to smile, and he said: "did he? that surely was hard luck then, jim. where did he go?" "we were with bridger, and it seems to us that he did the best he could. the fire interrupted," put in red fox scout van sant, hesitatingly. he spoke as if he knew that he had not been asked for an opinion, but as a friend and as a first-class scout he felt as though he ought to say something. "the best is all that any scout can do," agreed the general. "go ahead, jim, and tell what happened." so i did. the general nodded. i hadn't made any excuses; i tried to tell just the plain facts, and ended with our escape in the willows, from that fire. "the report is approved," he said. "we'll get that beaver man yet. we must have that message. now fitz can tell what happened to us. but we'd better be sending up smoke signals to call in the other squad, in case they're where they can see. make the council signal, bridger." fitz had a fire almost ready; the red fox scouts helped me, and gathered smudge stuff while i proceeded to send up the council signal in the elks code. fitz talked while he worked. the general looked on and winced as his ankle throbbed. but he was busy, too, fighting pain. fitz told what had happened to them, after i had escaped. he and the general had been taken back by the gang, and tied again, and camp was broken in a hurry because the gang feared that now i would lead a rescue. they were mean enough to make the general limp along, without bandaging his foot, until he was so lame that he must be put on a horse. the camp-fire was left burning and the bacon was forgotten. they climbed a plateau and dropped into a flat, and following up very fast had curved into the timber to cross another ridge into lost park and on for the divide by way of glacier lake. that is what the general and fitz guessed. that night they all camped on the other side of the timber ridge, at the edge of lost park. they were in a hurry, still, and they made their fire in the midst of trees where they had no business to make it. they slept late, as they always did, and not having policed the camp or put out their fire, scarcely had they plunged into lost park, the next morning, when one of them looking back saw the trees afire where they had been. lost park is a mean place; the brush makes a regular jungle of it, and fire would go through it as through a hayfield. that fact and their guilty conscience made them panicky. it's a pretty serious thing, to start a forest fire. so they didn't know what to do; some wanted to go one way, and some another; the fire grew bigger and bigger, and the cattle and game trails wound and twisted and divided so that the gang were separated, in the brush, and it was every man for himself. the general was riding mike delavan's horse, and mike ordered him down and climbed on himself and made off; and the first thing the general and fitz knew they were abandoned. that is what they would have maneuvered for, from the beginning, and it would have been easy, as scouts, to work it, among those blind trails, but the general couldn't walk. perhaps it was by a mistake that they were abandoned; everybody may have thought that somebody else was tending to them, and mike didn't know what he was doing, he was so excited. but there they were. the general tried to hobble, and fitz was bound that he would carry him--good old fitz, with the one arm! the bushes were high, the smoke where the fire was mounted more and more and spread as if the park was doomed, and the crashing and shouting and swearing of the gang faded and died away in the distance. then the general and fitz heard something coming, and down the trail they were on trotted apache the burro! he must have turned back or have entered by a cross trail. whew, but they were glad to see apache! fitz grabbed him by the neck rope. he had a flat pack tied on with our rope, did apache, and fitz hoisted the general aboard, and away they hiked, with the general hanging on and his foot dangling. now that they could travel and head as they pleased, they worked right back, out of the park, and by a big circuit so as not to run into the gang they circled the fire and tried to strike the back trail somewhere so as to meet major henry and carson and smith, who might be on it. but they came out upon this plateau, and sighted us, and then we all met at the edge of the gulch. that was the report of fitzpatrick the bad hand. he and the general certainly had been through a great deal. during the story the red fox scouts and i had been making the smoke signal over and over again. "come to council," i sent up, while they helped to keep the smudge thick. "come to council," "come to council," for major henry and kit and jed, wherever they might be. but we were so interested in fitz's story, how he and the general got away from the gang and from the fire, that sometimes we omitted to scan the horizon. the general didn't, though. he is a fine scout. "there's the answer!" he said suddenly. "they've seen! the fire didn't get them. hurrah!" and "hurrah!" we cheered. chapter xiii orders from the president (the adventures of the major henry party) i am tom scott, or major andrew henry, second in command of the elk patrol scouts which set out to take that message over the range. so now i will make a report upon what happened to our detail after general ashley and fitzpatrick and bridger left, upon the trail of the two boys who had stolen our flags and burros. we waited as directed all day and all night, and as they did not come back or make any signal, in the morning we prepared to follow them. first we sent up another smoke for half an hour, and watched for an answer; but nothing happened. then we cached the camp stuff by rolling in the bedding, with the tarpaulins on the outside, what we couldn't carry, and stowing it under a red spruce. the branches came down clear to the ground, in a circle around, and when we had crawled in and had covered the bundle with other boughs and needles, it couldn't be seen unless you looked mighty close. we erased our tracks to the tree, and made two blazes, on other trees, so that our cache was in the middle of a line from blaze to blaze. then we took sights, and wrote them down on paper, so that none of us would forget how to find the place. (note 50.) we each had a blanket, rolled and slung in army style, with a string run through and tied at the ends. i carried the twenty-two rifle, and we stuffed away in our clothes what rations we could. in my blanket i carried the other of our lariat ropes. we might need it. so the time was about ten o'clock before we started. the trail was more than twenty-four hours old, but our scouts had made it plain on purpose, and we followed right along. of course, i am sixteen and kit carson is thirteen and little jed smith is only twelve, so i set my pace to theirs. a blanket roll weighs heavy after you have carried it a few miles. but we stopped only twice before we reached a sign marked in the ground: "look out!" the trail faltered, and an arrow showed which way to go, and we came to the spot where the scouts had peeped over into the draw and had seen the enemy. here another arrow pointed back, and we understood exactly what had happened. we took the new direction. the three scouts had left as plain a trail as they could by breaking branches and disturbing pebbles, and treading in single file. jed smith was awful tired, by this time, for the sun was hot and we hadn't halted to eat. but picking the trail we made the circuit around the upper end of the draw and climbed the opposite ridge. the trail was harder to read, here, among the grass and rocks. by the sun it was the middle of the afternoon, now, and we must have been on the trail five hours. we waited, and listened, and looked and smelled, feeling for danger. we must not run into any ambuscade. a little gulch, with timber, lay just ahead, and a haze of smoke floated over it. this spelled danger. it was not scouts' smoke, because scouts would not be having a fire, at this time of day, smoking so as to betray their position. when we made a smoke, we made it for a purpose. the place must be reconnoitered. we spread. i took the right, kit carson the left, and jed smith was put in the middle because he was the littlest. it would have been good if we could have left our blanket rolls, but we did not dare to. of course, if we were chased, we might have to drop them and let them be captured. we crossed a cow-path, leading into the gulch. it held burro tracks, pointing down; and it seemed to me that if there was any ambuscade down there it would be along this trail. naturally, the enemy would expect us to follow the trail. maybe the other scouts had followed it and had been surrounded. so we crossed the trail, and i signed to carson and to smith to move out across the gulch and around by the other side. we did. cedars and spruces were scattered about, and gooseberry bushes and other brush were screen enough; we swung down along the opposite side, and the smoke grew stronger. but still we could not hear a sound. we closed in, peering and listening--and then suddenly i wasn't afraid, or at least, i didn't care. through the stems of the trees was an open park, at the foot of the gulch, and if there was a camp nobody was at home, for the park was afire! "come on!" i shouted. "fire!" and down i rushed. so did carson and jed smith. we were just in time. the flames had spread from an old camp-fire and had eaten along across the grass and pine needles and were among the brush, getting a good start. already a dry stump was blazing; and in fifteen minutes more a tree somewhere would have caught. and then--whew! but we sailed into it, stamping and kicking and driving it back from the brush. "wet your blanket, jed," i ordered, "while we fight." a creek was near, luckily; jed wet his blanket, and we each in turn wet our blankets; and swiping with the rolls we smashed the line of fire right and left, and had it out in just a few minutes. now a big blackened space was left, like a blot; and the burning and our trampling about had destroyed most of the sign. but we must learn what had happened. we got busy again. we picked up the cow-path, back in the gulch, and found that the burros had followed it this far. we found where the burros had been grazing and standing, in the brush, near the burned area, and we found where horses had been standing, too! we found fish-bones, and coffee-grounds dumped from the little bag they had been boiled in, and a path had been worn to the creek. we found in the timber and brush near by other sign, but we missed the second warning sign. however, where the fire had not reached, on the edge of the park, we found several pieces of rope, cut, lying together, and in a soft spot of the turf here we found the hob-nail prints of the elk patrol! by ashes we found where the main camp-fire had been, and we found where a second smaller camp-fire had been, at the edge of the park, and prints of shoes worn through in the left sole--the shoes of the beaver man! we found a tin plate and fork, by the big camp-fire, and wrapped in a piece of canvas in a spruce was a hunk of bacon. by circling we found an out-going trail of horses and burros. we found the out-going trail of the beaver man--or of a single horse, anyway, but no shoe prints with it. but looking hard we found scout sole prints in the horse and burro trail. by this time it was growing dusk, and jed smith was sick because he had drunk too much water out of the creek, when he was tired and hot and hungry. so we decided to stay here for the night. from the signs we figured out what might have happened: according to the tracks, the burro thieves had joined with this camp. our fellows had sighted the burro thieves, back where the "look out" sign had been made, and had circuited the draw so as to keep out of sight themselves, and had taken the trail again on the ridge. they had followed along that cow-path, and had been ambushed. the cut ropes showed that they had been tied. this camp had been here for two or three days, because of the path worn to the creek and because of the coffee grounds and the fish bones and the other sign. it was a dirty camp, too, and with its unsanitary arrangements and cigarette butts and tobacco juice was such a camp as would be made by that town gang. the sign of the cut ropes looked like the town gang, too. the camp must have broken up in a hurry, and moved out quick, by the things that were forgotten. campers don't forget bacon, very often. the cut ropes would show haste, and we might have thought that the scout prisoners had escaped, if we hadn't found their sole prints with the out-going trail. these prints had been stepped on by burros, showing that the burros followed behind. what the beaver man was doing here we could not tell. so we guessed pretty near, i think. little jed smith had a splitting headache, from heat and work and water-drinking. his tongue looked all right, so i decided it was just tiredness and stomach. one of the blankets was dry; we wrapped him up and let him lie quiet, with a wet handkerchief on his eyes, and i gave him a dose of aconite, for fever. (note 51.) at this time, we know now, general ashley and thomas fitzpatrick were being hustled along one trail, captives to the gang; the beaver man was on a second trail, with our message; and jim bridger was on his lone scout in another direction, and just about to make a camp-fire with his hob-nails and a flint. the dusk was deepening, and kit carson and i went ahead settling camp for the night. we built a fire, and spread the blankets, and were making tea in a tin can when we heard hoof thuds on the cow-path. a man rode in on us. he was a young man, with a short red mustache and a peaked hat, and a greenish-shade norfolk jacket with a badge on the left breast. a forest ranger! under his leg was a rifle in scabbard. "howdy?" he said, stopping and eying us. kit carson and i saluted him, military way, because he represented the government, and answered: "howdy, sir?" he was cross, as he gazed about. "what are you lads trying to do? set the timber afire?" he scolded. he saw the burned place, you know. "we didn't do that," i answered. "it was afire when we came in and we put it out." he grunted. "how did it start?" "a camp-fire, we think." he fairly snorted. he was pretty well disgusted and angered, we could see. "of course. there are more blamed fools and down-right criminals loose in these hills this summer than ever before. i've done nothing except chase fires for a month, now. who are you fellows?" "we're a detail of the elk patrol, 14th colorado troop, boy scouts of america." "well, i suppose you've been taught about the danger from camp-fires, then?" "yes, sir," i answered. "bueno," he grunted. "wish there were plenty more like you. every person who leaves a live camp-fire behind him, anywhere, ought to be made to stay in a city all the rest of his life." (note 52.) he straightened in his saddle and lifted the lines to ride on. but his horse looked mighty tired and so did he; and as a scout it was up to me to say: "stop off and have supper. we're traveling light, but we can set out bread and tea." "sure," added kit carson and jed smith. "no, thanks," he replied. "i've got a few miles yet to ride, before i quit. and to-morrow's sunday, when i don't ride much if i can help it. so long." "so long," we called; and he passed on at a trot. we had supper of bread and bacon and tea. the bread sopped in bacon grease was fine. jed felt better and drank some tea, himself, and ate a little. it was partly a hunger headache. we pulled dead grass and cut off spruce and pine tips, and spread a blanket on it all. the two other blankets we used for covering. our coats rolled up were pillows. we didn't undress, except to take off our shoes. then stretched out together, on the one-blanket bed and under the two blankets, we slept first-rate. jed had the warm middle place, because he was the littlest. as i was commander of the detail i woke up first in the morning, and turned out. after a rub-off at the creek i took the twenty-two and went hunting for breakfast. i saw a rabbit; but just as i drew a bead on him i suddenly remembered that this was _sunday morning_--and i quit. sunday ought to be different from other days. so i left him hopping and happy, and i went back to camp. jed and kit had the fire going and the water boiling; and we breakfasted on tea and bread and bacon. then we policed the camp, put out the fire, every spark, and took the burro and horse trail, to the rescue again. we must pretend that this was only a little sunday walk, for exercise. after a while the trail crossed the creek at a shallow place, and by a cow-path climbed the side of a hill. before exposing ourselves on top of the hill we crawled and stuck just our heads up, indian scouts fashion, to reconnoiter. the top was clear of enemy. sitting a minute, to look, we could see old pilot peak and the snowy range where we scouts ought to be crossing, bearing the message. we believed that now the gang with prisoners were traveling to cross the range, too. they had the message, of course, and that was bad, unless we could head them off. so we sort of hitched our belts another notch and traveled as fast as we could. the hill we were on spread into a plateau of low cedars and scrubby pines; the snowy range, with pilot peak sticking up, was before. after we had been hiking for two or three hours, off diagonally to the left we saw a forest fire. this was thick timber country, and the fire made a tremendous smoke. it was likely to be a big fire, and we wondered if the ranger was fighting it. as for us, we were on the trail and must hurry. we watched the fire, but we were not afraid of it, yet. the plateau was too bare for it, if it came our way. the smoke grew worse--a black, rolling smoke; and we could almost see the great sheets of flame leaping. we were glad we weren't in it, and that we didn't know of anybody else who was in it. but whoever had set it had done a dreadful thing. the trail of the burros and of the horses, mixed, continued on, and left the plateau and dipped down into a wide flat, getting nearer to the timber on the slope opposite. then out from our left, or on the fire side, a man came riding hard. he shouted and waved at us, so we stopped. he was the ranger. i tell you, but he looked tired and angry. his eyes were red-rimmed and his face was streaked with sweat and dirt, and holes were burned in his clothes and his horse's hide. "i want you boys," he panted, as soon as he drew up. "we've got to stop that fire. see it?" of course we'd seen it. but--it wasn't any of our business, was it? "i want you to hurry over there to a fire line and keep the fire from crossing. quick! savvy?" "i don't believe we can, sir," i said. "we're on the trail." "what difference does that make?" "we're after a gang who have three of our men and we want to stop them before they cross the range." "you follow me." "i'm sorry," i said; "but we're trailing. we're obeying orders." "whose orders?" "our patrol leader's." "who's he?" "general ashley--i mean, roger franklin. he's another boy. but he's been captured and two of our partners. we're to follow and rescue them. we've got to go." "no, you haven't," answered the ranger. "not until after this fire is under control. you'll be paid for your time." "we don't care anything about the pay," said kit carson. "we've got to go on." "well, i'm giving you higher orders from a higher officer, then," retorted the ranger. "i'm giving you orders from the president of the united states. this is government work, and i'm representing the government. i reckon you boy scouts want to support the government, don't you?" sure we did. "if that fire goes it will burn millions of dollars' worth of timber, and may destroy ranches and people, too. it's your duty now to help the government and to put it out. your duty to uncle sam is bigger than any duty to private scouts' affairs. and it is the law that anybody seeing a forest fire near him shall report it or aid in extinguishing it. now, are you coming, or will you sneak off with an excuse?" "why--coming!" we all cried at once. we hated to leave the trail--to leave the general and fitz and jim bridger and the message to their fate; but the government was calling, here, and the first duty of good scouts is to be good citizens. "pass up your blanket rolls," ordered the ranger. "you smallest kid climb behind me. each of you two others catch hold of a stirrup. then we can make time across." in a second away we all went at a trot, heading for the timber and the fire. "i rode right through that fire to get you," said the ranger. "i saw you. i've got two or three guards working up over the ridge. your job is to watch a fire line that runs along this side of the base of that point yonder. one end of the fire line is a boggy place with willows and aspens; and if we can keep the fire from jumping those willows and starting across, down the valley, and those fellows on the other side of the ridge can head it off, in their direction, then we'll stop it by back-firing at the edge of brazito canyon." he talked as rapidly as we moved--and that was good fast scouts' trot, for us. the hold on the stirrups and latigos helped a lot. it lifted us over the ground. we all crossed the flat diagonally and struck into a draw or valley full of timber and with a creek in it, at right angles to the flat. up this we scooted, hard as we could pelt. "tired? want to rest a second?" he asked. we grunted "no," for we had our second wind and little jed smith was hanging on tight, behind the saddle. besides, the fire was right ahead, toward the left, belching up its great rolls of black-and-white smoke. and at the same time (although we didn't know it) the gang who had started it were fleeing in one direction, from it, and the general and fitzpatrick were loose and fleeing in another direction, and jim bridger was smelling it and with the red fox patrol was drawing near to it and not knowing, and the beaver man was tying up his leg and about to run right into it. but we were to help stop it. "here!" spoke the ranger. "here's the fire line, this cleared space like a trail. it runs to those willows a quarter of a mile below. when the fire comes along this ridge you watch this line and beat out and stamp out every flame. see? you can do it. it won't travel fast, down-hill; but if ever it crosses the line and reaches the bottom of the valley where the brush is thick, there's no knowing where it will stop. it will burn willows and everything else. one of you drop off here; i'll take the others further. then i must make tracks for the front." we left kit carson here. jed smith climbed down and was left next, in the middle, and i was hustled to the upper end. "so long," said the ranger. "don't let it get past you. it won't. work hard, and if you're really in danger run for the creek. but boy scouts of america don't run till they have to. you can save lives and a heap of timber, by licking the fire at this point. i'll see you later." and off he spurred, through the timber, across the front of the fire. he wasn't afraid--and so we weren't, either. chapter xiv the capture of the beaver man the fire line looked like some old wood-road, where trees had been cut out and brush cleared away. it extended through the timber, striking the thin places and the rocky bare places, and the highest places, and wound on, half a mile, over a point. this point, with a long slope from the ridge to the valley there, was open and fire-proof. the lower end of the line was that willow bog, which lay in a basin right in a split of the timber. away across from our ridge was another gravelly ridge, and beyond that was the snowy range. (note 53.) the smoke was growing thick and strong, so that we could smell it plain. the fire was coming right along, making for us. there were the three of us to cover a half-mile or more of fire line, so we got busy. we divided the line into three patrols, and set to work tramping down the brush on the fire side of it and making ready. pretty soon wild animals began to pass, routed out by the fire. that was fun, to watch deer and coyotes and rabbits and other things scoot by, among the trees, as if they were moving pictures. once i saw a wolf, and little jed smith called that he had seen a bear. kit carson reported that some of the animals seemed to be heading into the willow bog beyond his end of the line. it was kind of nervous work, getting ready and waiting for the fire. it was worse than actual fighting, and we'd rather meet the fire halfway than wait for it to come to us. but we were here to wait. the fire did not arrive all at once, with a jump. not where i was. a thin blue smoke, lazy and harmless, drifted through among the trees, and a crackling sounded louder and louder. then there were breaths of hot air, as if a dragon was foraging about. birds flew over, calling and excited, and squirrels raced along, and porcupines and skunks, and even worms and ants crawled and ran, trying to escape the dragon. a wind blew, and the timber moaned as if hurt and frightened. i felt sorry for the pines and spruces and cedars. they could not run away, and they were doomed to be burnt alive. the birds all had gone, worms and ants and bugs were still hurrying, and the timber was quiet except for the crackling. now i glimpsed the dragon himself. he was digging around, up the slope a little way, extending his claws further and further like a cat as he explored new ground and gathered in every morsel. this is the way the fire came--not roaring and leaping, but sneaking along the ground and among the bushes, with little advance squads like dragon's claws or like the scouts of an army, reconnoitering. the crackling increased, the hot gusts blew oftener, i could see back into the dragon's great mouth where bushes and trees were flaming and disappearing--and suddenly he gave a roar and leaped for our fire line, and ate a bush near it. then i leaped for him and struck a paw down with my stick. so we began to fight. it wasn't a crown fire, where the flames travel through the tops of the timber; it traveled along the ground, and climbed the low trees and then reached for the big ones. but when it came near the fire line, it stopped and felt about sort of blindly, and that was our chance to jump on it and stamp it out and beat it out and kill it. the smoke was awful, and so was the heat, but the wind helped me and carried most of it past. and now the old dragon was right in front of me, raging and snapping. the fore part of him must be approaching jed smith, further along the line. i whistled the scout whistle, loud, and gave the scout halloo--and from jed echoed back the signal to show that all was well. this was hot work, for sunday or any day. the smoke choked and blinded, and the air fairly scorched. pine makes a bad blaze. what i had to do was to run back and forth along the fire line, crushing the dragon's claws. my shoes felt burned through and my face felt blistered, and jiminy, how i sweat! but that dragon never got across my part of the fire line. the space inside my part was burnt out and smoldering, and i could join with jed. there were two of us to lick the fire, here; but the dragon was raging worse and the two of us were needed. he kept us busy. i suppose that there was more brush. and when we would follow him down, and help kit, he was worse than ever. how he roared! he was determined to get across and go around that willow bog. once he did get across, and we chased him and fought him back with feet and hands and even rolled on him. a bad wind had sprung up, and we didn't know but that we were to have a crown fire. the heat would have baked bread; the cinders were flying and we must watch those, to catch them when they landed. we had to be everywhere at once--in the smoke and the cinders and the flames, and if i hadn't been a scout, stationed with orders, i for one would have been willing to sit and rest, just for a minute, and let the blamed fire go. but i didn't, and kit and jed didn't; all of a sudden the dragon quit, and with roar and crackle went plunging on, along the ridge inside the willow bog. we had held the fire line--and we didn't know that jim bridger and the red fox scouts were in those willows which we had saved because we had been ordered to! then, when just a few little blazes remained to be trampled and beaten out, but while the timber further in was still aflame, jed cried: "look!" and we saw a man coming, staggering and coughing, down through a rocky little canyon which cut the black, smoking slope. he fell, and we rushed to get him. blazing branches were falling, all about; the air was two hundred in the shade; and in that little canyon the rocks seemed red-hot. but the fire hadn't got into the canyon, much, because it was narrow and bare; and the man must have been following it and have made it save his life. he was in bad shape, though. before we reached him he had stood up and tumbled several times, trying to feel his way along. "wait! we're coming," i called. he heard, and tried to see. "all right," he answered hoarsely. "come ahead." we reached him. kit carson and i held him up by putting his arms over our shoulders, and with jed walking behind we helped him through the canyon and out to the fire line. he groaned and grunted. his eyebrows were crisped and his hair was singed and his shoes were cinders and his hands and face were scarred, and his eyes were all bloodshot, and he had holes through his clothes. "fire out?" he asked. "i can't see." "it isn't out, but it's past," said jed. "well, it mighty near got _me_," he groaned. "it corralled me on that ridge. if i hadn't cached myself in that little canyon, i'd have been burned to a crisp. it burned my hoss, i reckon. he jerked loose from me and left me to go it alone with my wounded leg. water! ain't there a creek ahead? gimme some water." while he was mumbling we set him down, beyond the fire line. it didn't seem as though we could get him any further. kit hustled for water, jed skipped to get first-aid stuff from a blanket-roll, and i made an examination. his face and hands were blistered--maybe his eyes were scorched--there was a bloody place wrapped about with a dirty red handkerchief, on the calf of his left leg. but i couldn't do much until i had scissors or a sharp knife, and water. "who are you kids?" he asked. "fishin'?" he was lying with his eyes closed. "no. we're some boy scouts." he didn't seem to like this. "great scott!" he complained. "ain't there nobody but boy scouts in these mountains?" just then kit came back with a hat of water from a boggy place. it was muddy water, but it looked wet and good, and the man gulped it down, except what i used to soak our handkerchiefs in. kit went for more. jed arrived with first-aid stuff, and i set to work, jed helping. we let the man wipe his own face, while we cut open his shirt where it had stuck to the flesh. "here!" he said suddenly. "quit that. what's the matter with you?" but he was too late. when i got inside his undershirt, there on a buckskin cord was hanging something that we had seen before. at least, it either was the message of the elk patrol or else a package exactly like it. "is that yours?" i asked. "maybe yes, and maybe no. why?" he growled. "because if it isn't, we'd like to know where you got it." "and if you don't tell, we'll go on and let you be," snapped little jed. "shut up," i ordered--which wasn't the right way, but i said it before i thought. jed had made me angry. "no, we won't." and we wouldn't. our duty was to fix him the best we could. "but that looks like something belonging to us scouts, and it has our private mark on it. we'd like to have you explain where you got it." "he's _got_ to explain, too," said little jed, excited. "have i?" grinned the man, hurting his face. "why so?" "there are three of us kids. we can keep sight of you till that ranger comes back. he'll make you." "who?" "that forest ranger. he's a government officer." kit carson arrived, staring, with more water. "i know you!" he panted. he signed to us, pointing at the man's feet. "you were at that other camp!" and jed and i looked and saw the hole in the left sole--although both soles were badly burned, now. by that mark he was the beaver man! he wriggled uneasily as if he had a notion to sit up. "well, if you want it so bad, and it's yours, take it." and in a jiffy i had cut it loose with my knife. "it's been a hoodoo to me. how did you know i was at any other camp? are you those three kids?" "we saw your tracks," i answered. "what three kids?" "the three kids those other fellows had corralled." "no, but we're their partners. we're looking for them." he'd had another drink of water and his face squinted at us, as we fussed about him. kit took off one of the shoes and i the other, to get at the blistered feet. "never saw you before, did i?" "maybe not." "well, i'll tell you some news. one of your partners got away." that was good. "how do you know?" we all three asked. "i met him, back on the trail, with two new kids." "which one was he? what did he look like?" "a young lad, dressed like you. carried a bow and arrow." "brown eyes and big ears?" "brown eyes, i reckon. didn't notice his ears." that must have been jim bridger. "who were the two fellows?" "more of you scouts, i reckon. carried packs on their backs. dressed in khaki and leggins, like soldiers." they weren't any of us elks, then. but we were tremendously excited. "when?" "this noon." that sure was news. hurrah for jim bridger! "did you see a one-armed boy?" "saw him in that camp, where the three of 'em were corralled." "what kind of a crowd had they? was one wearing a big revolver?" "yes. 'bout as big as he was. they looked like some tough town bunch." "how many?" "eight or ten." oho! "did you hear anybody called bill?" "yes; also bat and mike and walt and et cetery." we'd fired these questions at him as fast as we could get them in edgewise, and now we knew a heap. the signs had told us true. those two recruits had joined with the town gang, and our scouts had been captured; but escape had been attempted and jim bridger had got away. "how did you get that packet?" asked kit. "found it." he spoke short as if he was done talking. it seemed that he had told us the truth, so far; but if we kept questioning him much more he might get tired or cross, and lie. we might ask foolish questions, too; and foolish questions are worse than no questions. we had done a good job on this man, as appeared to us. we had bathed his face, and had exposed the worst burns on his body and arms and legs and had covered them with carbolized vaseline and gauze held on with adhesive plaster, and had cleaned the wound in his leg. it was a regular hole, but we didn't ask him how he got it. 'twas in mighty bad shape, for it hadn't been attended to right and was dirty and swollen. cold clear water dripped into it to flush it and clean it and reduce the inflammation would have been fine, but we didn't have that kind of water handy; so we sifted some boric powder into it and over it and bound on it a pad of dry sterilized gauze, but not too tight. i asked him if there was a bullet or anything else in it, and he said no. he had run against a stick. this was about all that we could do to it, and play safe by not poking into it too much. (note 54.) he seemed to feel pretty good, now, and sat up. "well," he said, "now i've given you boys your message and told you what i know, and you've fixed me up, so i'll be movin' on. where are those things i used to call shoes?" we exchanged glances. he was the beaver man. "we aren't through yet," i said. "oh, i reckon you are," he answered. "i'm much obliged. pass me the shoes, will you?" "no; wait," said kit carson. "what for?" he was beginning to growl. "till you're all fixed." "i'm fixed enough." "we'll dress some of those wounds over again." "no, you won't. pass me those shoes." they were hidden behind a tree. "can't you wait a little?" "no, i can't wait a little." he was growling in earnest. "will you pass me those shoes?" "no, we won't," announced kit. he was getting angry, too. "you pass me those shoes or something is liable to happen to you mighty sudden. i'll break you in two." "i'll get the rifle," said jed, and started; but i called him back. we didn't need a rifle. "he can't do anything in bare feet like that," i said. and he couldn't. his feet were too soft and burned. that is why we kept the shoes, of course. "i can't, eh?" "no. we aren't afraid." he started to stand, and then he sat back again. "i'll put a hole in some of you," he muttered; and felt at the side of his chest. but if he had carried a gun in a texas holster there, it was gone. "say, you, what's the matter with you?" he queried. "what do you want to keep me here for?" "you'd better wait. we'll stay, too." he glared at us. then he began to wheedle. "say, what'd i ever do to you? didn't i give you back that message, and tell you all i knew? didn't i help you out as much as i could?" "sure," we said. "then what have you got it in for me for?" "we'd rather you'd wait till the ranger or somebody comes along," i explained. he fumbled in a pants pocket. "lookee here," he offered. and he held it out. "here's a twenty-dollar gold piece. take it and divvy it among you; and i'll go along and nobody'll be the wiser." "no, thanks," we said. "i'll make it twenty apiece for each," he insisted. "here they are. see? give me those shoes, and take these yellow bucks and go and have a good time." but we shook our heads, and had to laugh. he couldn't bluff us scouts, and he couldn't bribe us, either. he twisted and stood up, and we jumped away, and kit was ready to grab up the shoes and carry them across into the burned timber where the ground was still hot. the man swore and threatened frightfully. "i'd like to get my fingers on one of you, once," he stormed. "you'd sing a different tune." so we would. but we had the advantage now and we didn't propose to lose it. he couldn't travel far in bare, blistered feet. i wished that he'd sit down again. we didn't want to torment him or nag him, just because we had him. he did sit down. "what do you think i am, anyhow?" he asked. "well, you've been killing beaver," i told him. "who said so?" "we saw you at the beaver-pond, when we were camping opposite. and just after you left the game warden came along, looking for you." "you saw some other man." "no, we didn't. we know your tracks. and if you aren't the man, then you'll be let go." "you kids make me tired," he grumbled, and tried to laugh it off. "supposin' a man does trap a beaver or two. they're made to be trapped. they have to be trapped or else they dam up streams and overflow good land. nobody misses a few beaver, anyhow, in the timber. this is a free land, ain't it?" "killing beaver is against the law, just the same," said jed. "you kids didn't make the law, did you? you aren't judge of the law, are you?" "no," i said. "but we know what it is and we don't think it ought to be broken. if people go ahead breaking the game laws, then there won't be any game left for the people who keep the laws to see or hunt. and the less game there is, the more laws there'll be." i knew that by heart. it was what scouts are taught. this sounded like preaching. but it was true. and while he was fuming and growling and figuring on what to do, we were mighty glad to hear a horse's hoofs. the ranger came galloping down the fire line. "hello," he said. he was streaked with ashes and soot and sweat, and so was his horse, and they both looked worn to a frazzle. "well, we've licked the fire. who's that? somebody hurt?" then he gave another quick look. "why, how are you, jack? you must have run against something unexpected." the beaver man only growled, as if mad and disgusted. i saluted. "we have held the fire line, sir," i reported. "you bet!" answered the ranger. "you did well. and now you're holding jack, are you? you needn't explain. i know all about him. since that fire drove him out along with other animals, we'll hang on to him. the game warden spoke to me about him a long time ago." "you fellows think you're mighty smart. do i get my shoes, or not?" growled the beaver man. "not," answered the ranger, cheerfully. "we'll wrap your feet up with a few handkerchiefs and let you ride this horse." he got down. "what's the matter? burns? bad leg? say! these kids are some class on first-aid, aren't they! you're lucky. did you thank them? now you can ride nicely and the game warden will sure be glad to see you." then he spoke to us. "i'm going over to my cabin, boys, where there's a telephone. better come along and spend the night." we hustled for our blanket-rolls. the beaver man gruntingly climbed aboard the ranger's horse, and we all set out. the ranger led the horse, and carried his rifle. "is the fire out?" asked kit carson. "not out, but it's under control. it'll burn itself out, where it's confined. i've left a squad to guard it and i'll telephone in to headquarters and report. but if it had got across this fire line and around those willows, we'd have been fighting it for a week." "how did it start?" "somebody's camp-fire." the trail we were making led through the timber and on, across a little creek and up the opposite slope. the sun was just setting as we came out beyond the timber, and made diagonally up a bare ridge. on top it looked like one end of that plateau we had crossed when we were trailing the gang and we had first seen the fire. the ranger had come up here because traveling was better and he could take a good look around. we halted, puffing, while he looked. off to the west was the snowy range, and old pilot peak again, with the sun setting right beside him, in a crack. the range didn't seem far, but it seemed cold and bleak--and over it we were bound. only, although now we had the message, we didn't have the other scouts. if they were burned--oh, jiminy! "great cã¦sar! more smoke!" groaned the ranger. "if that's another fire started--!" his words made us jump and gaze about. yes, there was smoke, plenty of it, over where the forest fire we had fought was still alive. but he was looking in another direction, down along the top of the plateau. "see it?" he asked. yes, we saw it. but--! and then our hearts gave a great leap. "that's not a forest fire!" we cried. "that's a smoke signal!" "a what?" "a smoke signal! and--" "wait a second. we'll read it, if we can. scouts must be over there," i exclaimed. "more scouts!" grunted the beaver man. "these here hills are plumb full of 'em." the air was quiet, and the smoke rose straight up, with the sun tinting the top. it was a pretty sight, to us. then we saw two puffs and a pause, and two puffs and a pause, and two puffs and a pause. it was our private elk patrol code, and it was beautiful. we cheered. "it's from our partners, and it says 'come to council,'" i reported. "they're hunting for us. we'll have to go over there." "think they're in trouble?" "they don't say so, but we ought to signal back and go right over." "i'll go, too, for luck, and see you through, then," said the ranger. "do i have to make that extra ride?" complained the beaver man, angry again. "sure," answered the ranger. "that's only a mile or so and then it's only a few more miles to the cabin, and we aren't afraid of the dark." they watched us curiously while we hustled and scraped a pile of dead sage and grass and rubbish, and set it to smoking and made the elks' "o. k." signal. the other scouts must have been sweeping the horizon and hoping, for back came the "o. k." signal from them. and traveling our fastest, with the beaver man grumbling, we all headed across the plateau for the place of the smoke. sunday was turning out good, after all. [illustration: "it was our private elk patrol code."] chapter xv general ashley drops out (jim bridger resumes the tale) i tell you, we were glad to have that smoke of ours answered, and to see major henry and kit carson and jed smith coming, in the twilight, with the ranger and the beaver man. we guessed that the three boys must be our three partners--and when they waved with the elk patrol sign we knew; but of course we didn't know who the two strangers were. while they were approaching, major henry wigwagged: "all there?" with his cap; and fitzpatrick wigwagged back: "sure!" they arrived opposite us, and then headed by the man with the rifle, who was leading the horse, they obliqued up along the gulch as if they knew of a crossing; so we decided that one of the strangers must be acquainted with the country. they made a fine sight, against the horizon. pretty soon into the gulch they plunged, and after a few minutes out they scrambled, man and horse first, on our side, and came back toward us. and in a minute more we elk scouts were dancing and hugging each other, and calling each other by our regular ordinary names, "fat" and "sliver" and "red" and all, and discipline didn't cut much figure. that was a joyful reunion. the ranger and his prisoner, the beaver man, looked on. then when major henry hauled out the message packet, and saluting and grinning passed it to the general, our cup was full. i was as glad as if i had passed it, myself. "one for all, and all for one," is the way we scouts work. "if you hadn't trailed him (the beaver man) and headed him and fixed him so he couldn't travel fast, he'd have got away from the fire and wouldn't have run into _us_," claimed major henry. "and if you fellows hadn't held that fire line you wouldn't have seen him and we might have been burnt or suffocated in the willows," i claimed back. so what seems a failure or a bother, when you're trying your best, often is the most important thing of all, or helps make the chain complete. but now we didn't take much time to explain to each other or to swap yarns; for the twilight was gone and the dark was closing in, and we weren't in the best of shape. the burro apache was packed with bedding, mostly, which was a good thing, of course; the red fox scouts had their outfit; but we elks were short on grub. that piece of bacon and just the little other stuff carried by the major henry party were our provisions. fitz and the poor general were making a hungry camp, when we had discovered them. and then there was the general, laid up. "what's the matter with you, kid?" queried the ranger. "sprained ankle, i think." "that's sure bad," sympathized the ranger. and it sure was. "boys, i'll have to be traveling for that cabin of mine, to report about the fire and this man," said the ranger, after listening to our talk for a minute. "if you're grub-shy, some of you had better come along and i'll send back enough to help you out." that was mighty nice of him. and the general spoke up, weakly. "how far is the cabin, please?" "about three miles, straight across." "if i could make it, could i stay there a little while?" "stay a year, if you want to. we'll pack you over, if you'll go. can you ride?" "all right," said the general. "i'll do it. now, you fellows, listen. major henry, i turn the command and the message over to you. i'm no good; i can't travel and we've spent a lot of time already, and i'd be only a drag. so i'll drop out and go over to that cabin, and you other scouts take the message." oh, we didn't want to do that! leave the general? never! "no, sir, we'll take you along if we have to carry you on our backs," we said; and we started in, all to talk at once. but he made us quit. "say, do i have to sit here all night while you chew the rag?" grumbled the beaver man. but we didn't pay attention to _him_. "it doesn't matter about me, whether i go or not, as long as we get that message through," answered the general, to us. "i can't travel, and i'd only hold you back and delay things. i'll quit, and the rest of you hustle and make up for lost time." "i'll stay with you. this is scout custom: two by two," spoke up little jed smith. he was the general's mate. "nobody stays with me. you all go right on under corporal henry." "it'll be plumb dark before we get to that cabin," grumbled the beaver man. "this ain't any way to treat a fellow who's been stuck and then burnt. i'm tired o' sittin' on this hoss with my toes out." "well, you can get off and let this other man ride. i'll hobble you and he can lead you," said the ranger. "what's the matter with the burro?" growled the beaver man. he wasn't so anxious to walk, after all. sure! we knew that the ranger was waiting, so while some of us led up apache, others bandaged the general's ankle tighter, to make it ride easier and not hurt so much if it dangled. then we lifted the general, scout fashion, on our hands, and set him on apache. now something else happened. red fox scout ward stepped forward and took the lead rope. "i'm going," he announced quietly. "i'm feeling fine and you other fellows are tired. somebody must bring the burro back, and the general may need a hand." "no, i won't," corrected the general. "but the burro must come back." "it's up to us elk scouts to do that," protested major henry. "some of us will go. you stay. it's dark." "no, sir. you elk men have been traveling on short rations and van sant and i have been fed up. it's either van or i, and i'll go." and he did. he was bound to. but it was a long extra tramp. we shook hands with the general, and gave him the scouts' cheer; and a cheer for the ranger. "ain't we ever goin' to move on?" grumbled the beaver man. "i may stay all night and be back early in the morning," called ward. "of course." they trailed away, in the dimness--the ranger ahead leading the beaver man, red fox scout ward leading apache. and we were sorry to see them go. we should miss the plucky ashley, our captain. chapter xvi a burro in bed when i woke in the morning fitz was already up, building the fire, according to routine, and red fox scout van sant was helping him. so i rolled out at once, and here came red fox scout ward with the burro, across the mesa, for the camp. he brought a little flour and a few potatoes and a big hunk of meat, and a fry-pan. he brought a map of the country, too, that he had sketched from information from the ranger. that crack beside pilot peak, where the sun had set, was a pass through, which we could take for green valley. it was a pass used by the indians and buffalo, once, and an old indian trail crossed it still. the general sent word that if we took that trail, he would get the goods we had left cached. "now," reported major henry, when we had filled for a long day's march, "i'll put it to vote. we can either find that cache ourselves, and take the trail from there, as first planned, or we can head straight across the mountain. it's a short cut for the other side of the range, but it may be rough traveling. the other way, beyond the cache, looked pretty rough, too. but we'd have our traps and supplies,--as much as we could pack on apache, anyhow." "i vote we go straight ahead, over the mountain, this way," said fitz. "we'll get through. we've got to. we've been out seven days, and we aren't over, yet." we counted. that was so. whew! we must hurry. kit and jed and i voted with fitz. "all right. break camp," ordered major henry. he didn't have to speak twice. "that ranger says we can strike the railroad, over on the other side, van, and make our connections there," said red fox scout ward to his partner. "let's go with the elks and see them through that far." that was great. they had come off their trail a long way already, helping me, it seemed to us--but if they wanted to keep us company further, hurrah! only, we wouldn't sponge off of them, just because they had the better outfit, now. we policed the camp, and put out the fire, through force of habit, and with the burro packed with the squaw hitch (note 55), and the red foxes packed, forth we started, as the sun was rising, to follow the ute trail, over pilot peak. the red fox scouts carried their own stuff; they wouldn't let us put any of it on apache, for they were independent, too. travel wasn't hard. after we crossed the gorge the top of the mesa or plateau was flat and gravelly, with some sage and grass, and we made good time. we missed the general, and we were sorry to leave that cache, but we had cut loose and were taking the message on once more. thus we began our second week out. the forest fire was about done. just a little smoke drifted up, in the distance behind and below. but from our march we could see where the fire had passed through the timber, yonder across; and that blackened swath was a melancholy sight. we didn't stop for nooning, and when we made an early camp the crack had opened out, and was a pass, sure enough. red fox scout van sant and i were detailed to take the two rifles and hunt for rabbits. we got three--two cottontails and a jack--among the willows where a stream flowed down from the pass. the stream was swarming here with little trout, and jed smith and kit carson caught twenty-four in an hour. so we lived high again. those red fox scouts had a fine outfit. they had a water-proof silk tent, with jointed poles. it folded to pocket size, and didn't weigh anything at all; but when set up it was large enough for them both to sleep in. then they had a double sleeping bag, and blankets that were light and warm both, and a lot of condensed foods and that little alcohol stove, and a complete kit of aluminum cooking and eating ware that closed together--and everything went into those two packs. they used the packs instead of burros or pack-horses. i believe that animals are better in the mountains where a fellow climbs at ten and twelve thousand feet, and where the nights are cold so he needs more bedding than lower down. man-packs are all right in the flat timber and in the hills out east, i suppose. but all styles have their good points, maybe; and a scout must adapt himself to the country. we all can't be the same. because the red fox scouts were easterners, clear from new jersey, and we were westerners, of colorado, we sort of eyed them sideways, at first. they had such a swell outfit, you know, and their uniform was smack to the minute, while ours was rough and ready. they set up their tent, and we let them--but our way was to sleep out, under tarps (when we had tarps), in the open. we didn't know but what, on the march, they might want to keep their own mess--they had so many things that we didn't. but right away a good thing happened again. "how did fitzpatrick lose his arm?" asked scout van sant of me, when we were out hunting and fitz couldn't hear. "in the april day mine," i said. "where?" "back home." he studied. "i _thought_ the name of that town sounded awfully familiar to me," he said. when we came into camp with our rabbits, he went straight up to fitz. "i hear you hurt your arm in the april day mine," he said. "yes. i was working there," answered fitz. "why?" van sant stuck out his hand. "shake," he said. "my father owns that mine--or most of it. ever hear of him?" "no," said fitz, flushing. "i'm just a mucker and a sorter. my father's a miner." "well, shake," laughed van sant. "i never even mucked or sorted, and you know more than i do about it. my father just owns--and if it wasn't for the workers like you and your father, the mine wouldn't be worth owning. see? i'm mighty sorry you got hurt there, though." fitz shook hands. "it was partly my own fault," he said. "i took a chance. that was before your father bought the mine, anyway." then he went to cooking and we cleaned our game. but from that time on we knew the red fox scouts to be all right, and their being from the east made no difference in them. so we and they used each other's things, and we all mixed in together and were one party. we had a good camp and a big rest, this night: the first time of real peace since a long while back, it seemed to me. the next morning we pushed on, following up along the creek, and a faint trail, for the pass. this day's march was a hard climb, every hour, and it took our wind, afoot. but by evening old pilot peak wasn't far at all. his snow patches were getting larger. when we camped in a little park we must have been up about eleven thousand feet, and the breeze from the divide ahead of us blew cool. the march now led through aspens and pines and wild flowers, with the stream singing, and forming little waterfalls and pools and rapids, and full of those native trout about as large as your two fingers. there was the old indian trail, to guide us. it didn't have a track except deer-tracks, and we might have been the only white persons ever here. that was fine. another sign was the amount of game. of course, some of the game may have been driven here by the forest fire. but we saw lots of grouse, which sat as we passed by, and rabbits and porcupines, and out of the aspens we jumped deer. we arrived where the pretty little stream, full of songs and pictures and trout, came tumbling out of a canyon with bottom space for just it alone. the old indian trail obliqued off, up a slope, through the timber on the right, and so did we. it was very quiet, here. the lumber folks had not got in with their saws and axes, and the trees were great spruces, so high and stately that we felt like ants. among the shaded, nice-smelling aisles the old trail wound. sometimes it was so covered with the fallen needles that we could not see it; and it had been blazed, years ago, by trappers or somebody, and where it crossed glades we came upon it again. it was an easy trail. we reached the top of a little ridge, and before us we saw the pass. 'twas a wide, open pass, with snow-banks showing on it, and the sun swinging down to set behind it. the trail forked, one branch making for the pass, the other making for the right, where pilot peak loomed close at hand. there was some reason why the trail forked, and as we surveyed we caught the glint of a lake, over there. major henry examined the sketch map. "that must be medicine lake," he said. "i think we'd better go over there and camp, instead of trying the pass. we're sure of wood and water, and it won't be so windy." the trail took us safely to the brow of a little basin, and looking down we saw the lake. it was lying at the base of pilot peak. above it on one side rose a steep slope of a gray slide-rock, like a railway cut, only of course no railroad was around here; and all about, on the other sides, were pointed pines. i tell you, that was beautiful. and when we got to the lake we found it to be black as ink--only upon looking into it you could see down, as if you were looking through smoky crystal. the water was icy cold, and full of specks dancing where the sun struck, and must have been terrifically deep. we camped beside an old log cabin, all in ruins. it was partly roofed over with sod, but we spread our beds outside; these old cabins are great places for pack-rats and skunks and other animals like those. fish were jumping in the lake, and the two red fox scouts and i were detailed to catch some. the red fox scouts tried flies, but the water was as smooth as glass, and you can't fool these mountain lake-trout, very often, that way. then we put on spinners and trolled from the shores by casting. we could see the fish, gliding sluggishly about,--great big fellows; but they never noticed our hooks, and we didn't have a single strike. so we must quit, disgusted. the night was grand. the moon was full, and came floating up over the dark timber which we had left, to shine on us and on the black lake and on the mountain. resting there in our blankets, we elk scouts could see all about us. the lake lay silent and glassy, except when now and then a big old trout plashed. the slide-rock bank gleamed white, and above it stretched the long rocky slope of pilot, with the moon casting lights and shadows clear to its top. this was a mighty lonely spot, up here, by the queer lake, with timber on one side and the mountain on the other; the air was frosty, because ice would form any night, so high; not a sound could be heard, save the plash of trout, or the sighs of apache as he fidgeted and dozed and grazed; but the red fox scouts were snug under their tent, and under our bedding we elks were cuddled warm, in two pairs and with major henry sleeping single. we did not need to hobble or picket apache. (note 56.) he had come so far that he followed like a dog and stayed around us like a dog. when you get a burro out into the timber or desert wilds and have cut him loose from his regular stamping ground, then he won't be separated from you. he's afraid. burros are awfully funny animals. they like company. so when we camped we just turned apache out, and he hung about pretty close, expecting scraps of bread and stuff and enjoying our conversation. to-night he kept snorting and fussing, and edging in on us, and before we went to sleep we had to throw sticks at him and shoo him off. it seemed too lonesome for him, up here. then we dropped to sleep, under the moon--and then, the first thing fitz and i knew, apache was trying to crawl into bed with us! that waked us. nobody can sleep with a burro under the same blanket. apache was right astraddle of us and was shaking like an aspen leaf; his long ears were pricked, he was glaring about, and how he snorted! i sat up; so did fitz. we were afraid that apache might step on our faces. "get out, apache!" we begged. but he wouldn't "get." he didn't budge, and we had to push him aside, with our hands against his stomach. now the whole camp was astir, grumbling and turning. apache ran and tried to bunk with kit and jed. "get out!" scolded kit; and repulsed here, poor apache stuck his nose in between the flaps of the silk tent and began to shove inside. something crackled amidst the brush along the lake, and there sounded a snort from that direction, also. it was a peculiar snort. it was a grunty, blowy snort. and beside me fitz stiffened and lifted his head further. "bear!" he whispered. "whoof!" it answered. "bear! look out! there's a bear around!" said the camp, from bed to bed. down came the silk tent on top of apache, and out from under wriggled the red fox scouts, as fast as they could move. their hair was rumpled up, they were pale in the moonlight, and van sant had his twenty-two rifle ready. that must have startled them, to be waked by a big thing like apache forcing a way into their tent. "who said bear? where is it?" demanded van sant. "don't shoot!" ordered major henry, sharply, sitting up. "don't anybody shoot. that will make things worse. tumble out, everybody, and raise a noise. give a yell. we can scare him." "i see it!" cried ward. "look! in that clear spot yonder--up along the lake, about thirty yards." right! a blackish thing as big as a cow was standing out in the moonlight, facing us, its head high. we could almost see its nostrils as it sniffed. up we sprang, and whooped and shouted and waved and threw sticks and stones into the brush. with another tremendous "whoof!" the bear wheeled, and went crashing through the brush as if it had a tin can tied to its tail. we all cheered and laughed. "jiminy! i ought to have tried a flashlight of it," exclaimed fitz, excited. "if we see another bear i'm sure going to get its picture. i need some bear pictures. don't let's be in such a hurry, next time." "that depends on the bear," said little jed smith. "sometimes you can't help being in a hurry, with a bear." "guess we'd better dig the burro out of our tent," remarked scout ward. "he smelled that bear, didn't he?" he certainly did. if there's one thing a burro is afraid of, it's a bear. no wonder poor apache tried to crawl in with us. we hauled him loose of the tent, and helped the red fox scouts set the tent up again. apache snorted and stared about; and finally he quieted a little and went to browsing, close by, and we scouts turned in to sleep again. when i woke the next time it was morning and the bear had not come back, for apache was standing fast asleep in the first rays of the sun, at the edge of the camp. we could catch no fish for breakfast. they paid no attention to any bait. so we had the last of the meat, and some condensed sausage that the red fox scouts contributed to the pot. during breakfast we held a council; old pilot peak stuck up so near and inviting. "i've been thinking, boys, that maybe we ought to climb pilot, for a record, now we've got a good chance," proposed major henry. "what do you say. shall we vote on it?" "how high is it?" asked red fox scout ward. major henry looked at the map of the state. "fourteen thousand, two hundred and ten feet." "whew!" scout ward eyed it. "we'd certainly like to make it. that would be a chance for an honor, eh, van?" "you bet," agreed van sant. "he's sure some mountain," we said. "we haven't any time to spare from the trail," went on major henry, "and it would kill a day, to the top and back. so we ought to double up by traveling by night, some. but that wouldn't hurt any; it would be fun, by moonlight. now, if you're ready, all who vote to take the red fox scouts and climb old pilot peak for a record hold up their right hands." "we won't vote. don't make the climb on our account," cried the red fox scouts. "let's do it. i've never been fourteen thousand feet, myself," declared fitz. and we all held up our right hands. "bueno," quoth major henry. "then we go. we'll climb pilot and put in extra time on the trail. cache the stuff, police the camp, put out the fire, take what grub we can in our pockets, and the sooner we start the better." maybe we ought not to have done this. our business was the message. we weren't out for fun or for honors. we were out to carry that message through in the shortest time possible. the climb was not necessary--and i for one had a sneaking hunch that we were making a mistake. but i had voted yes, and so had we all. if anybody had felt dubious, he ought to have voted no. in the next chapter you will read what we got, by fooling with a side issue. chapter xvii van sant's last cartridge the way to climb a mountain is not to tackle it by the short, steep way, but to go up by zigzags, through little gulches and passes. you arrive about as quick and you arrive easier. now from camp we eyed old pilot, calculating. major henry pointed. "we'll follow up that draw, first," he said. "then we can cross over to that ledge, and wind around and hit the long stretch, where the snow patches are. after that, i believe, we can go right on up." we had just rounded the lower end of the lake, and were obliquing off and up for the draw, when we heard a funny bawly screech behind us, and a clattering, and along at a gallop came apache, much excited, and at a trot joined our rear. he did not propose to be left alone! we were glad enough to have him, if he wanted to make the climb, too. he followed us all the way, eating things, and gained a scout mountain honor. we were traveling light, of course. fitz had his camera slung over his shoulder, red fox scout van sant had his twenty-two rifle, because we thought we might run into some grouse, and the law on grouse was out at last and we needed meat. nobody bothered with staffs. they're no good when you must use hands and knees all at once, as you do on some of the rocky mountains. they're a bother. we struck into the draw. it was shallow and bushy, with sarvice-berries and squaw-berries and gooseberries; but we didn't stop to eat. we let apache do the eating. our thought was to reach the very tip-top of pilot. the sun shone hot, making us sweat as we followed up through the draw, in single file, major henry leading, fitz next, then the red fox scouts, and we three others strung out behind, with apache closing the rear. the draw brought us out, as we had planned, opposite the ledge, and we swung off to this. now we were up quite high. we halted to take breath and puff. the ledge was broad and flat and grassy, with rimrock behind it; and from it we could look down upon the lake, far below, and the place of our camp, and the big timber through which we had trailed, and away in the distance was the mesa or plateau that we had crossed after the forest fire. we were above timber-line, and all around us were only sunshine and bareness, and warmth and nice clean smells. "whew!" sighed red fox scout ward. "it's fine, fellows." that was enough. we knew how he felt. we felt the same. but of course we weren't at the top, not by any means. major henry started again, on the upward trail. we followed along the ledge around the rimrock until we came to a little pass through. that brought us into a regular maze of big rocks, lying as if a chunk as big as a city block had dropped and smashed, scattering pieces all about. this spot didn't show from below. that is the way with mountains. they look smooth, but when you get up close they break out into hills and holes and rocks and all kinds of unexpected places, worse than measles. but among these jagged chunks we threaded, back and forth, always trying to push ahead, until suddenly red fox scout ward called, "i'm out!" and we went to him. so he was. that long, bare slope lay beyond, blotched with snow. the snow had not seemed much, from below; but now it was in large patches, with drifts so hard that we could walk on them. one drift was forty feet thick; it was lodged against a brow, and down its face was trickling black water, streaking it. this snow-bank away up here was the beginning of a river, and helped make the lake. we had spread out, with apache still behind. suddenly little jed called. "see the chickens?" he said. we went over. chirps were to be heard, and there among the drifts, on the gravelly slope, were running and pecking and squatting a lot of birds about like gray speckled brahmas. they were as tame as speckled brahmas, too. they had red eyes and whitish tails. "ptarmigan!" exclaimed fitz, and he began to take pictures. he got some first-class ones. red fox scout van sant never made a move to shoot any of them. they were so tame and barn-yardy. we were glad enough to let them live, away up here among the snowdrifts, where they seemed to like to be. it was their country, not ours--and they were plucky, to choose it. so we passed on. the slope brought us up to a wide moraine, i guess you'd call it, where great bowlders were heaped as thick as pebbles--bowlders and blocks as large as cottages. these had not looked to be much, either, from below. on the edge of them we halted, to look down and behind again. now we were much higher. the ledge was small and far, and the timber was small and farther, and the world was beginning to lie flat like a map. on the level with us were only a few other peaks, in the snowy medicine range. the pass itself was so low that we could scarcely make it out. to cross that bowlder moraine was a terrific job. we climbed and sprawled, and were now up, now down. it was a go-as-you-please. everywhere among the bowlders were whistling rock-rabbits, or conies. they were about the size of small guinea-pigs, and had short tails and round, flat bat ears plastered close to their heads. they had their mouths crammed full of dried grass, which they carried into their nests through crannies--putting away hay for the winter! it was mighty cheerful to have them so busy and greeting us, away up in these lonely heights, and fitz got some more good animal pictures. apache was in great distress. he couldn't navigate those bowlders. we could hear him "hee-hawing" on the lower edge, and could see him staring after us and racing frantically back and forth. but we must go on; we would pick him up on our way down. well, we got over the bowlder field--fitz as spryly as any of us. having only one good arm made no difference to him, and he never would accept help. he was independent, and we only kept an eye on him and let him alone. the bowlders petered out; and now ahead was another slope, with more snow patches, and short dead grass in little bunches; and it ended in a bare outcrop: the top! our feet weighed twenty-five pounds each, our knees were wobbly, we could hear each other pant, and my heart thumped so that the beats all ran together. but with a cheer we toiled hard for the summit, before resting. we didn't race--not at fourteen thousand feet; we weren't so foolish--and i don't know who reached it first. anyway, soon we all were there. we had climbed old pilot peak! the top was flat and warm and dry, so we could sit. the sky was close above; around about was nothing but the clear air. east, west, north and south, below us, were hills and valleys and timber and parks and streams, with the cloud-shadows drifting across. we didn't say one word. the right words didn't exist, somehow, and what was the use in exclaiming when we all felt alike, and could look and see for ourselves? you don't seem to amount to much when you are up, like this, on a mountain, near the sky, with the world spread out below and not missing you; and a boy's voice, or a man's, is about the size of a cricket's chirp. the silence is one of the best things you find. so we sat and looked and thought. but on a sudden we did hear a noise--a rattling and "hee-haw!" and here, from a different side, came apache again. he had got past those bowlders, somehow. with another "hee-haw!" he trotted right up on top, in amidst us, where he stood, with a big sigh, looking around, too. this was the chance for us to map out the country ahead, on the other side of the pass. so we took a good long survey. it was a rough country, as bad as that which we had left; with much timber and many hills and valleys. down in some of the valleys were yellow patches, like hay ranches, and forty or fifty miles away seemed to be a little haze of smoke, which must be a town: green valley, where we were bound! hurrah! but we hadn't got there, yet. major henry made a rough sketch of the country, with pilot peak as base point and a jagged, reddish tip, over toward the smoke, as another landmark. our course ought to be due west from pilot, keeping to the south of that reddish tip. we had a little lunch, and after cleaning up after ourselves we saluted the old peak with the scouts' cheer, saying good-by to it; and then we started down. we discovered that we could go around the bowlder-field, as apache had done. when we struck the snow-patch slope we obliqued over to our trail up, and began to back track. back-tracking was the safe way, because we knew that this would bring us out. down we went, with long steps, almost flying, and leaving behind us the busy conies and the tame ptarmigans, to inhabit the peak until we should come again. we even tried not to tramp on the flowers. (note 57.) through the maze of rock masses we threaded, and along the grassy ledge, and entered the bush draw. by the sun it was noon, but we had plenty of time, and we spread out in the draw, taking things easy and picking berries. we didn't know but what we might come upon some grouse, in here, too, for the trickle from that snow-bank drained through and there was a bunch of aspens toward the bottom. but instead we came upon a bear! i heard red fox scout ward call, sharp and excited: "look out, fellows! here's another bear!" that stopped us short. "where?" "right in front of me! he's eating berries. and i see another, too--sitting, looking at me." "wait!" called back fitz, excited. "let 'em alone. i'll get a picture." that was just like fitzpatrick. he wanted to take pictures of everything alive. "yes; let 'em alone," warned major henry, shouting. for that's all a bear in a berry-patch asks; to be let alone. he's satisfied with the berries. in fact, all a bear asks, anyway, is to be let alone, and up here on the mountain these bears weren't doing any harm. "where are you?" called fitz. "on this rock." now we could see scout ward, with hand up; and over hustled fitz, and over we all hustled, from different directions. they were not large bears. they looked like the little brown or black bears, it was hard to tell which; but the small kind isn't dangerous. they were across on the edge of a clearing, and were stripping the bushes. once in a while they would sit up and eye us, while slobbering down the berries; then they would go to eating again. fitz had his camera unslung and taken down. he walked right out, toward them, and snapped, but it wouldn't be a very good picture. they were too far to show up plainly. "i'll sneak around behind and drive them out," volunteered little jed smith; and without waiting for orders he and kit started, and we all except fitz spread out to help in the surround. fitz made ready to take them on the run. nobody is afraid of the little brown or black bear. jed and kit were just entering the bushes to make the circuit on their side, when we heard apache snorting and galloping, and a roar and a "whoof!" and out from the brush over there burst the burro, with another bear chasing him. this was no little bear. it was a great big bear--an old she cinnamon, and these others weren't the small brown or black bears, either: they were half-grown cinnamon cubs! how she came! kit carson and jed smith were right in her path. "look out!" we yelled. kit and little jed leaped to dodge. she struck like a cat as she passed, and head over heels went poor little jed, sprawling in the brush, and she passed on, straight to her cubs. they met her, and she smelled them for a moment. she lifted her broad, short head, and snarled. "don't do a thing," ordered major henry. "she'll leave." so we stood stock-still. that was all we _could_ do. we knew that poor little jed was lying perhaps badly wounded, off there in the brush, but it wouldn't help to call the old bear's attention to him again. in the open place fitzpatrick the bad hand stood; he was right in front of the old bear, and he was _taking pictures_! the old bear saw him, and he and the camera seemed to make her mad. maybe she took it for a weapon. she lowered her head, swung it to and fro, her bristles rose still higher, and across the open space she started. "fitz!" we shrieked. and i said to myself, sort of crying: "oh, jiminy!" we all set up a tremendous yell, but that didn't turn her. major henry jumped forward, and tugged to pull loose a stone. i looked for a stone to throw. of course i couldn't find one. then out of the corner of my eye, while i was watching fitz, too, i glimpsed red fox scout van sant coming running, and shooting with his twenty-two. the bullets spatted into the bear's hide, and stung her. "run, fitz!" called van sant. "i'll stop her." but he didn't, yet. hardly! that fitz had just been winding his film. he took the camera from between his knees, where he had held it while he used his one hand, and he leveled it like lightning, on the old bear--and took her picture again. that picture won a prize, after we got back to civilization. but the old bear kept coming. we all were shouting, in vain,--shouting all kinds of things. red fox scout van sant sprang to fitz's side, and again we heard him say: "run, fitz! over here. make for the rock. i'll stop her." it was the outcrop where ward had been. fitz jumped to make for it. he hugged his camera as he ran. we thought that van sant would make for it, too. but he let fitz pass him, and he stood. the old bear was coming, crazy. she only halted to scratch where a twenty-two pellet had stung her hide. van sant waited, steady as a rock. he lifted his little rifle slowly and held on her, and just as she was about to reach him he fired. "crack!" headfirst she plunged. she kicked and ripped the ground, and didn't get up again. she lay still, amidst a silence, we all watching, breathless. beyond, fitzpatrick had closed his precious camera as he ran, and now at the rock had turned. "shoot her again, van!" begged scout ward. "i can't," he answered. "that was my last cartridge. but she's dead. i hit her in the eye." and he lowered his rifle. then we gave a great cheer, and rushed for the spot--except major henry; he was the first to think and he rushed to see to little jed smith. fitzpatrick shook hands hard with red fox scout van sant and followed the major. yes, the old bear was stone dead. van sant had shot her through the eye, into the brain. that was enough. ward and i shook hands with him, too. he had shown true scouts' nerve, to sail in in that way, and to meet the danger and to be steady under fire. "oh, well, i was the only one who could do anything," he explained. "i knew it was my last cartridge and i had to make it count. that's all." then we hurried down to where the major and fitz and kit carson were gathered about little jed. jed wasn't dead. no; we could see him move. and fitz called: "he's all right. but his shoulder's out and his leg is torn." little jed was pale but game. his right arm hung dangling and useless, and his right calf was bloody. the whole arm hung dangling because the shoulder was hurt; but it was not a fractured collarbone, for when we had laid open jed's shirt we could feel and see. the shoulder was out of shape, and commencing to swell, and the arm hung lower than the well arm. (note 58.) we let the wound of the calf go, for we must get at this dislocation, before the shoulder was too sore and rigid. we knew what to do. jed was stretched on his back, red fox scout ward sat at his head, steadying him around the body, and with his stockinged heel under jed's armpit major henry pulled down on the arm and shoved up against it with his heel at the same time. that hurt. jed turned very white, and let out a big grunt--but we heard a fine snap, and we knew that the head of the arm-bone had chucked back into the shoulder-socket where it belonged. so that was over; and we were glad,--jed especially. we bound his arm with a handkerchief sling across to the other shoulder, to keep the joint in place for a while, and we went at his leg. the old bear's paw had cuffed him on the shoulder and then must have slipped down and landed on his calf as he sprawled. the boot-top had been ripped open and the claws had cut through into the flesh, tearing a set of furrows. it was a bad-looking wound and was bleeding like everything. but the blood was just the ordinary oozy kind, and so we let it come, to clean the wound well. then we laid some sterilized gauze from our first-aid outfit upon it, to help clot the blood, and sifted borax over, and bound it tight with adhesive plaster, holding the edges of the furrows together. over that we bound on loosely a dry pack of other gauze. we left jed (who was pale but thankful) with red fox scout ward and went up to the bear. kit carson wanted to see her. she was still dead, and off on the edge of the brush her two cubs were sniffing in her direction, wondering and trying to find out. yes, that had been a nervy stand made by scout van sant, and a good shot. fitzpatrick reached across and shook his hand again. "i don't know whether i stopped to thank you, but it's worth doing twice. i'm much obliged." "don't mention it," laughed van sant. then we all laughed. that was better. there isn't much that can be said, when you feel a whole lot. but you _know_, just the same. and we all were scouts. somehow, the big limp body of the old mother bear now made us sober. we hadn't intended to kill her, and of course she was only protecting her cubs. it wasn't our mountain; and it wasn't our berry-patch. she had discovered it first. we had intruded on her, not she on us. it all was a misunderstanding. so we didn't gloat over her, or kick her, or sit upon her, now that she could not defend herself. but we must do some quick thinking. "kit carson, you and bridger catch apache," ordered major henry. "fitz and i will help scout van sant skin his bear." "she's not my bear," said scout van sant. "i won't take her. she belongs to all of us." "well," continued major henry, "it's a pity just to let her lie and to waste her. we can use the meat." "the pelt's no good, is it?" asked fitz. "not much, in the summer. but we'll take it off, and put the meat in it, to carry." they set to work. kit carson and i started after the burro. he had run off, up the mountain again, and we couldn't catch him. he was too nervous. we'd get close to him, and with a snort and a toss of his ears he would jump away and fool us. that was very aggravating. "if we only had a rope we could rope him," said kit. but we didn't. there was no profit in chasing a burro all over a mountain, and so, hot and tired, we went back and reported. the old bear had been skinned and butchered, after a fashion. the head was left on the hide, for the brains. at first major henry talked of sending down to camp for a blanket and making a litter out of it. we would have hard work to carry jed in our arms. but jed was weak and sick and didn't want to wait for the blanket. apache would have been a big help, only he was so foolish. but we had a scheme. scouts always manage. (note 59.) we made a litter of the bear-pelt! down we scurried to the aspens and found two dead sticks. we stuck one through holes in the pelt's fore legs, and one through holes in the pelt's hind legs, and tied the legs about with cord. we set little jed in the hair side, facing the bear's head, turned back over; the major, the two red fox scouts, and kit carson took each an end of the sticks; fitzpatrick and i carried the meat, stuck on sticks, over our shoulders; and in a procession like cave-men or trappers returning from a hunt we descended the mountain, leaving death and blood where we had intended to leave only peace as we had found it. apache made a big circuit to follow us. the two cubs sneaked forward, to sniff at the bones where their mother had been cut up--and began to eat her. we were glad to know that they did not feel badly yet, and that they were old enough to take care of themselves. but as we stumbled and tugged, carrying wounded jed down the draw, we knew plainly that we ought to have let that mountain alone. [illustration: "like cave-men or trappers returning from a hunt we descended."] chapter xviii fitz the bad hand's good throw that green bear-pelt and jed together were almost too heavy, so that we went slow and careful and stopped often, to rest us. the sun was setting when at last we got down to camp again--and we arrived, a very different party from that which had gone out twelve hours before. it was a sorry home-coming. but we must not lament or complain over what was our own fault. we must do our best to turn it to account. we must be scouts. we made jed comfortable on a blanket bed. his leg we let alone, as the bandage seemed to be all right. and his shoulder we of course let alone. then we took stock. major henry decided very quickly. "jed can't travel. he will have to stay here till his wounds heal more, and kit carson will have to stay with him. i'd stay, instead, because i'm to blame for wasting some men and some time; but the general passed the command on to me and i ought to go as far as i possibly can. we'll fix kit and jed the best we're able, and to-morrow we'll hustle on and make night marches, if we need to." this was sense. anyway, although we had wasted men and time, we were now stocked up with provisions; all that bear meat! while fitzpatrick and red fox scout ward were cooking supper and poor jed looked on, two of us went at the meat to cut it into strips for jerking, and two of us stretched the pelt to grain it before it dried. we cut the meat into the strips and piled them until we could string them to smoke and dry them. we then washed for supper, because we were pretty bloody with the work of cutting. after supper, by moonlight, we strung the strips with a sailor's needle and cord which the red fox scouts had in their kit, and erected a scaffolding of four fork-sticks with two other sticks laid across at the ends. we stretched the strings of meat in lines, back and forth. next thing was to make a smudge under and to lay a tarp over to hold the smudge while the meat should smoke. (note 60.) pine smoke is no good, because it is so strong. alder makes a fine sweet smoke, but we didn't have any alder, up here. we used aspen, as the next best thing at hand. and by the time we had the pelt grained and the meat strung and had toted enough aspen, we were tired. but somebody must stay awake, to tend to jed and give him a drink and keep him company, and to watch the smudge, that it didn't flame up too fierce and that it didn't go out. by smoking and drying the meat all night and by drying it in the sun afterward, major henry thought that it would be ready so that we could take our share along with us. if we had that, then we would not need to stop to hunt, and we could make short camps, as we pleased. you see, we had only four days in which to deliver the message; and we had just reached the pass! this was a kind of miserable night. jed of course had a bed to himself, which used up blankets. the others of us stood watch an hour and a half each, over him and over the smudge. he was awful restless, because his leg hurt like sixty, and none of us slept very well, after the excitement. i was sleepiest when the time came for us to get up. we had breakfast, of bear steak and bread or biscuits and gravy. the meat we were jerking seemed to have been smoked splendidly. the tarp was smoked, anyhow. we took it off and aired it, and left the strips as they were, to dry some more in the sun. they were dark, and quite stiff and hard, and by noon they were brittle as old leather. the hide was dry, too, and ready for working over with brains and water, and for smoking. (note 61.) but we left that to kit. now we must take the trail again. we spent the morning fussing, and making the cabin tight for jed and kit; at last the meat had been jerked so that our share would keep, and we had done all that we could, and we were in shape to carry the message on over the pass and down to green valley. "all right," spoke major henry, after dinner. "let's be off. scout carson, we leave scout smith in your charge. you and he stay right here until he's able to travel. then you can follow over the pass and hit green valley, or you can back-track for the ranger's cabin and for home. apache will come in soon and you'll have him to pack out with. you'll be entitled to just as much honor by bringing jed out safe as we will by carrying the message. isn't that so, boys?" "sure," we said. but naturally kit hated to stay behind. only, somebody must; it was scouts' duty. we all shook hands with him and with wounded jed (who hated staying, too), and said "adios," and started off. apache had not appeared, and we were to pack our own outfit. we left jed and kit enough meat and all the flour (which wasn't much) and what other stuff we could spare (they had the bearskin to use for bedding as soon as it was tanned) and one rope and our twenty-two rifle, and the ranger's fry-pan and two cups, and we divided among us what we could carry. "now we've got three days and a half to get through in," announced major henry. we counted the days on the trail to make sure. yes, three days and a half. "and besides, these red fox scouts must catch a train in time to make connections for that yellowstone trip. we've put in too much time, and i think we ought to travel by night as well as by day, for a while." "short sleeps and long marches; that's my vote," said fitz. "don't do it on our account," put in the red fox scouts. "but we're game. we'll travel as fast as you want to." so we decided. and now only three elk scouts, instead of six, and two red fox scouts, again we took the long trail. in the ranger's cabin behind was our gallant leader general ashley, and in this other cabin by the lake were jed smith and kit carson. thus our ranks were being thinned. we followed the trail from the lake and struck the old indian trail again, leading over the pass. about the middle of the afternoon we were at the pass itself. it was wide and smooth and open and covered with gravel and short grass and little low flowers like daisies. on either side were brownish red jagged peaks and rimrock faces, specked with snow. the wind blew strong and cold. there were many sheep-tracks, where bands had been trailed over, for the low country or for the summer range. it was a wild, desolate region, with nothing moving except ourselves and a big hawk high above; but we pressed on fast, in close order, our packs on our backs, major henry leading. and we were lonesome without kit and jed. old pilot peak gradually sank behind us; the country before began to spread out into timber and meadow and valley. pretty soon we caught up with a little stream. it flowed in the same direction that we were going, and we knew that we were across the pass and that we were on the other side of the medicine range, at last! hurrah! we were stepping long, down-hill. we came to dwarf cedars, and buck brush, showing that we were getting lower. and at a sudden halt by the major, in a nice golden twilight we threw off our packs and halted for supper beside the stream, among some aspens--the first ones. about an hour after sunset the moon rose, opposite--a big round moon, lighting everything so that travel would be easy. we had stocked up on the jerked bear-meat, roasted on sharp sticks, and on coffee from the cubes that the red fox scouts carried, and we were ready. the jerked bear-meat was fine and made us feel strong. so now major henry stood, and swung his pack; and we all stood. "let's hike," he said. that was a beautiful march. the air was crisp and quiet, the moon mounted higher, flooding the country with silver. once in a while a coyote barked. the rabbits all were out, hopping in the shine and shadow. we saw a snowshoe kind, with its big hairy feet. we saw several porcupines, and an owl as large as a buzzard. this was a different world from that of day, and it seemed to us that people miss a lot of things by sleeping. our course was due west, by the north star. we were down off the pass, and had struck a valley, with meadow and scattered pines, and a stream rippling through, and the moonlight lying white and still. in about three hours we came upon sign of another camp, where somebody had stopped and had made a fire and had eaten. there were burro tracks here, so that it might have been a prospectors' camp; and there was an empty tin can like a large coffee can. "i think we had better rest again," said major henry. "we can have a snack and a short sleep." we didn't cook any meat. we weren't going to take out any of the red fox dishes, but fitz started to fill the tin can with water, to make soup in that. it was red fox scout ward who warned us. "here," he objected. "do you think we ought to do that? you know sometimes a tin can gives off poison when you cook in it." "and we don't know what was in this can," added van sant. "we don't want to get ptomaine poisoning. i'd rather unpack ten packs than run any risk." that was sense. the can _looked_ clean, inside, and the idea of being made sick by it hadn't occurred to us elks. but we remembered, now, some things that we'd read. so we kicked the can to one side, that nobody else should use it, and fitz made the soup in a regulation dish from the red fox aluminum kit. (note 62.) we drank the soup and each chewed a slice of the bear-meat cold. it was sweet and good, and the soup helped out. then we rolled in our blankets and went to sleep. we all had it on our minds to wake in four hours, and the mind is a regular clock if you train it. i woke just about right, according to the stars. the two stars in the bottom of the little dipper, that we used for an hour hand, had been exactly above a pointed spruce, when i had dozed off, and now when i looked they had moved about three feet around the pole star. while i lay blinking and warm and comfortable, and not thinking of anything in particular, i heard a crackle of sticks and the scratch of a match. and there squatting on the edge of a shadow was somebody already up and making a fire. "is that you, fitz?" asked major henry. "yes. you fellows lie still a few seconds longer and i'll have some tea for you." good old fitz! he need not have done that. he had not been ordered to. but it was a thoughtful scout act--and was a fitz act, to boot. scouts ward and van sant were awake now; and we all lay watching fitz, and waiting, as he had asked us to. then when we saw him put in the tea-"levez!" spoke major henry; which is the old trapper custom. "levez! get up!" (note 63.) up we sprang, into the cold, and with our blankets about our shoulders, indian fashion, we each drank a good swig of hot tea. then we washed our faces, and packed our blankets, and took the trail. it was about three in the morning. the moon was halfway down the west, and the air was chill and had that peculiar feel of just before morning. everything was ghostly, as we slipped along, but a few birds were twittering sleepily. once a coyote crossed our path--stopped to look back at us, and trotted away again. gradually the east began to pale; there were fewer stars along that horizon than along the horizon where the moon was setting. the burro tracks were plain before us, in the trail that led down the valley. the trail inclined off to the left, or to the south of west; but we concluded to follow it because we could make better time and we believed that the railroad lay in that direction. the red fox scouts ought to be taken as near to the railroad as possible, before we left them. they had been mighty good to us. the moon sank, soon the sun would be up; the birds were moving as well as chirping, the east was brightening, and already the tip of pilot peak, far away behind us with kit and jed sleeping at his base, was touched with pink, when we came upon a camp. red fox scout van sant, who was leading, suddenly stopped short and lifted his hand in warning. before, in a bend of the stream that we were skirting, among the pines and spruces beside it was a lean-to, with a blackened fire, and two figures rolled in blankets; and back from the stream a little way, across in an open grassy spot, was a burro. it had been grazing, but now it was eying us with head and ears up. red fox scout van had sighted the burro first and next, of course, the lean-to camp. we stood stock-still, surveying. "cache!" whispered major henry (which means "hide"); and we stepped softly aside into the brush. for that burro looked very much like sally, who had been taken from us by the two recruits when they had stolen apache also--and by the way that the figures were lying, under a lean-to, they might be the renegade recruits themselves. it was a hostile camp! "what is it?" whispered red fox scout ward, his eyes sparkling. "enemy?" "i think so," murmured major henry. "we can pass." "sure. but if that's our burro we ought to take her." and the major explained. the red foxes nodded. "but if she isn't, then we don't want her. one of us ought to reconnoiter." and the major hesitated. "fitz, you go," he said. and this rather surprised me, because naturally the major ought to have gone himself, he being the leader. "i've got a side-ache, somehow," he added, apologizing. "it isn't much--but it might interfere with my crawling." fitz was only too ready to do the stalking. he left his pack, and with a dã©tour began sneaking upon the lean-to. we watched, breathless. but the figures never stirred. fitz came out, opposite, and from bush to bush and tree to tree he crept nearer and nearer, with little darts from cover to cover; and at last very cautiously, on his hands and knees; and finally wriggling on his belly like a snake. 'twas fine stalking, and we were glad that the red fox scouts were here to see. but it seemed to us that fitz was getting too near. however, the figures did not move, and did not know--and now fitz was almost upon them. from behind a tree only a yard away from them he stretched his neck and peered, for half a minute. then he crawled backward, and disappeared. presently he was with us again. "it's they, sir," he reported. "bat and walt. they're asleep. and that is sally, i'm certain. i know her by the white spot on her back." "we must have her," said the major. "she's ours. we'll get her and pack her, so we can travel better." "can we catch her, all right?" queried red fox scout van sant. "we're liable to wake those two fellows up, aren't we?" "what if we do?" put in his partner, scout ward. "three of us can guard them, and the other two can chase the burro." "no," said major henry. "i think we can rope her and be off before those renegades know anything about it. can you, fitz?" fitz nodded, eager. "then take the rope, and go after her." fitz did. he was a boss roper, too. you wouldn't believe it, of a one-armed boy, but it was so. all we elk scouts could throw a rope some. a rope comes in pretty handy, at times. most range horses have to be caught in the corral with a rope, and knowing how to throw a rope will pull a man out of a stream or out of a hole and will perhaps save his life. but fitz was our prize roper, because he had practiced harder than any of us, to make up for having only one arm. the way he did was to carry the coil on his stump, and the lash end in his teeth; and when he had cast, quick as lightning he took the end from between his teeth ready to haul on it. major henry might have gone, himself, to get the credit and to show what he could do; but he showed his sense by resigning in favor of fitz. so now at the command fitz took the rope from him and shook it out and re-coiled it nicely. then, carrying it, he sneaked through the trees, and crossed the creek, farther up, wading to his ankles, and advanced upon sally. sally divided her attention between him and us, and finally pricked her ears at him alone. she knew what was being tried. coming out into the open space fitz advanced slower and slower, step by step. he had his rope ready--the coil was on his stump, and the lash end was in his teeth, and the noose trailed by his side, from his good hand. we glanced from him and sally to the lean-to, and back again, for the campers were sleeping peacefully. if only they would not wake and spoil matters. sally held her head high, suspicious and interested. fitz did not dare to speak to her; he must trust that she would give him a chance at her before she escaped into the trees where roping would be a great deal harder. we watched. my heart beat so that it hurt. having that burro meant a lot to us, for those packs were heavy--and it was a point of honor, too, that we recapture our own. here was our chance. fitz continued to trail his noose. he didn't swing it. sally watched him, and we watched them both. he was almost close enough, was fitz, to throw. a few steps more, and something would happen. but sally concluded not to wait. she tossed her head, and with a snort turned to trot away. and suddenly fitz, in a little run and a jerk, threw with all his might. straight and swift the noose sailed out, opening into an "o," and dragging the rope like a tail behind it. fitz had grabbed the lash end from between his teeth, and was running forward, to make the cast cover more ground. it was a beautiful noose and well aimed. before it landed we saw that it was going to land right. just as it fell sally trotted square into it, and it dropped over her head. she stopped short and cringed, but she was too late. fitz had sprung back and had hauled hard. it drew tight about her neck, and she was caught. she knew it, and she stood still, with an inquiring gaze around. she knew better than to run on the rope and risk being thrown or choked. hurrah! we would have cheered--but we didn't dare. we only shook hands all round and grinned; and in a minute came fitz, leading her to us. she was meek enough, but she didn't seem particularly glad to see us. we patted fitz on the back and let him know that we appreciated him. he had only the one throw, but that had been enough. it was like van's last cartridge. chapter xix major henry says "ouch" the sun was just peeping above the medicine range that we had crossed, when we led sally away, back through the brush and around to strike the trail beyond the lean-to camp. after we had gone about half a mile major henry posted me as a rear-guard sentry, to watch the trail, and he and the other scouts continued on until it was safe to stop and pack the burro. the two renegade recruits did not appear. probably they were still sleeping, with the blankets over their faces to keep out the light! in about half an hour i was signaled to come on, and when i joined the party sally had been packed with the squaw hitch and now we could travel light again. i tell you, it was a big relief to get those loads transferred to sally. even the red foxes were glad to be rid of theirs. things looked bright. we were over the range; we had this stroke of luck, in running right upon sally; the trail was fair; and the way seemed open. it wouldn't be many hours now before the red fox scouts could branch off for the railroad, and get aboard a train so as to make salt lake in time to connect with their party for the grand trip, and we elks had three days yet in which to deliver the message to the mayor of green valley. for two or three hours we traveled as fast as we could, driving sally and stepping on her tracks so as to cover them. we felt so good over our prospects--over being upon the open way and winning out at last--that we struck up songs: "oh, the elk is our medicine; he makes us very strong--" for us; and: "oh, the red fox is our medicine--" for the red fox scouts. and we sang: "it's honor flag and country dear, and hold them in the van; it's keep your lungs and conscience clean, your body spick and span; it's 'shoulders squared,' and 'be prepared,' and always 'play the man': shouting the boy scouts forev-er! hurrah! hurrah! for we're the b. s. a.! hurrah! hurrah! we're ready, night and day! you'll find us in the city street and on the open way! shouting the boy scouts forev-er!" but at the beginning of the second verse major henry suddenly quit and sat down upon a log, where the trail wound through some timber. "i've got to stop a minute, boys," he gasped. "go ahead. i'll catch up with you." but of course we didn't. his face was white and wet, his lips were pressed tight as he breathed hard through his nose, and he doubled forward. "what's the matter?" "i seem to have a regular dickens of a stomach-ache," he grunted. "almost makes me sick." that was serious, when major henry gave in this way. we remembered that back on the trail when we had sighted sally he had spoken of a "side-ache" and had sent fitzpatrick to do the reconnoitering; but he had not spoken of it again and here we had been traveling fast with never a whimper from him. we had supposed that his side-ache was done. instead, it had been getting worse. "maybe you'd better lie flat," suggested red fox scout ward. "or try lying on your side." "i'll be all right in a minute," insisted the major. "we can all move off the trail, and have breakfast," proposed fitz. "that will give him a chance to rest. we ought to have something to eat, anyway." so we moved back from the trail, around a bend of the creek. the major could scarcely walk, he was so doubled over with cramps; scout ward and i stayed by to help him. but there was not much that we could do, in such a case. he leaned on us some, and that was all. he tried lying on his side, while we unpacked sally; and then we got him upon a blanket, with a roll for a pillow. red fox scout van sant hustled to the creek with a cup, and fixed up a dose. "here," he said to the major, "swallow this." "what is it?" "ginger. it ought to fix you out." so it ought. the major swallowed it--and it was so hot it made the tears come into his eyes. in a moment he thought that he did feel better, and we were glad. we went ahead with breakfast, but he didn't eat anything, which was wise. a crampy stomach won't digest food and then you are worse. we didn't hurry him, after breakfast. we knew that as soon as he could travel, he would. but we found that his feeling better wasn't lasting. now that the burning of the ginger had worn off, he was as bad as ever. we were mighty sorry for him, as he turned and twisted, trying to find an easier position. a stomach-ache like that must have been is surely hard to stand. fitz got busy. fitzpatrick is pretty good at doctoring. he wants to be a doctor, some day. and the red fox scouts knew considerable about first-aids and simple scouts' remedies. "what kind of an ache is it, tom?" queried fitz. we were too bothered to call him "major." "sharp? or steady?" "it's a throbby ache. keeps right at the job, though," grunted the major. "where?" "here." and the major pointed to the pit of his stomach, below the breast-bone. "it's a funny ache, too. i can't seem to strike any position that it likes." "it isn't sour and burning, is it?" asked red fox scout ward. "uh uh. it's a green-apple ache, or as if i'd swallowed a corner of a brick." we had to laugh. still, that ache wasn't any laughing matter. "do you feel sick?" "just from the pain." "we all ate the same, and we didn't drink out of that tin can, so it can't be poison, and it doesn't sound like just indigestion," mused fitz to us. "maybe we ought to give him an emetic. shall we, tom?" "i don't think i need any emetic. there's nothing there," groaned the major. "maybe i've caught cold. i guess the cramps will quit. wish i had a hot-water bag or a hot brick." "we'll heat water and lay a hot compress on. that will help," spoke red fox scout van sant. "ought to have thought of it before." "wait a minute, boys," bade fitz. "lie still as long as you can, tom, while i feel you." he unbuttoned the major's shirt (the major had taken off his belt and loosened his waist-band, already) and began to explore about with his fingers. "the ache's up here," explained the major. "up in the middle of my stomach." "but is it sore anywhere else?" asked fitz, pressing about. "say ouch." the major said ouch. "sore right under there?" queried fitz. the major nodded. we noted where fitz was pressing with his fingers--and suddenly it flashed across me what he was finding out. the _ache_ was in the pit of the stomach, but the _sore spot_ was lower and down toward the right hip. fitz experimented here and there, not pressing very hard; and he always could make the major say ouch, for the one spot. "i believe he's got appendicitis," announced fitz, gazing up at us. "it looks that way, sure," agreed red fox scout van sant. "my brother had appendicitis, and that's how they went to work on him." "my father had it, is how i knew about it," explained fitz. "aw, thunder!" grunted the major. "it's just a stomach-ache." he hated to be fussed with. "i'll get over it. a hot-water bag is all i need." "no, you don't," spoke fitz, quickly--as red fox scout ward was stirring the fire. "hot water would be dangerous, and if it's appendicitis we shan't take any risks. they use an ice-pack in appendicitis. we'll put on cold water instead of hot, and i'm going to give him a good stiff dose of epsom salts. i'm afraid to give him anything else." that sounded like sense, except that the cold water instead of the hot was something new. and it was queer that if the major's appendix was what caused the trouble the ache should be off in the middle of his stomach. but fitz was certain that he was right, and so we went ahead. the treatment wasn't the kind to do any harm, even if we were wrong in the theory. the epsom salts would clean out most disturbances, and help reduce any inflammation. (note 64.) the major was suffering badly. to help relieve him, we discussed which was worse, tooth-ache or stomach-ache. the red foxes took the tooth-ache side and we elks the stomach-ache side; and we won, because the major put in his grunts for the stomach-ache. we piled a wet pack of handkerchiefs and gauze on his stomach, over the right lower angle, where the appendix ought to be; and we changed it before it got warmed. the water from the creek was icy cold. we kept at it, and after a while the major was feeling much better. and now he began to chafe because he was delaying the march. it was almost noon. the two renegade recruits had not come along yet. they might not come at all; they might be looking around for sally, without sense enough to read the sign. but the major was anxious to be pushing on again. "i don't think you ought to," objected fitz. "but i'm all right." "you may not be, if you stir around much," said red fox scout ward. "what do you want me to do? lie here for the rest of my life?" the major was cross. "no; but you ought to be carried some place where you can have a doctor, if it's appendicitis." "i don't believe it is. it's just a sort of colic. i'm all right now, if we go slowly." "but don't you think that we'd better find some place where we can take you?" asked fitz. "you fellows leave me, then, and go on. somebody will come along, or i'll follow slow. those red foxes must get to their train, and you two elks must carry the message through on time." "not much!" exclaimed both the red foxes, indignant. "what kind of scouts do you think we are? you'll need more than two men, if there's much carrying to be done. we stick." "so do we," chimed in fitz and i. "we'll get the message through, and get you through, too." the major flushed and stood up. "if that's the way you talk," he snapped (he was the black-eyed, quick kind, you know), "then i order that this march be resumed. pack the burro. i order it." "you'd better ride." "i'll walk." well, he was our leader. we should obey, as long as he seemed capable. he was awfully stubborn, the major was, when he had his back up. but we exchanged glances, and we must all have thought the same: that if he was taken seriously again soon, and was laid out, we would try to persuade him to let us manage for him. fitz only said quietly: "but if you have to quit, you'll quit, won't you, tom? you won't keep going, just to spite yourself. real appendicitis can't be fooled with." "i'll quit," he answered. we packed sally again, and started on. the major seemed to want to hike at the regulation fast scouts' pace, but we held him in the best that we could. anyway, after we had gone three or four miles, he was beginning to pant and double over; his pain had come back. "i think i'll have to rest a minute," he said; and he sat down. "go ahead. i'll catch up. you'd better take the message, fitz. here." "no, sir," retorted fitz. "if you think that we're going on and leave you alone, sick, you're off your base. this is a serious matter, tom. it wouldn't be decent, and it wouldn't be scout-like. the red foxes ought to go--" "but we won't," they interrupted-"--and we'll get you to some place where you can be attended to. then we'll take the message, if you can't. there's plenty of time." the major flushed and fidgeted, and fingered the package. "maybe i can ride, then," he offered. "we can cache more stuff and i'll ride sally." he grunted and twisted as the pain cut him. he looked ghastly. "he ought to lie quiet till we can take him some place and find a doctor," said red fox scout van sant, emphatically. "there must be a ranch or a town around here." "we'll ask this man coming," said fitz. the stream had met another, here, and so had the trail; and down the left-hand trail was riding at a little cow-pony trot a horseman. he was a cow-puncher. he wore leather chaps and spurs and calico shirt and flapping-brimmed drab slouch hat. when he reached us he reined in and halted. he was a middle-aged man, with freckles and sandy mustache. "howdy?" he said. "howdy?" we answered. "ain't seen any big w cattle, back along the trail, have you?" no, we hadn't--until suddenly i remembered. "we saw some about ten days ago, on the other side of the divide." "whereabouts?" "on a mesa, northwest across the ridge from dixon park." "good eye," he grinned. "i heard some of our strays had got over into that country, but i wasn't sure." we weren't here to talk cattle, though; and fitz spoke up: "where's the nearest ranch, or town?" "the nearest town is shenandoah. that's on the railroad about eight miles yonder. follow the right-hand trail and you'll come out on a wagon-road that takes you to it. but there's a ranch three miles up the valley by this other trail. sick man?" the cow-puncher had good eyes, too. "yes. we want a doctor." "ain't any doctor at shenandoah. that's nothing but a station and a store and a couple of houses. i expect the nearest doctor is the one at the mines." "where's that?" "fifteen miles into the hills, from the ranch." "how far is green valley?" asked the major, weakly. "twenty-three or four miles, by this trail i come along. same trail you take to the ranch. no doctor now at green valley, though. the one they had went back east." "then you let the red fox scouts take me to the station and put me on the train for somewhere, and they can catch their own train; and you two fellows go ahead to green valley," proposed the major to fitz. "ain't another train either way till to-morrow morning," said the cow-puncher. "they meet at shenandoah, usually--when they ain't late. if you need a doctor, quickest way would be to make the ranch and ride to the mines and get him. what's the matter?" "we don't know, for sure. appendicitis, we think." "wouldn't monkey with it," advised the cow-puncher. "then the red foxes can hit for the railroad and fitz and jim and i'll make the ranch," insisted the major. "we won't," spoke up red fox scout ward, flatly. "we'll go with you to the ranch. we'll see this thing through. the railroad can wait." "well," said the cow-puncher, "you can't miss it. so long, and good luck." "so long," we answered. he rode on, and we looked at the major. "i suppose we ought to get you there as quick as we can," said fitz, slowly. "do you want to ride, or try walking again, or shall we carry you?" "i'm better now," declared our plucky corporal. he stood up. "i'll walk, i guess. it isn't far." so we set out, cautiously. no, it wasn't far--but it seemed _mighty_ far. the major would walk a couple of hundred yards, and then he must rest. the pain doubled him right over. we took some of the stuff off sally, and lifted him on top, but he couldn't stand that, either, very long. we tried a chair of our hands, but that didn't suit. "i'll skip ahead and see if i can bring back a wagon, from the ranch," volunteered red fox scout van sant; and away he ran. "you wait," he called back, over his shoulder. we waited, and kept a cold pack on the major. in about an hour and a half van came panting back. "there isn't any wagon," he gasped. "nobody at the ranch except two women. men folks have gone and taken the wagon with them." that was hard. we skirmished about, and made a litter out of one of our blankets and two pieces of driftwood that we fished from the creek; and carrying the major, with sally following, we struck the best pace that we could down the trail. he was heavy, and we must stop often to rest ourselves and him; and we changed the cold packs. at evening we toiled at last into the ranch yard. it had not been three miles: it had been a good long four miles. chapter xx a forty-mile ride the ranch was only a small log shack, of two rooms, with corral and sheds and hay-land around it; it wasn't much of a place, but we were glad to get there. smoke was rising from the stove-pipe chimney. as we drew up, one of the women looked out of the kitchen door, and the other stood in a shed with a milk-pail in her hand. the woman in the doorway was the mother; the other was the daughter. they were regular ranch women, hard workers and quick to be kind in an emergency. this was an emergency, for major henry was about worn out. "fetch him right in here," called the mother; and the daughter came hurrying. we carried him into a sleeping room, and laid him upon the bed there. he had been all grit, up till now; but he quit and let down and lay there with eyes closed, panting. "what is it?" they asked anxiously. "he's sick. we think it's appendicitis." "oh, goodness!" they exclaimed. "what can we give him?" "nothing. where can we get a doctor?" "the mines is the nearest place, if he's there. that's twenty miles." "but a man we met said it was fifteen." "you can't follow that trail. it's been washed out. you'll have to take the other trail, around by the head of cooper creek." "can we get a saddle-horse here?" "there are two in the corral; but i don't know as you can catch 'em. they're used to being roped." "we'll rope them." the major groaned. he couldn't help it. "it's all right, old boy," soothed fitz. "we'll have the doctor in a jiffy." "don't bother about me," gasped the major, without opening his eyes. "go on through." "you hush," we all retorted. "we'll do both: have you fixed up and get through, too." the major fidgeted and complained weakly. "one of us had better be catching the horses, hadn't we?" suggested red fox scout ward. "van and i'll go for the doctor." "no, you won't," said i. "i'll go. fitz ought to stay. i know trails pretty well." "then either van or i'll go with you. two would be better than one." "i'm going," declared van sant. "you stay here with fitz, hal." that was settled. we didn't delay to dispute over the matter. there was work and duty for all. "you be learning the trail, then," directed fitz. "i'll be catching the horses." "you'll find a rope on one of the saddles in the shed," called the daughter. fitz made for it; that was quicker than unpacking sally and getting our own rope. scout ward went along to help. we tried to ease the major. "you should have something to eat," exclaimed the women. we said "no"; but they bustled about, hurrying up their own supper, which was under way when we arrived. while they bustled they fired questions at us; who we were, and where we had come from, and where we were going, and all. the major seemed kind of light-headed. he groaned and wriggled and mumbled. the message was on his mind, and the red fox scouts, and the fear that neither would get through in time. he kept trying to pass the message on to us; so finally i took it. "all right. i've got it, major," i told him. "we'll carry it on. we can make green valley easy, from here. we'll start as soon as we can. to-morrow's sunday, anyway. you go to sleep." that half-satisfied him. we found that we couldn't eat much. we drank some milk, and stuffed down some bread and butter; and by that time fitz and scout ward had the horses led out. we heard the hoofs, and in came ward, to tell us. "horses are ready," he announced. out we went. no time was to be lost. they even had saddled them--fitz working with his one hand! so all we must do was to climb on. the women had told us the trail, and they had given us an old heavy coat apiece. nights are cold, in the mountains. "you know how, do you?" queried fitz of me. "yes." "that gray horse is the easiest," called one of the women, from the door. "let jim take it, then," spoke van. but i had got ahead of him by grabbing the bay. "jim is used to riding," explained fitz. "so am i," answered van. "not these saddles, van," put in ward. "they're different. the stirrups of the gray are longer, a little. they'll fit you better than they'll fit jim." van had to keep the gray. it didn't matter to me which horse i rode, and it might to him from the east; so i was glad if the gray was the easier. we were ready. "we'll take care of tom till you bring the doctor," said fitz. "we'll bring him." "so long. be scouts." "so long." a quick grip of the hand from fitz and ward, and we were off, out of the light from the opened door where stood the two women, watching, and into the dimness of the light. now for a forty-mile night ride, over a strange trail--twenty miles to the mines and twenty miles back. we would do our part and we knew that fitz and ward would do theirs in keeping the major safe. that appeared a long ride. twenty miles is a big stretch, at night, and when you are so anxious. we were to follow on the main trail for half a mile until we came to a bridge. but before crossing the bridge there was a gate on the right, and a hay road through a field. after we had crossed the field we would pass out by another gate, and would take a trail that led up on top of the mesa. then it was nineteen miles across the mesa, to the mines. the mines would have a light. they were running night and day. we did not say much, at first. we went at fast walk and little trots, so as not to wind the horses in the very beginning. we didn't dash away, headlong, as you sometimes read about, or see in pictures. i knew better. scouts must understand how to treat a horse, as well as how to treat themselves, on the march. this was a dark night, because it was cloudy. there were no stars, and the moon had not come up yet. so we must trust to the horses to keep the trail. by looking close we could barely see it, in spots. of course, the darkness was not a deep black darkness. except in a storm, the night of the open always is thinnish, so you can see after your eyes are used to it. i had the lead. up on the mesa we struck into a trot. a lope is easier to ride, but the trot is the natural gait of a horse, and he can keep up a trot longer than he can a lope. horses prefer trotting to galloping. trot, trot, trot, we went. "how you coming?" i asked, to encourage van. "all right," he grunted. "these stirrups are too long, though. i can't get any purchase." "doesn't your instep touch, when you stand up in them?" "if i straighten out my legs. i'm riding on my toes. that's the way i was taught. i like to have my knees crooked so i can grip with them. don't you, yours?" "just to change off to, as a rest. but cowboys and other people who ride all day stick their feet through the stirrup to the heel, and ride on their instep. a crooked leg gives a fellow a cramp in the knee, after a while. out here we ride straight up and down, so we are almost standing in the stirrups all the time. that's the cowboy way, and it's about the cavalry way, too. those men know." "how do you grip, then?" "with the thigh. try it. but when you're trotting you'd better stand in the stirrups and you can lean forward on the horn, for a rest." van grunted. he was experimenting. "should think it would make your back ache," he said. "what?" "to ride with such long stirrups." "uh uh," i answered. "not when you sit up and balance in the saddle and hold your spine straight. it always makes my back ache to hunch over. we elk scouts try to ride with heel and shoulders in line. we can ride all day." "humph!" grunted van. "let's lope." "all right." so we did lope, a little way. then we walked another little way, and then i pushed into the same old trot. that was hard on van, but it was what would cover the ground and get us through quickest to the doctor. so we must keep at it. sometimes i stood in the stirrups and leaned on the horn; sometimes i sat square and "took it." we crossed the mesa, and first thing we knew, we were tilting down into a gulch. the horses picked their way slowly; we let them. we didn't want any tumbles or sprained legs. the bottom of the gulch held willows and aspens and brush, and was dark, because shut in. we didn't trot. my old horse just put his nose down close to the ground, and went along at an amble, like a dog, smelling the trail. i let the lines hang and gave him his head. behind me followed van and his gray. i could hear the gray also sniffing. (note 65.) "will we get through?" called van, anxiously. "think we're still on the trail?" "sure," i answered. just then my horse snorted, and raised his head and snorted more, and stood stock-still, trembling. i could feel that his ears were pricked. he acted as if he was seeing something, in the trail. "gwan!" i said, digging him with my heels. "what's the matter?" called van. his horse had stopped and was snorting. "don't know." it was pitchy dark. i strained to see, but i couldn't. that is a creepy thing, to have your horse act so, when you don't know why. of course you think bear and cougar. but we were not to be held up by any foolishness, and i was not a bit afraid. "gwan!" i ordered again. "gwan!" repeated van. i heard a crackling in the brush, and my horse proceeded, sidling and snorting past the spot. van's gray followed, acting the same way. it might have been a bear; we never knew. on we went, winding through the black timber again. we were on the trail, all right; for by looking at the tree-tops against the sky we could just see them and could see that they were always opening out, ahead. the trail on the ground was kind of reproduced on the sky. it was a long way, through that dark gulch. but nothing hurt us and we kept going. the gulch widened; we rode through a park, and the horses turned sharply and began to climb a hill--zigzagging back and forth. we couldn't see a trail, and i got off and felt with my hands. a trail was there. we came out on top. here it was lighter. the moon had risen, and some light leaked through the clouds. "do you think we're on the right trail, still?" asked van, dubiously. "they didn't say anything about this other hill." that was so. but they hadn't said anything about there being two trails, either. they had said that when we struck the trail over the mesa, to follow it to the mines. "it must be the right trail," i said, back. "all we can do is to keep following it." seemed to me that we had gone the twenty miles already. but of course we hadn't. "maybe we've branched off, on to another trail," persisted van. "the horses turned, you remember. maybe we ought to go back and find out." "no, it's the right trail," i insisted, again. "there's only the one, they said." we must stick to that thought. we had been told by persons who knew. if once we began to fuss and not believe, and experiment, then we both would get muddled and we might lose ourselves completely. i remembered what old jerry the prospector once had said: "when you're on a trail, and you've been told that it goes somewhere, keep it till you get there. nobody can describe a trail by inches." we went on and on and on. it was down-hill and up-hill and across and through; but we pegged along. van was about discouraged; and it was a horrible sensation, to suspect that after all we might have got upon a wrong trail, and that we were not heading for the doctor but away from him, while fitz and ward were doing their best to save tom, thinking that we would come back bringing the doctor. we didn't talk much. van was dubious, and i was afraid to discuss with him, or i might be discouraged, too. i put all my attention to making time at fast walk and at trot, and in hoping. jiminy, how i did hope. every minute or two i was thinking that i saw a light ahead--the light of the mines. but when it did appear, it appeared all of a sudden, around a shoulder: a light, and several lights, clustered, in a hollow before! "there it is, van!" i cried; and i was so glad that i choked up. "is that the mines?" "sure. must be. hurrah!" "hurrah!" the sight changed everything. now the night wasn't dark, the way hadn't been so long after all, we weren't so tired, we had been silly to doubt the trail; for we had arrived, and soon we would be talking with the doctor. the trail wound and wound, and suddenly, again, it entered in among sheds, and the dumps of mines. at the first light i stopped. the door was partly open. it was the hoisting house of a mine, and the engineer was looking out, to see who we were. "is the doctor here?" i asked. "guess so. want him?" "yes." "he has a room over the store. somebody hurt? where you from?" "harden's ranch. where is the store?" "i'll show you. here." he led the way. "somebody hurt over there?" "no. sick." we halted beside a platform of a dim building, and the engineer pounded on the door. "oh, doc!" he called. and when that doctor answered, through the window above, and we knew that it was he, and that we had him at last, i wanted to laugh and shout. but now we must get him back to the major. "you're needed," explained the man. "couple of kids." and he said to us: "go ahead and tell him. i'm due at the mine." and off he trudged. we thanked him. "what's the trouble?" asked the doctor. "appendicitis, we think. we're from the harden ranch." "great scott!" we heard the doctor mutter. then he said. "all right, i'll be down." and we waited. he came out of a side door and around upon the porch. he was buttoning his shirt. "who's got it? not one of _you_?" "no, another boy. he was sick on the trail and we took him to the ranch. then we rode over here." "what makes you think your friend has appendicitis?" we described how the major acted and what fitz had found out by feeling, and what we had done. "sounds suspicious," said the doctor, shortly. "you did the right thing, anyway. do you want to go back with me? i'll start right over. expect you're pretty tired." "we'll go," we both exclaimed. we should say so! we wanted to be there, on the spot. "i'll just get my case, and saddle-up." and he disappeared. he was a young doctor, smooth-faced; i guess he hadn't been out of college very long; but he was prompt and ready. he came down in a moment with a lantern, and put his case on the porch. he handed us a paper of stuff. "there's some lump sugar," he said. "eat it. i always carry some about with me, on long rides. it's fine for keeping up the strength." he swung the lantern to get a look at us, then he went back toward the stables, and saddled his horse. he was in the store a moment, too. "i've got some cheese," he announced, when he came out again. "cheese and sugar don't sound good as a mixture, but they'll see us through. we must keep our nerve, you know. all aboard?" "all aboard," we answered. that was another long ride, back; but it did not seem so long as the ride in, because we knew that we were on the right trail. the doctor talked and asked us all about our trip as scouts, and told experiences that he had had on trips, himself; and we tried to meet him at least halfway. but all the time i was wondering about the major, and whether we would reach him in time, and whether he would get well, and what was happening now, there. but there was no use in saying this, or in asking the doctor a lot of questions. he would know and he would do his best, and so would we all. just at daylight we again entered the ranch yard. fitz waved his one arm from the ranch door. he came to meet us. his eyes were sticky and swollen and his face pale and set, but he smiled just the same. "here's the doctor," we reported. "how is he?" "not so bad, as long as we keep the cold compress on. he's slept." "good," said the doctor. "we'll fix him up now, all right." he swung off, with his case, and fitz took him right in. van and i sort of tumbled off, and stumbled along after. those forty miles at trot and fast walk had put a crimp in our legs. but i tell you, we were thankful that we had done it! and here was our second sunday. chapter xxi the last dash that young doctor was fine. he took things right into his own hands, and major henry said all right. the major was weak but game. he was gamer than any of us. fitz and red fox scout ward had slept some by turns, and the two women were ready to help, too; but the doctor gave red fox scout van sant and me the choice of going to sleep or going fishing. it was sunday and we didn't need the fish. we didn't intend to go to sleep; we just let them show us a place, in the bunk-house, and we lay down, for a minute. for we were ready to help, as well as the rest of them. a scout must not be afraid of blood or wounds. we only lay down with a blanket over us, instead of going fishing--and when i opened my eyes again the sun was bright and fitz and ward were peeking in on us. they were pale, but they looked happy. van and i tried to sit up. "is it over with?" we asked. "sure." "did he take it out? was that what was the matter?" "yes. want to see it?" no, we didn't. i didn't, anyway. "how is he? can we see him?" "the doctor says he'll be all right. maybe you can see him. he's out from under. it's one o'clock." one o'clock! phew! we were regular deserters--but we hadn't intended to be. we tumbled out, now, and hurried to wash and fix up, so that we would look good to the major. sick people are finicky. the daughter was in the kitchen, but the mother and the doctor were eating. there was a funny sweetish smell, still; smell of chloroform. it is a serious smell, too. the doctor smiled at us. "i ought to have taken yours out, while you were asleep," he joked. "i've been thinking of it." "is he all right?" we asked; fitz and ward behind us, ready to hear again. "bully, so far." "indeed he is," added the mother. "can we see him?" "you can stand on the threshold and say one word: 'hello.'" we tiptoed through. the bed was clean and white, with a sheet outside instead of the colored spread; and the major was in it. the elks' flag was spread out, draped over the dresser, where he could see it. his eyes opened at us. he didn't look so very terrible, and he tried to grin. "how?" he said. "hello," said we; and we gave him the scouts' sign. "didn't even make me sick," he croaked. "but i can't get up. don't you fellows wait. you go ahead." "we will," we said, to soothe him. then we gave him the scouts' sign again, and the silence sign, and the wolf sign (for bravery) (note 66), and we drew back. the doctor had told us that we could say one word, and we had been made to say three! we had seen that the major was alive and up and coming (not really up; only going to be, you know); but this was another anxious day, i tell you! having an appendix cut out is no light matter, ever--and besides, here was the fourteenth day on the trail! the major would not be able to stir for a week and a half, maybe; yet green valley, our goal, was only twenty-one miles away! "it's all a question of the nursing that he has now, boys," said the doctor, in council with us. "i'm going to trust that to you scouts; these women have all they can do, anyway. we got the appendix out just in time--but if it hadn't been for your first-aid treatment in the beginning we might have been too late. that old appendix was swollen and ready to burst if given half a chance. his pure scout's blood and his scout's vitality will pull him through o. k. that's what he gets, from living right, following out scouts' rules. but he must have attention night and day according to hygiene. we don't want any microbes monkeying with that wound i made." "no, you bet," we said. "i'll leave you complete directions and then i'm going back to the mines; but i'll ride over again to-morrow morning. can't you keep him from fussing about that message?" "we'll try," we said. "if you can't, then one of you can jump on a horse and take it over, so as to satisfy him. you can make the round trip in five hours." well, we were pledged not to do _that_; horse or other help was forbidden. but we did not say so. what was the use? and it didn't seem now as though either fitz or i could stand it to leave the major even for five hours. the red fox scouts of course must skip on, to the railroad, or they'd miss their big yellowstone trip, and we two elks would be on night and day duty, with the major. the doctor said that he would be out of danger in five days. by that time the message would be long overdue. it was too bad. we had tried so hard. the doctor left us written directions, until he should come back; and he rode off for the mines. fitz and i took over the nursing, and let the two women go on about their ranch work. they were mighty nice to us, and we didn't mean to bother them any more than was absolutely necessary. the two red foxes stayed a while longer. they said that they would light out early in the morning, if the major had a good night, in time to catch the train all right. but they didn't; we might have smelled a mouse, if we hadn't been so anxious about the major. they were good as gold, those two red foxes. you see, the major kept fussing. he was worried over the failure of the message. he had it on his mind all the time. to-morrow was the fifteenth day--and here we were, laid up because of him. we told him no matter; we all had done our scouts' best, and no fellows could have done more. but we would stick by him. that was our scouts' duty, now. he kept fussing. when we took his temperature, as the doctor had ordered, it had gone up two degrees. that was bad. we could not find any other special symptoms. his cut didn't hurt him, and he had not a thing to complain of--except that we wouldn't carry the message through in time. "you'll have to do it," said red fox scout van sant to fitz and me. "but we can't." "why not?" that was a silly question for a scout to ask. "we can't leave tom." "yes, you can. hal and i are here." "you've got to make that train, right away." "no, we haven't." "but you'll miss the yellowstone trip!" "we can take it later." "no, sir! that won't do. the major and we, and the general, too, if he knew, won't have it that way at all. you fellows have been true scouts. now you go ahead." scout van flushed and fidgeted. "well, to tell the truth," he blurted, "i guess we've missed connections a little anyway. but we don't care. we sent a telegram in this afternoon by the doctor to our crowd, telling them to go ahead themselves and not to expect us until we cut their trail. the doctor will telephone it to the operator." we gasped. "you see," continued van, "we two red foxes can take care of the major while you're gone, like a brick. we're first-aid nurses, and the doctor has told us what to do; and he's coming back to-morrow and the next day you'll be back, maybe. he said that if the major fussed you'd better do what's wanted." "but look here--!" began fitz. "the major'll feel worse if he knows you're missing your trip than if the message is delayed a day or two." "no, he won't," argued van. "we'll explain to him. we won't miss our trip. we'll catch the crowd somewhere. besides, that's only pleasure. this other is business. you're on the trail, in real scouts' service, to show what scouts can do, so we want to help." it seemed to me that they were showing what scouts can do, too! they were splendid, those red foxes. "the major'll just fuss and fret, you know," finished van. "that's what has sent his temperature up, already." "well," said fitz, slowly, "we'll see. we elks appreciate how you other scouts have stuck and helped. don't we, jim?" "we sure do," i agreed. "but we don't want to ride a free horse to death." "bosh!" laughed van. "we're all scouts. that's enough." red fox scout ward beckoned to us. "the major wants you," he said. we went in. the major did not look good to me. his cheeks were getting flushed and his eyes were large and rabbity. "i can't quiet him," claimed ward, low, as we entered. "do you know this is the fourteenth day?" piped the major. "i've been counting up and it is. i'm sure it is." "that's all right, old boy," soothed fitz. "you let us do the counting. all you need do is get well." "but we have to put that message through, don't we?" answered the major. "just because i'm laid up is no reason why the rest of you must be laid up, too. darn it! can't you do something?" he was excited. that was bad. "i've been thinking," proceeded the major. "the general was hurt, and dropped out, but we others went on. then little jed smith was hurt, and he and kit carson dropped out, but we others went on. and now i'm hurt, and i've dropped out, and none of you others will go on. that seems mighty mean. i don't see why you're trying to make me responsible. everybody'll blame me." "of course they won't," i said. he was wriggling his feet and moving his arms, and he was almost crying. "would you get well quick if we leave you and take the message through, tom?" asked fitz, suddenly. the major quit wriggling, and his face shone. "would i? i'd beat the record. i'd sleep all i'm told to, and eat soup, and never peep. will you, fitz? sure?" "to-morrow morning. you lie quiet, and quit fussing, and sleep, and be a model patient in the hospital, and then to-morrow morning early we'll hike." "both of you?" "yep." "one isn't enough, in case you meet trouble. it's two on the trail, for us scouts." "i know it." "and you'll take the flag? i want the elks flag to go." "we will," we said. "to-morrow morning, then," and the major smiled a peaceful, happy little smile. "bueno. now i'll go to sleep. you needn't give me any dope. i'll see you off in the morning." and he sort of settled and closed his eyes. "when are you red foxes off?" he asked drowsily. "oh, we've arranged to be around here a day yet," drawled van sant. "you can't get rid of us. we want to hear that the message went through. then we'll skip. we ought to rest one day in seven. and there's a two-pound trout in a hole here, mrs. harden says, and hal thinks he can catch him to-morrow before i do." "you mustn't miss that trip," murmured the major. and when we tiptoed out, leaving fitz on guard, he was asleep already! so it seemed that we had done the best thing. red foxes ward and van sant divided the night watch between them so that we elks should be fresh for the day's march. we were up early, and got our own breakfast, so as not to bother the two women; but the report came out from the major's room that he had had a bully night, and that now he was awake and was bound to see us. so we went in. he had the elks flag in his hands. "who's got that message?" he asked. i had, you know. he passed the flag to fitz. "you take this, then. you're sure going, aren't you?" "yes, sir." "all right. you can make it. don't you worry about me. i'm fine. be scouts. it's the last leg." "you be a scout, too. if we're to be scouts, on the march, you ought to be a scout, in the hospital." "i will." he knew what we meant. "but i wish i could go." "so do we." "all ready?" "all ready." he shook our hands. "so long." "so long." we gave him the scouts' salute, and out we went. we shook hands with the red foxes; they saluted us, and we saluted them. we crossed the yard for the trail; and when we looked back, the two women waved at us. we waved back. and now we were carrying the message again, with only twenty-one miles to go. the trail was up grade, following beside the creek, and we knew that we must allow at least eight hours for those twenty-one miles. it was not to be a nice day, either. mists were floating around among the hills, which was a pretty certain sign of rain. we hiked on. i had the message, hanging inside my shirt. it felt good. i suspected that fitz ought to be the one to carry it; he was my superior. but he didn't ask for it, and i tried to believe that my carrying it made no difference to him. i was thinking about offering it to him, but i didn't. he had his camera, and the flag wrapped about his waist like a sash. we'd left sally and our other stuff at the ranch, and were traveling light for this last spurt. it was a wagon trail right down the valley, and we could travel fast. the sun grew hotter, and a hole in my boot-sole began to raise a blister on my foot. those fourteen days of steady trailing had been hard on leather, and on clothes, too. we passed several ranches. along in the middle of the morning thunder began to growl in the hills, and we knew that we were liable to be wet. the valley grew narrower, as if it was to pinch out, and the thunder grew louder. the storm was rising black over the hills ahead of us. "that's going to be a big one," said fitz. it looked so. the clouds were the rolling, tumbling kind, where drab and black are mixed. and they came fast, to eat the sun. it was raining hard on the hills ahead. we could see the lightning every second, awful zigzags and splits and bursting bombs, and the thunder was one long bellow. the valley pinched to not much more than a gulch, with aspens and pines and willows, and now and then little grassy places, and the stream rippling down through the middle. half the sky was gone, now, and the sun was swallowed, and it was time that fitz and i found cover. we did not hunt a tree; not much! trees are lightning attracters, and they leak, besides. but we saw where a ledge of shelf-rock cropped out, making a little cave. "we'd better get in here and cache till the worst is over," proposed fitz. "we'll eat our lunch while we're waiting." that sounded like sense. so we snuggled under. we could just sit up, with our feet inside the edge. "boom-oom-oom!" roared the thunder, shaking the ground. "boom-oom-oom! oom! oom! boom!" we could feel a chill, the breeze stopped, as if scared, drops began to patter, a few, and then more, faster and faster, hard and swift as hail, the world got dark, and suddenly with roar and slash down she came, while we were eating our first sandwich put up by the two women. that was the worst rain that fitz or i had ever seen. between mouthfuls we watched. the drops were big and they fell like a spurt from a hose, until all the outside world was just one sheet of water. the streaks drummed with the rumble of a hundred wagons. we couldn't see ten feet. before we had eaten our second sandwiches, the water was trickling through cracks in the shelf-rock roof, and dirt was washing away from the sides of our cave. outside, the land was a stretch of yellow, liquid adobe, worked upon by the fierce pour. "we'll have to get out of this," shouted fitz in my ear. "this roof may cave in on us." and out he plunged; i followed. we were soaked through in an instant, and i could feel the water running down my skin. we could scarcely see where to go or what to do; but we had bolted just in time. one end of the shelf-rock washed out like soap, and in crumpled the roof, as a mass of shale and mud! up the gulch sounded a roaring--another, different roaring from the roaring of the rain and thunder. fitz grabbed my hand. "run!" he shouted. "quick! get across!" this was no time for questions, of course. i knew that he spoke in earnest, and had some good reason. hand in hand we raced, sliding and slipping, for the creek. it had changed a heap in five minutes. it was all a thick yellow, and was swirling and yeasty. fitz waded right in, in a big hurry to get on the other side. he let go of my hand, but i followed close. the current bit at my knees, and we stumbled on the hidden rocks. out fitz staggered, and up the opposite slope, through sage and bushes. the roaring was right behind us. it was terrible. we were about all in, and fitz stopped, panting. "see that?" he gasped, pointing back. a wave of yellow muck ten feet high was charging down the gulch like a squadron of cavalry in solid formation. logs and tree-branches were sticking out of it, and great rocks were tossing and floating. another second, and it had passed, and where we had come from--trail and shelf-rock and creek--was nothing but the muddy water and driftwood tearing past, with the pines and aspens and willows trembling amidst it. but it couldn't reach us. "cloud-burst," called fitz, in my ear. i nodded. he was white. i felt white, too. that had been a narrow escape. "we could have climbed that other side, couldn't we?" i asked. "we were on the wrong side of the creek, though. we might have been cut off from where we're going. that's what i thought of. see?" wise old fitz. that was scouty, to do the best thing no matter how quick you must act. of course, with the creek between us and green valley, and the bridges washed out and the water up, we might have been held back for half a day! the yellow flood boiled below, but the rain was quitting, and we might as well move on, anyway. according to what we had been told of the trail, up at the head of the gulch it turned off, and crossed the creek on a high bridge, and made through the hills northwest for the town. now we must shortcut to strike it over in that direction. the rain was quitting; the sun was going to shine. that was a hard climb, through the wet and the stickiness and the slipperiness, with our clothes weighting us and clinging to us and making us hotter. but up we pushed, puffing. then we followed the ridge a little way, until we had to go down. next we must go up again, for another ridge. fitz plugged along; so did i. the sun came out and the ground steamed, and our clothes gradually dried, as the brush and trees dried; but somehow i didn't feel extra good. my head thumped, and things looked queer. it didn't result in anything serious, after the hike was over, so i guess that maybe i was hungry and excited. the rain had soaked our lunch as well as us and we threw it away in gobs; we counted on supper in green valley. we didn't stop. fitz was going strong. he was steel. and if i could hold out i mustn't say a word. so it was up-hill and down-hill, across country through brush and scattered timber, expecting any time to hit the trail or come in sight of the town. and how my head did thump! finally in a draw we struck a cow-path, and we stuck to this, because it looked as if it was going somewhere. other cow-paths joined it, and it got larger and larger and more hopeful; and about five o'clock by the sun we stepped into a main traveled road. hurrah! this was the trail for us. the rain had not spread this far, and the road was dusty. a signboard said, pointing: "brown's big store, green valley's leader, one mile." we were drawing near! i tried not to limp, and not to notice my head, as we spurted to a fast walk, straight-foot and quick, so that we would enter triumphantly. as like as not people would be looking out for us, as this was the last day; and we would show them scouts' spirit. we elks had fought treachery and fire and flood, and we had left four good men along the way; those had been a strenuous fifteen days, but we were winning through at last. that last mile seemed to me longer than any twenty. the dust and gravel were hot, the sun flamed, my blister felt like a cushion full of needles, my legs were heavy and numb, that old head thumped like a drum, and i had a notion that if i slackened or lost my stride i'd never finish out that mile. so when fitz stumbled on a piece of rock, and his strap snapped and he stopped to pick up his camera, i kept moving. he would catch me. a shoulder of rock stuck out and the road curved around it; and when i had curved around it, too, then i saw something that sent my heart into my throat, and brought me up short. with two leaps i was back, around the rock again, in time to sign fitz, coming: "halt! silence!" and i motioned him close behind the shoulder. beyond the rock the road stretched straight and clear, with the town only a quarter of a mile. but only about a hundred yards away, where the creek flowed close to the road, were two fellows, fishing. one was bill duane! fitz obeyed my signs. he gazed at me, startled and anxious. "what is it?" he asked, pantomime. i held up two fingers, for two enemies. then i cautiously peeked out. bill duane was leaving the water, as if he was coming; and the other fellow was coming. the other fellow was mike delavan. they must have seen me before i had jumped back. we might have circuited them, but now it was too late. i never could stand a chase over the hills, and maybe fitz couldn't. but there was a way, and a chance, and i made up my mind in a twinkling. i jerked out the message and held it at fitz. he shook his head. i signed what we would do--what i would do and what he must do. he shook his head. he wouldn't. we would stick together. i clinched my teeth and waved my fist under his nose, and signed that he _must_. he was the one. then i thrust the message into his hand, and out i sprang. around the shoulder of rock bill and mike were sneaking, to see what had become of me. they were only about fifty yards, now, and i made for them as if to dodge them. they let out a yell and closed in, and up the hill at one side i pegged. they pegged to head me. my legs worked badly. i didn't mind breaking the blister (i felt the warm stuff ooze out, and the sting that followed); but those heavy legs! as a scout i ought to have skipped up the hill as springy and long-winded as a goat; but instead i had to shove myself. but up i went, nip and tuck--and my head thumped when my heart did, about a thousand times a minute. every step i took hurt from hair to sole. but i didn't care, if i only could go far enough. bill and mike climbed after, on the oblique so as to cut me off before i could reach the top of the ridge and the level there. straight up i went, drawing them on; and halfway my throat was too dry and my legs were too heavy and my head jarred my eyes too much, and i wobbled and fell down. on came the two enemy; but i didn't care. i looked past them and saw fitzpatrick the bad hand pelting down the road. he had cached his camera, but he had the flag and the message, his one arm was working like a driving-rod, he was running true, the trail lay straight and waiting, with the goal open, and i knew that he would make it! appendix: scout notes chapter i note 1, page 3: many old-time "scouts" of western plains and mountains did not amount to much. they led a useless life, hunting and fighting for personal gain, and gave little thought to preserving game, making permanent trails, or otherwise benefiting people who would follow. their knowledge and experience was of the selfish or of the unreliable kind. they cared for nobody but themselves, and for nothing but their wild haunts. however, these trapper-explorers whose names the elk patrol took were of value to the world at large and deserve to be remembered. general william h. ashley lived in old st. louis, and became a fur-trader and fur-hunter in 1822. by his great enterprise he encouraged other americans to penetrate the western country. he led numerous expeditions across the wild plains and the wild rockies, and his parties were great training-schools for young trapper-scouts. he it was who fairly broke the famous oregon and california emigrant trail across the rocky mountains by hauling a six-pounder cannon, on wheels, to his fort in utah; his men were the first to explore the great salt lake; he was the first brigadier-general of the missouri state militia, and after his fur days he went to congress. major andrew henry was general ashley's partner in fur. but before joining with ashley, in 1810 he had built, in idaho, the first american trading post or fort west of the mountains. kit carson was a real "boy scout," for he took the scout trail in 1826, when he was only sixteen. because of his modesty, his bravery, his shrewdness, and his kindliness, his help to army and other government expeditions, and his advice in indian matters, he is the best-known of all western frontiersmen. thomas fitzpatrick the bad hand was an ashley trapper, and was a captain of trappers. he afterwards served as a valuable guide for emigrants and the government, and was a government agent over indians. he was called by the indians "bad hand," because one hand had been crippled through a rifle explosion. he was called "white head," too, because in a terrible chase by indians his hair turned white. jedediah s. smith is known as the knight in buckskin. he also was an ashley scout or trapper, and he was the first american trapper to lead a party across to california. jedediah smith was a true christian, and during all his wanderings the bible was his best companion. jim bridger was another ashley scout. he became a scout when he was nineteen, before kit carson, and is almost as well known as kit carson. he was the ashley man who discovered the great salt lake, in 1825; he was the first to tell about the yellowstone park; and it was by his trail that the union pacific railroad found its way over the rocky mountains. note 2, page 4: boy scouts know that "taking a message to garcia" means "there and back and no breath wasted." when the war with spain broke out, in 1898, captain andrew summers rowan, of the united states army, was directed by the president to convey a message from the government to general garcia of the cuban army. nobody seemed to know the exact whereabouts of general garcia, who was concealed in the depths of the island. but captain rowan did not wait to ask "when" or "how." not he. he pocketed the message, he made for cuba, he plunged into the jungle, he found general garcia, and he brought back the desired report. that was genuine scouts' work, without frills or foolishness. note 3, page 5: two pairs of thin socks are better for the feet than one pair of thick socks. they rub on each other, and this saves the skin from rubbing on the inside of the boot. soldiers sometimes soap the heels and soles of their stockings, on the inside. note 4, page 6: the "tarp" or tarpaulin, or cowboy bed-sheet, is a strip of sixteenor eighteen-ounce canvas duck six to eight feet wide and ten to twenty feet long. fifteen feet is long for boy scouts. but it should be plenty wide enough to tuck in well and not draw open when _humped_ by the body, and plenty long enough to cover, with room for the feet, and plenty heavy enough to shed wind and water. it is used on the outside, under and over; and in between, in his blankets, the scout is snug. the tarp is simple and cheap and is easily accommodated to circumstances. if a few brass eyes are run along the edges, and in the corners, then it can be stretched for a shelter-tent, too. it is much used on the plains and in the mountains. note 5, page 6: the diamond hitch is the favorite tie by which packs and other loads are fastened upon burros and horses. it has been used from very early days in the west, and is called the "diamond" hitch because when taut the rope forms a diamond on top of the pack. there are several styles of the diamond hitch, but they all are classified as the single or the double diamond. some require only one person to tie them; some require two persons. they bind the load very flat, they may be loosened or tightened quickly from the free end of the lash rope, and they do not stick or jam. nobody has time to fuss with hard knots, when the pack must come off in a hurry. the simplest form of the diamond hitch is tied as shown here. scouts may practice it with a cushion laid upon a porch rail, a cord for a lash rope, a strip of cloth for the band or cincha, and a bent nail for the cincha hook. the elk scouts had under their top-packs a "sawbuck" pack-saddle, which is a pair of wooden x's; and to the horns of the x's they hung on each side a canvas case or pannier, in which were stowed cooking utensils, etc. the blankets, etc., were folded and laid on top, with the tarpaulins covering, and the whole was then "laired up" (which is the army and packing term for tucking and squaring and making all shipshape), so that it would ride securely. the panniers must balance each other, even if rocks have to be put in on one side to even up; or else the burro's back will be made sore. top-packs must not ride wobbly or aslant. a splendid little book for boy scouts is the pamphlet "pack transportation," issued by the quartermaster's department of the united states army, and for sale at a small price by the government printing office, washington. it tells about all the pack hitches, with pictures, and how to care for the animals on the march. this latter is very important. before number 3 is formed, the cinch or cincha (the belly-band) must be drawn very tight, so that the double-twist which makes the loop in number 3 will stick. but the rope and cincha are apt to slip and loosen, unless the scout takes a jam-hitch or blackwall hitch around the hook of the cincha. the rope should be kept taut throughout; and at the last should be heaved tauter still, so that the diamond bites into the pack well; and the end of the rope should be doubled back and tucked under so that it will not drag, and yet can be easily got at. [illustration: the simplest single diamond] the lash rope, or pack-rope, in the army is one-half inch in size and is fifty feet long; but a forty-foot rope is plenty long enough for scouts. a lair rope also is useful in packing. this is a three-eighths inch rope, twenty-five or thirty feet long, by which the packs may first be laired or tied up securely so that nothing shall shake out. a pack for a burro may weigh from 200 to 250 pounds; but on a long, rough trip 150 pounds is better. a pack is harder on a mule or a horse than a rider is, because it never lets up. note 6, page 6: the indian bow was only two and one-half to four feet long, so that it could be carried easily when stalking or when on horseback. the sioux bow, four feet long, was an inch and a half wide at the middle and an inch thick, and tapered to half an inch thick and half an inch wide, at the ends. the indian bow was made of wood, and of mountain-goat horns, or of solid bones, glued together. the wooden bow frequently was strengthened by having hide or sinew glued along the back. until they learned the knack of it, few white men could bend an indian bow. the arrows were of different lengths, but each warrior used the one length, if he could, so that he would shoot alike, every time. each warrior knew his own arrows, by a private mark--by length or by pattern of stem or of feathers. some tribes used two feathers, some three. scouts can mark their arrows, in the same way. the bow and arrow are good scout weapons. they give no noise. they do not frighten animals or warn the enemy. they are not expensive. they can be made on the spot. and it takes scoutcraft to make them and to use them successfully. as long as the indians had only bows and arrows, there was plenty of game for all. note 7, page 6: the lariat rope, or simply "rope," in the west, is thirty-five or forty feet long. usually it is five-eighths, four-ply manilla, but the best are of braided rawhide. those bought at stores have a metal knot or honda through which the slipnoose runs; but cowboys and boy scouts do not need this. they tie their own honda, which should be a small fixed loop with space enough for the rope to pass freely. the inside of the loop, against which the rope slips back and forth, may be wrapped with leather. in throwing the rope, the noose or slipknot should be opened to four or five feet in diameter, and the free part of the rope outside the noose should be grasped together with the noose for about one third along the noose from the honda knot. the remainder of the rope is held in a coil in the other hand, ready to release when the noose is cast. the noose (with the part of the free rope) is whirled in thumb and fingers around the head, until it has a good start; and then it is jerked straight forward by the wrist and forearm. as it sails, the honda knot swings to the front and acts as a weight to open the noose wide. that is why part of the rope is taken up, with the noose, and the noose is grasped one third along from the knot itself. the rope, or lariat, or lasso, is a handy implement for the scout. the western indians and the old-time scouts or trappers used it a great deal, for catching animals and even enemies; and when the united states fought with mexico, in 1846, some of the mexican cavalry were armed with lassos. note 8, page 7: anybody on the march always feels better and can travel better when he keeps himself as clean and as neat as possible. each pair of scouts in a patrol should share a war-bag, which is a canvas sack about four feet long, with a round bottom and with a top puckered by a rope. this war-bag is for personal stuff, so that there is no need to paw around in the general baggage, and no chance of losing things. note 9, page 7: coffee is popular, but tea is better, in the long run, and scouts should not neglect it on the trail. it is lighter than coffee, is more quickly made, and is a food, a strength-giver, and a thirst-quencher in one. all explorers favor it. note 10, page 7: scout troops would do well to have an official physician who will make out a list of remedies to be used in camp or on the march. when scouts know how to clean out the stomach and the intestines and how to reduce fever and to subdue chills, and what to give in case of poisoning, then they can prevent many illnesses and perhaps save life. the remedies should be in shape to be easily carried, and should be simple to handle. note 11, page 7: the indian walk and the old scout walk was the straight-foot walk, because it covers the ground with the least resistance. when the foot is turned so that it is pushed sideways, there is waste motion. the toes should push backward, not quartering, to get the most out of the leg muscles. george catlin, the famous indian painter, who lived among the indians of the west before any of us were born, says that he could not walk in moccasins until he walked straight-foot. the indians turned their toes in a little. note 12, page 10: all the indian tribes of the western plains and mountains, and most of the old-time scouts, knew sign language. this was a language by means of motions of the hands, helped by the body and face; so that persons could sit and talk together for hours and not utter a word! in time of danger, when silence is desired, scouts of to-day will find the sign language valuable; and by it the scout of one country can talk with the scout of a foreign country. a book on the "indian sign language" was written in 1884 by captain w. p. clark of the united states army, and it gives all the signs for things from a to z. fitzpatrick's sign for "watch!" was to bring his right hand with back up, in front of lower part of the face, the first two fingers extended and separated a little and pointing down the trail. the thumb and other fingers are closed. the tips of the two fingers represent the two eyes looking! when he meant "listen!" he put his hand, palm front, to his ear, with thumb and first finger open, so that the ear set in the angle of them; and he wriggled his hands slowly. jim bridger's sign for "horseback!" was two fingers of one hand placed astride the edge of the other hand, and the sign for "wolf!" is the hand (or both hands) with palm to the front, before the shoulder, and the first two fingers pricked up, separated like two ears. then the hand was moved forward and upward, just a little, like a wolf reconnoitering over a crest. occasionally the sign for something was not precisely the same among all the indian tribes. the pawnee sign for "wolf" was the first finger of each hand stuck up alongside the head, like ears pricking. but it was a sign easily read. all the signs were sensible and initiative. when the "future" was meant, the finger was thrust ahead with a screwing motion, as if boring; when the "past" was meant, the hand and finger were extended in front and drawn back with the screwing motion. when he was full of food the indian drew his thumb and finger along his body from his stomach to his throat. when he was hungry he drew the edge of his hand back and forth across his stomach, as sign that he was being cut in two. the sign "talk" is to draw the words out of the mouth with thumb and finger; while to "stop talking" is the same motion half made and then slashed by the edge of the same hand being brought down through it. this means "all right," "that's enough," "i understand," and also "cut it out!" "chop it off!" years were reckoned as winters, and "winter" is signed by the two clenched hands shivering in front of the body. days were "sleeps," and "sleep" is signed by inclining the head sideways, to rest upon the palm of the hand. "man" is the first finger thrust upright, before, because man walks erect. the "question" sign is the right hand bent up, before, at the wrist, fingers apart, and turned from side to side. to ask "how old are you?" the indian would sign: "you," "winter," "number," "what?" so scouts will not find it hard to pick up the sign language; the motions represent the thing itself. when a sign requires several motions, a good sign talker will make them all as rapidly as we pronounce syllables, and he will tell a long story using one hand or two, as most convenient. chapter ii note 13, page 11: the sign for "bird flying" is the sign for wings. the two hands are raised opposite the shoulders, palms to the front, fingers extended and together. then the hands are waved forward and back, like wings--slowly for large birds, fast for little birds, to imitate the bird itself. note 14, page 13: a good way to spread the scout or cowboy tarpaulin bed is to lay the tarpaulin out at full length, on the smooth place chosen, and to lay the blankets and quilts, open, full length on top. both ends of the tarp are left bare, of course, for the bedding is shorter than the tarp. then the whole is turned back upon itself at the middle; one edge of the tarp is tucked under, and part of the other edge, making a bag, with leeway enough so that the sleeper can crawl in. now there is as much bedding under as over, which is the proper condition when sleeping out upon the ground. the bare end of the tarp, under, will keep the pillow off the dirt; the bare end which comes over will cover the face in case of storm. the scout has a low, flat bed, which will shed wind and rain. note 15, page 13: a reflector is a handy baker. it is a bright-lined box like half of a pyramid or half of an oven. the dough is put into it, and it is set upon its base, open to the fire. the heat strikes it and reflects upon the dough and the dough bakes. it is simple, and can be made to fold together, so that it packs easily. another trapper and scout method is to smear dough upon a shovel or even a flat, smooth board, and set it up against the fire. the mexicans bake their tortillas, or thin flour cakes, by smearing them upon smooth stones. note 16, page 17: scouts can readily invent a whistle code of their own. the western indians used whistles of bone, in war, and the united states army can drill by whistle signals. chapter iii note 17, page 21: the teeth are a very important item in scout service. if scouts will notice the soldiers of the united states army, and the sailors of the united states navy, they will notice also that their teeth are always kept clean and sound. scouts, no matter where they are, should brush their teeth well with tooth powder every morning at least; and should keep them free from particles of food, and should wash their mouths with a dental antiseptic to kill microbes. brushed teeth and combed and brushed hair after the wet rub make the scout fit for the day's work. he feels decent. note 18, page 25: scouts who are in camp or on the trail without fish-hooks and are hard-put to catch fish, may try an old indian and scout method. a bent pin sometimes does not work, with large fish; but the indians tied a cord or sinew to the end of a small, slender bone, and again, with a loop, to the middle of the bone. when the fish swallowed the bait impaled upon the bone, the cord or sinew hauled the bone by the middle so that it usually snagged in the fish's throat or gills. a sharp, tough splinter or a small nail will do the same. thus: [illustration] chapter iv note 19, page 33: newspaper stuffed into wet boots or shoes helps them to dry by holding them open and by absorbing the moisture. of course, the newspaper should be changed frequently. warm pebbles poured into wet boots or shoes dry them quickly, too. a stuffing of dead grass is another scouty scheme. note 20, page 36: for a leader of a scouts' party to write up the chief events of each day's march in a notebook, and to sketch the country traversed, teaches order and disciplines the memory, and oftentimes will prove a valuable record. note 21, page 38: the right-handed or the left-handed person usually is right-sided or left-sided, all the way down, but not always. so because a person is right-handed or left-handed he _probably_ is right-footed or left-footed, but not _necessarily_ so. some persons use their left hands to write with, but throw with their right hands, and are likely to use either foot. and some may be left-handed but right-footed. a scout should learn to use both hands and both feet alike. and he also will learn not to be cocksure and jump at conclusions. all rules have exceptions. chapter v note 22, page 39: scouts will find that weather-signs among the high mountains are very different from those of the low or the flatter country. the easiest sign of storm is the night-caps. for when in the morning the mountains still have their night-caps on, and the clouds rest like shattered fog in the draws and hollows, the day will surely have rain, by noon. but among the rockies there usually is a thunder-storm in the middle of every day during the summer. no one wind for all localities brings rain. the weather is interfered with by the peaks and the valleys. however, here are a few signs to be noted: when by day the air is extra clear, so that very distant ridges stand out sharply, a storm is apt to be brewing. when the camp-fire smoke bends down, in the still air of midday or afternoon, a storm is apt to be brewing. when by night the stars are extra sharp and twinkle less than usual, overhead, but are dim around the horizon, a storm is apt to be brewing. when there is a halo or ring around the moon, a storm is apt to be brewing; and it is claimed that the larger the circle, the nearer the storm. when the canvas of the tent stays tight or damp, showing a gathering dampness, a storm is apt to be brewing. when ants are noted dragging leaves or twigs across the entrance to their nest, a storm is near. the change of the moon is claimed to change the weather also. and an old maxim says that the third day before the new moon is the sign of the weather for that moon month. if the new moon comes upon the 10th, then the weather of the 8th is to be the general weather of the next thirty days. of course, in winter time, or in the late fall or early spring, when the sun-dogs appear, that is a pretty sure sign of cold weather. the indians say that the "sun is painting both cheeks," or that the "sun has built fires to warm himself." but scouts will have difficulty in predicting mountain weather, because storms are diverted by the peaks, and swing off or are broken up; and besides, many mountain trails and mountain camps are one mile and two miles high--above ordinary conditions. the saying is that only fools and indians predict weather, in the mountains! note 23, page 39: scouts as well as anybody else should have their teeth approved of by a dentist, before starting out on the long trail. the tooth-ache saps the strength, and a cavity might result in a serious abscess, far from proper treatment. note 24, page 40: in the thick timber where there are many trees the chance of course is less that the tree which you are under will be struck by the lightning. but to seek refuge under any tree, in a field or other open place, is dangerous. many persons are killed, every summer, by seeking some lone tree or small clump of trees, or a high-standing tree, in a thunder-storm. note 25, page 47: the low soft spot is not so good as the high hard spot, to sleep on. green grass is damp, and softness gathers dampness. cowboys and rangers always spread their beds on a little elevation, where the ground is drier and where there is a breeze for ventilation and to keep the insects away. note 26, page 49: nobody can cook by a big fire, without cooking himself too! the smaller the fire the better, as long as it is enough. just a handful of twigs at a time will cook coffee or roast a chunk of meat. it is an old scout saying that "little wood feeds the fire, much wood puts it out." cook by coals rather than by flame. in the west cedar makes the best coals, the cleanest flame; sage makes a very hot fire, and burns to ashes which hold the fire, but it does not give hard coals. anything pitchy smokes the camp. in the mountains meat wrapped in a gunnysack or a tarpaulin, to protect from the flies, and hung in the shade and particularly in a tree where the air circulates, will keep a long, long time. note 27, page 49: the brass eyes in the edges of the elk scouts' tarps here would come into good use for stretching the tarp as a low "a" shelter-tent or dog-tent. the small shelter-tents of the united states army are called by the soldiers "pup" tents. note 28, page 53: the notion that many persons have, of taking guns with them into the mountains or the hills, for protection from wild animals, is a foolish notion. in this day and age the wild animals have been so disciplined by man that they are afraid of him. they would rather run than fight; and throughout the greater part of the united states in north america the animals who _could_ be dangerous are scarce. guns do much more harm than the animals themselves; and it is the wounded animal which _is_ dangerous. to pack a big gun on the ordinary trail through the wilderness country west or east is the mark of a tenderfoot, unless the gun is needed for meat. many and many a seasoned wilderness dweller--ranger, cowboy, rancher, prospector--travels afoot or horseback day after day, night after night, and never carries a gun, never needs a gun. chapter vi note 29, page 61: one of the regulations of the united states army pack transportation department says that packers must treat all the mules kindly, for a mule remembers kindness and never forgets injury. packers must not even throw stones, to drive a mule into line. of course, boy scouts know that kindness with animals always wins out over harshness, and that there is no greater cowardliness than the abuse of a helpless beast. note 30, page 62: highness and dryness, wood and water, and grazing for the animals are the requirements of the scouts' camp on the pack trail. note 31, page 63: by camp law bird or four-foot or other harmless animals within say two hundred yards of camp is safe from injury by man. this also prevents reckless shooting about camp. the wild life near camp is one of the chief charms of camping in the wilderness. no scout wishes to leave a trail of blood and murder and suffering, to mark his progress through meadow and timber. note 32, page 67: this division of watches or guards should be noted by scouts. bed-mates or bunkies should not follow one another on guard; for a wakes b when he crawls out; and after he has changed with b, and has slept two or three hours, he is waked again by b crawling in. but each scout listed for guard duty should so be listed that he is not disturbed through at least two of the watches. chapter vii note 33, page 72: a "trail" is made up of "sign" or marks which show that something has passed that way. the overturning of pebbles and sticks, dryness and wetness of the spots where they were, dryness and hardness of the edges of footprints, grass pressed down, twigs of bushes broken, dew disturbed, water muddied, ant-hills crushed--all tell a tale to the scout. he must be able to figure out what was the condition of the trail when the person or animal passed--and that will tell him how long ago the marks or sign were made. and the shape of the sign, and the way in which it is laid, tell what manner of person or animal passed, and how fast. steps vary in size, and in pressure and in distance apart. a man at a very hurried walk is apt to leave a deeper toe-print, and a loaded horse sinks deeper than a light one. a good trailer is a good guesser, but he is a good guesser because he puts two and two together and knows that they make four. note 34, page 74: a portion of a patrol on a scout should think to leave private signs, by marks in the dirt or on trees or by twigs bent or by little heaps of stones, which will tell their comrades what has been occurring. this the indians were accustomed to do, especially in a strange country. to this day little stone-heaps are seen, in the plains and mountains of the west, marking where indians had laid a trail. note 35, page 77: great generals and captains make it a point not to do what the enemy wants them to do or expects them to do, and never to think that the enemy is less smart than they are themselves. to despise the enemy is to give him an advantage. chapter viii note 36, page 88: "parole" means word of honor not to attempt escape; and in war when a prisoner of rank gives this promise he is permitted his freedom within certain limits. sometimes he is released entirely upon his promise or parole not to fight again during the war. paroles are deemed serious matters, and few men are so reckless and deceitful as to break them. but of course there are two sides to a parole; and if it is not accepted as honestly as it is given, then there is no bargain. but if there is the slightest doubt or argument, then the scout ought to stay a prisoner, rather than escape with dishonor, charged with breaking his word. that the other fellow is dishonest is no excuse for the scout being dishonest, too. note 37, page 89: the sign for escape is this: bridger crossed his wrists, with his fists doubled, and wrenched them apart, upward, as if breaking a cord binding them. he may have used the "go" sign, which is the hand extended, edge up, in front of the hip, and pushed forward with an upward motion, as if climbing a trail. note 38, page 94: an old scout method of tying a prisoner's arms behind his back is to place the hands there with their backs together, and to tie the thumbs and the little fingers! this requires only ordinary cord and not much of it, and even a strip from a handkerchief will do. to prevent the prisoner from running away, he may be stood up against a tree and his arms passed behind that, before the hands are tied. chapter ix note 39, page 100: persons who are lost and are going it blindly on foot usually keep inclining to the left, because they step a little farther with the right foot than with the left. after a time they complete a circle. scouts should watch themselves and note whether they are making toward the left or not. horses, too, are supposed to circle toward the left. but all this applies chiefly to the level country. in the mountains and hills the course is irregular, as the person or horse climbs up and down, picking the easier way. and on a slope anybody is always slipping downward a little, on a slant toward the bottom, unless he lines his trail by a tree or rock. scouts when they think that they are lost should hold to their good sense. if they feel themselves growing panicky, they had better sit down and wait until they can reason things out. the scout who takes matters easy can get along for a couple of days until he is found or has worked himself free; but the scout who runs and chases and sobs and shrieks wears himself down so that he is no good. to be lost among the hills or mountains is much less serious than to be lost upon the flat plains. the mountains and hills have landmarks; the plains have maybe none. in the mountains and hills the scout who is looking for camp or companions should get up on a ridge, and make a smoke--the two-smoke "lost" signal--and wait, and look for other smokes. if he feels that he must travel, because camp is too far or cannot see his smoke, or does not suspect that he is lost, his best plan is to strike a stream and stick to it until it brings him out. travel by a stream is sometimes jungly; but in the mountains, ranches and cabins are located beside streams. downstream is of course the easier direction. it is a bad plan to try short cuts, when finding a way. the scout may think that by leaving a trail or a stream and striking off up a draw or over a point he will save distance. but there is the chance that he will not come out where he expects to come out, and that he will be in a worse fix than before. when a course is once decided upon, the scout should follow it through, taking it as easy as possible. note 40, page 106: old-time scouts had to make all their fires by flint and steel; and it is well for modern scouts to practice this. when the ground is too wet, and would be apt to put out the little blaze, the fire can be started in a frying-pan. matches are very convenient, but they must be warded from dampness. they can be carried in a corked bottle; they can be dipped, before leaving home, in melted paraffin, which will coat them water-proof; and dampness can be rubbed out of them by friction by rolling them rapidly between the palms of the hands and scratching them quick. when every object is soaked through, matches (if dry) may be lighted upon a stone which has been rubbed violently against another stone. if the scout has a rifle or pistol or gun, then he can make a fire by shooting powder into a bunch of tinder--raveled handkerchief or coat lining, or frazzled cedar bark. the bullet or the shot should be drawn out of the cartridge, and the powder made loose, and the tinder should be fastened so that it will not be blown away. in the rain a blanket or coat or hat should be held over the little blaze, until the flames are strong. it was the old-time scouts who taught even the indians to make fire by flint and steel, or by two flints. two chunks of granite, especially when iron is contained, will answer. the indians previously had used fire-sticks and were very careful to save coals. but they saw that "knocking fire out of rocks" was much easier. note 41, page 108: scouts of course know the big dipper or the great bear, and the little dipper or the little bear, in the sky. the big dipper points to the north star or pole star, and the north star or pole star is the star in the end of the handle of the little dipper. these two formations up above are the clock of the heavens. the "guardians of the pole" are the two stars which make the bottom of the cup of the big dipper. they are supposed to be sentinels marching around and around the tent of the north star, as they are carried along by the big dipper. for the stars of the big and the little dipper, like all the other stars, circuit the north star once in about every twenty-four hours. but the old-time scouts of plains and mountains told time by the "pointers," which are the two bright stars forming the end of the cup of the big dipper. these point to the pole star, and they move just as the "guardians of the pole" move. they are easier to watch than the "guardians of the pole," and are more like an hour-hand. with every hour they, and the "guardians of the pole," and all the dipper stars move in the same direction as the sun one and one-half the distance between the stars forming the top of the big dipper's cup. the scout with a good memory and a good eye for distance can guess pretty nearly how time passes. he has another method, too. the circuit of the stars is not quite the same as the circuit of the sun; for the stars swing about from starting-place to starting-place in about four minutes less than twenty-four hours, so that every month they gain 120 minutes, or two hours. on may 1, at nine in the evening, the "pointers" of the big dipper are straight overhead, and point downward at the pole star, and if we could see them twelve hours later, or at nine in the morning, we should find them opposite, below the pole star, and pointing up at it. on june 1, they would arrive overhead two hours earlier, or at seven in the evening, and by nine o'clock would be west of overhead, while at seven and nine in the morning they would be opposite, or halfway around. on august 1 their halfway places would be at three in the afternoon and three in the morning. so, figuring each month, and knowing where the "pointers" are at nine, or at midnight, or at three in the morning, the scout can read, for several nights running without appreciable change, what time it is. and on the plains the old trappers were accustomed to look up out of their buffalo-robes and say, "by the pointers it is midnight." the big dipper swings on such a wide circle that sometimes it drops into the hills or into mist. the little dipper stays high in the sky. therefore sailors choose the two brighter stars in the end of the cup of the little dipper, and watch them, for an hour-hand. the blackfeet indians call the big dipper the seven brothers, and they, and also other plains people such as sheep-herders and cowboys, tell the time by the "last brother," which is the star in the end of the handle. "the last brother is pointing to the east," or "the last brother is pointing downwards to the prairie," say the indians. and by that they mean the hour is so and so. note 42, page 109: the "papoose on the old squaw's back" is a tiny star, alcor, very close to the star mizar which forms the bend in the handle of the big dipper. to see this tiny star is a test for eyesight. the sioux indians say that the big dipper is four warriors carrying a funeral bier, followed by a train of mourners. the second star in the train (or the star in the bend) is the widow of the slain brave, with her little child, or the little sister, weeping beside her! the blackfeet and other indians say that the pole star (which does not move) is a hole in the sky, through which streams the light from the magical country beyond. they call it "the star that stands still." by the "lost children" jim bridger meant the pleiades. these stars, forming a cluster or nebula, sink below the western horizon in the spring and do not appear in the sky again until autumn; and the following is the reason why. they were once six children in a blackfeet camp. the blackfeet hunters had killed many buffalo, and among them some buffalo calves. the little yellow hides of the buffalo calves were given to the children of the camp to play with, but six of the children were poor and did not get any. the other children made much fun of the six, and plagued them so that they drove them out of the camp. after wandering ashamed and afraid on the prairie, the six finally were taken up into the sky. so they are not seen in the spring and summer, when the buffalo calves are yellow; but in the autumn and winter, when the buffalo calves are black, they come out. nearly everybody can see the six stars of the pleiades, and good eyesight can make out seven. by turning the head and gazing sideways the seven are made plainer. an english girl has eyesight so remarkable that she has counted twelve. the western indians have had names for many of the stars and the planets and the constellations, and the night sky has been of much company and use to them and to the old plainsmen and mountaineers, just as it was to jim bridger at this time. mars is "big-fire-star"; jupiter is "morning star," or when evening star is "the lance"; venus is "day star," because sometimes it is so bright that it can be seen in the day. scouts should know by the almanac what is the morning star, and then when it rises over the camp or the trail they are told that morning is at hand. note 43, page 110: sunday comes to the trail, to the mountains and plains and field and forest, just as often as to the town and the farm. the scout will feel much better, mentally and physically, when he observes sunday. this one day in the seven can be made different by a change from the ordinary routine: by a good cleaning up; by only a short march, just enough for exercise; by a whole day in camp, if possible; by an avoidance of harm to bird or beast; by some _especial_ arrangement, which will say, "this is sunday." the real jedediah smith, fur-hunter and explorer, found as much profit in his bible as in his rifle, amidst the wilderness; and the scout of to-day should include the bible in the outfit. it reads well out in the great open, it is full of nature lore of sky and water and earth, and it is a great comforter and sweetener of trail and camp. chapter x note 44, page 112: the smoke signal has been in use for many, many years. the indians of the west used it much, and whenever an army detachment or other strangers traversed the plains and the hills their course was marked by the smoke signals of indian scouts. to make smoke signals, first a moderate blaze is started; then damp or green stuff is piled on, for a smudge; and the column of smoke is cut into puffs by a blanket or coat held over like a cup and suddenly jerked off. a high place should be selected for the smoke signal, so as to distinguish it from the ordinary camp-fire, which is not as a rule made on a high place,--that is, in hostile country. a still day is necessary for accurate smoke signaling. this signaling is being recommended for the united states forestry service, so that rangers and guards can telegraph warnings and news by the morse or the army and navy alphabet. a short puff would be the dot, a long puff the dash; or one short puff would be "1," two short puffs close together "2," and a long puff "3." this army and navy code is explained under note 48. the indians had secret codes, for the smoke signals; and used dense smokes and thin smokes, both. green pine and spruce and fire boughs raise a thick black smoke. in army scouting on the plains the following signals were customary: "wish to communicate." three smokes side by side. "enemy discovered." two puffs, repeated at fifteen-minute intervals. boy scouts need not have the intervals so long. one minute is enough, for a standard. "many enemy discovered." three puffs, at intervals. "come to council," or "join forces." four puffs, repeated. "march to the north." two smokes, of two puffs each. "march to the south." two smokes, of three puffs each. "march to the east." three smokes, of two puffs each. "march to the west." three smokes, of three puffs each. plainsmen and woodsmen understand the following signals also: "camp is here." one smoke, one puff at intervals. "help. i am lost." two fires, occasional single puffs. "good news." three steady smokes. scouts' patrols can invent their own code of smokes, by number of smokes, by puffs, and by intervals between puffs. of course, the single fire is much more easily managed by one person. note 45, page 116: the red fox scouts probably carried with them a liquid carbolic and antiseptic soap, which comes put up in small bottles with patent shaker stoppers. a few drops of this in some water makes a splendid wash for wounds, and is harmless. druggists and surgical supply stores can furnish scouts with this soap. being non-poisonous, good for a gargle as well as for external use, it is superior to many other antiseptic washes. a spool of surgeons' adhesive tape, say three-quarter inch wide, a roll of sterilized absorbent cotton, and a roll of sterilized gauze will of course be included in the scouts' first-aid kit. chapter xi note 46, page 124: bichloride of mercury is a strong antiseptic, and much favored for disinfecting dishes and other vessels used by sick people. it is convenient to carry, in a form known as bernay's tablets. they come white or blue, and one is dissolved in water to make a solution. they are very poisonous, internally, and scouts must look out that none of the solution enters the stomach. of course, there are many antiseptic substances for washing wounds: potash and borax are good, especially in the form of potassium permanganate and boric acid. anything in a tablet or a powdery form is easier to pack than anything in a liquid form. wounds must be kept surgically clean, which means "aseptic" or perfectly free of poisoning microbes, or else there may be blood-poisoning. so scouts should be careful that their fingers and whatever else touches a wound also are surgically clean, by being washed well in some antiseptic. cloths and knife blades, etc., can be made clean by being boiled for ten minutes. chapter xii note 47, page 133: when a scout would climb a tree which looks hard, particularly a large-trunk tree, he can work a scheme by connecting his ankles with a soft rope or a handkerchief, or the like, measuring about two thirds around the trunk. then when he hitches up along the trunk he gets a splendid purchase. several strands of rope are better than one, so that they will not slip. and if the rope or cloth is wet, it will stick better. note 48, page 140: all scouts should know how to wigwag messages. there are three alphabets which may be used in telegraphing by wigwagging with a flag or with the cap: the american morse, such as is used in this country by the regular telegraph, the continental morse, and the army and navy. the american morse is dots and dashes and spaces; but the continental morse is different, because it does not have any spaces. it is employed in europe and in submarine cable work. the united states army and navy have their own wigwag alphabet, which is named the myer alphabet, in compliment to brevet brigadier-general albert j. myer, the first chief signal officer of the army, appointed in 1860. commonly the system is known as the army and navy. scouts will find that knowing the american morse or dot-and-dash telegraph signs will be of much value because these can be used both in wigwag and in electric-wire work; but scouts to be of assistance to their country in military time must know the army and navy alphabet, which is easier to learn. instead of the dot and the dash and the space, the figures 1, 2, and 3 are used. the figure 1, like the wigwag dot, is a quick sweep of the flag to the right, from the perpendicular to the level of the waist, or one quarter of a circle. the figure 2 is a similar sweep to the left. the figure 3 is a "front," or sweeping the flag straight down, before, and instantly returning it to the upright again. the perpendicular or upright is the beginning of every motion. the "front" ends things: words, sentences, messages, etc. here is the army and navy alphabet: "a," you see, would be dip to left, and return; to left, and return. "b," a left, a right, a right, and a left. a 22 b 2112 c 121 d 222 e 12 f 2221 g 2211 h 122 i 1 j 1122 k 2121 l 221 m 1221 n 11 o 21 p 1212 q 1211 r 211 s 212 t 2 u 112 v 1222 w 1121 x 2122 y 111 z 2222 figs. 1 1111 2 2222 3 1112 4 2221 5 1122 6 2211 7 1222 8 2111 9 1221 0 2112 abbreviations a is for after b before c can h have n not r are t the u you ur your w word wi with y yes 1112 tion signs end of word 3 end of sentence 33 end of message 333 numerals follow (or end) x x 3 signature follows sig 3 error e e 3 i understand (o. k.) a a 3 cease signaling a a a 333 cipher follows (or ends) x c 3 wait a moment 1111 3 repeat after (word) c c 3 a 3 (give word) repeat last word c c 33 repeat last message c c c 333 move little to right r r 3 move little to left l l 3 signal faster 2212 3 permission granted p g 3 permission not granted n g 3 the address in full of a message is considered as one sentence, ended by 3 or a "front," and return to perpendicular. this army and navy alphabet is easier to read, because it does away with the pausing or lengthening of the motions, to make the spaces which help to form some of the morse letters. every letter is reeled straight off without a break. two flags are used in wigwagging. a white flag with a red square in the center is used against a dark background; a red flag with a white square in the center is used against the sky or against a mixed background. but of course in emergency anything must be tried, and for a short distance the scout can use his hat or cap, or handkerchief, or even his arm alone. the motions should be sharp and quick and distinct, with a perpendicular between each motion and a "front" between words. the army rate with the large service flag is five or six words a minute. the beam of a searchlight is used just as a flag is used, to sweep upward for "perpendicular," downward for "front," and to right and to left. another system of night signaling is by lantern or torch; but it should be swung from the knees up and out, for right or 1, up and out in opposite direction for left, or 2, and raised straight up for "front" or 3. four electric lamps in a row, which flash red and white in various combinations, colored fires, bombs and rockets, also make night signals. for daytime signaling the united states army favors the mirror or heliograph (sun-writing) system. the 1 is a short flash, the 2 is two short flashes, the 3 is a long, steady flash. this system can be read through 100 and 150 miles. the united states navy employs a two-arm or a two-flag system, which by different slants and angles of the arms or flags signals by the army and navy code. it is called the semaphore system--like the semaphore block signals of railroads. it is more convenient for windy weather, because the flags are shorter and smaller than the flags of the three-motion wigwag. scouts should have in their library a copy of the united states signal corps booklet, "manual of visual signaling," which can be had at a small price from the government printing office at washington. this tells all about the different systems of day and night signaling, and shows alphabets, signal flags, codes, ciphers, and so forth. the indians of the plains and mountains have had systems of signaling as perfect as those of the army and navy. in early days of the army on the plains, the indians passed news along among themselves over long distances faster than it was passed by the military telegraph. they used a smoke code; and they used also mirror-flashes, blanket-waving, pony-running, foot-running, and hand gestures. their secret signals were never told; no threats or bribes could make an indian divulge his tribal or his band code. not even the white men who lived with the indians could learn it. once some army officers watched a sioux chief, posted on a little knoll, drill his red cavalry for an hour, without a word or a gesture; all he used was a little looking-glass held in the palm of his hand. however, some of the signs were general. a tremulous motion or flash meant game or enemy. several quick flashes, close together, meant "come on." a beam to the left meant "by the left"; to the right meant "by the right." when looking for buffalo, the number of flashes would tell how many bands of buffalo were sighted, and a quivering motion would bid the hunters to "come on." scouts will find some blanket signs handy. if the blanket is too large to manage, fold it once. "who are you?" hold the blanket by the two upper corners, in front, and bend with it far to the right and to the left. "we want peace." hold the blanket by the two upper corners, in front, and bending forward lay it flat upon the ground. "keep away," or "no." hold up the blanket, grasping the two upper corners. cross the arms, still with hands grasping the corners. bring right arm back to front and right, almost opening the blanket again. repeat. "go back" or "hide." hold up blanket by two corners opposite right shoulder, and swing it to right and down, several times. "alarm!" toss the blanket several times, as high as possible. "something (or somebody) in sight." hold up blanket by the two corners opposite right shoulder. then swing the right corner around to left and to right. repeat. "come on" or "approach." hold blanket up by two upper corners in front of the body. swing the right arm and corner to the left. repeat. pony-running signals are usually in a circle, or forward and backward, on the side of a hill or the crest. if the movements are fast, then the news is exciting and important. if they are made in full view of the surrounding country, then the danger is not close. if they are made under cover, then the danger is near. if they are made under cover and the rider suddenly stops and hides, then everybody must hide, or retreat, for the enemy is too strong. the bigger the movements, the more the enemy or the more the game. a dodging zigzag course shows that the scout is pursued or apt to be pursued. a furious riding back and forth along a crest means that a war party is returning successful. boy scouts can make the motions on foot, and by a code of circles and figure eights, etc., can signal many things. signals by the hand and arm alone are convenient to know. "who are you?" is made by waving the right hand to right and to left in quick succession. "we are friends" is made by raising both hands and grasping the left with the right, as if shaking hands. "we are enemies" is made by placing the right fist against the forehead, and turning it from side to side. "halt" or "keep away" is made by raising the right hand, palm to the front, and moving it forward and back. "come" is made by raising right hand, back to front, and beckoning with a wide sweep forward and in again, repeating. for distance two-arm signals are better than one-arm; and scouts should have a short code in two-arms. both arms stretched wide may mean "go back" or "halt"; both arms partly dropped may mean "no," partly raised may mean "yes." and so on. these were plain signals. note 49, page 141: a sprain, such as a sprained wrist or ankle, for instance, is a serious injury, and must not be made light of or neglected. if not properly and promptly treated, it is likely to leave the cords or ligaments permanently weak. when treatment may begin at once, the injured joint should be laid bare, even if by cutting the shoe instead of unlacing it and pulling it off, and the coldest water should be applied lavishly. the joint may well be plunged into an icy spring or stream, or held under a running faucet. if the joint can be kept elevated, so that the blood will not flow into it so readily, so much the better. if some distance has to be covered before the injured person arrives in reach of treatment, the shoe might as well remain on, to act as a bandage and a support--although it probably will have to be cut off later. if the joint is not the ankle joint, a tight, stout bandage should be fastened around. nobody should try to step upon his sprained ankle or use his sprained wrist, or whatever joint it may be. after swelling has set in very hot water is said to be superior to very cold water; the very hot and the very cold have much the same effect, anyway. but the water application should be kept up for at least twenty-four hours, and the wounded place must not be moved one particle for several days. when the time comes to move it, it should be wrapped with a supporting bandage. general ashley probably had a hard time with his neglected ankle. chapter xiii note 50, page 147: the cache (which is a french word and is pronounced "cash") or hiding-place is a genuine scout invention. long ago the trappers and traders of the plains and mountains, when they had more pelts or more supplies than they could readily carry, would "cache" them. the favorite way was to dig a hole, and gradually enlarge it underground, like a jug. the dirt was laid upon a blanket and emptied into a stream, so that it would not be noticed. then the hole was lined with dry sticks or with blankets, the pelts or supplies were packed inside, and covered with buffalo robe or tarpaulin; and the earth was tamped in solidly. next a fire was built on top, that the ashes might deceive indians and animals. or the tent or lodge was erected over the spot for a few days. at any rate, all traces of the hiding-place were wiped out, and landmarks were noted well. it was considered a serious offense for one white man to molest the cache of another white man, unless to save his own life. and to rob a cache of the furs was worse than stealing horses. all caches were not alike. some were holes, others were caves into banks. when scouts of to-day make a cache, they must record the location exceedingly well and close, or they are apt to lose the spot. it seems very easy to remember trees and rocks and all; but anybody who has laid a rabbit down, while he chased another, and then has thought to go straight and pick it up again--or anybody who has searched for a golf-ball when he knew exactly where it lit--will realize that a cache may be very tricky. note 51, page 152: the homeopathic preparation of aconite is highly recommended by many woodsmen and other travelers as a good thing to have in the trail medicine kit. a few drops will kill a fever or a cold. dover's powder (in small doses, by causing perspiration and thus checking a fever or throwing off a cold), quinine, calomel (for biliousness and to clean out the intestines when they are clogged with waste and mucus), epsom salts or castor oil (to clean out the bowels also), an emetic, like sirup of ipecac (to empty the stomach quickly in case of emergency), some mustard for making a plaster for the chest (in croupiness or cold inside the chest), or for mixing with warm water to make an emetic, extract of ginger or sirup of ginger (for summer complaint and griping looseness of the bowels if long continued), perhaps some soda mint tablets (for sour stomach caused by overeating), are other simple remedies. of course the scout should learn to read the little clinical thermometer, and one should be carried in the trail kit. it is much better to know exactly how to use a few simple standard remedies, than to experiment with a lot of powerful drugs and very likely make terrible mistakes. to give a medicine without being certain just why and just what it will do is as bad as pointing a gun at somebody without knowing whether or not it is loaded. doctors study hard for years, before they begin to practice; and scouts cannot expect to make doctors of themselves in a few months. head cool, feet warm, bowels open, moderate eating--these are united states army rules, and scouts' rules too. "an ounce of prevention is better than a pound of cure"! scouts who take care of their bodies properly will rarely need medicine, and should be proud of the fact. note 52, page 153: in 1909, in california alone, out of 388 forest fires 243, or almost two thirds, were caused by human beings' carelessness; and 119, or almost one third, were caused by camp-fires! the money loss to the state was $1,000,000; but this was not all the damage. a forest, or a single tree, is not replaced in a year, or in ten years; and the stately evergreen trees grow slowest of all. california claims that if a few plain rules were observed, in that state alone 500 out of 575 forest fires would not occur. some of these rules are: 1. never throw aside matches, or lighted or smoldering stuff, where anything can possibly catch from it. 2. camp-fires should be as small as will serve. (most campers build fires too large, and against trees or logs whence they will be sure to spread.) 3. don't build fires in leaves, rotten wood or sawdust, or pine needles. 4. don't build fires against large or hollow logs where it is hard to see that they are not put out. they eat in. 5. don't build fires under low evergreens, or where a flame may leap to a branch, or sparks light upon a branch. 6. in windy weather and in dangerous places camp-fires should be confined in trenches, or an open spot be chosen and the ground first cleared of all vegetable matter. 7. never leave a fire, even for a short time, until you are certain that it is out. wet it thoroughly, to the bottom, or else stamp it out and pile on sand or dirt. 8. never pass by a fire in grass, brush, or timber, which is unguarded and which you can see is likely to spread. extinguish it; or if it is beyond your control, notify the nearest ranch, town, or forest official. these regulations are for boy scouts to remember and to observe, no matter where the trail leads. chapter xiv note 53, page 161: a fire line is a cleared strip, sometimes only ten, sometimes, where the brush is thick, as much as sixty feet wide, running through the timber and the bushes, as a check to the blaze. an old wood-road, or a regular wagon-road, or a logging-trail, or a pack-trail is used as a fire line, when possible; but when a fire line must be cleared especially, it is laid from bare spot to bare spot and along the tops of ridges. a fire travels very fast up-hill, but works slowly in getting across. scouts should remember this important fact: the steeper the hill, the swifter the fire will climb it. there are three kinds of forest fires: surface fires, which burn just the upper layer of dry leaves and dry grass, brush, and small trees; ground fires, which burn deep amidst sawdust or pine needles or peat; and crown fires, which travel through the tops of the trees. fires start as surface fires, and then can be beaten out with coats and sacks and shovels, and stopped by hoe and spade and plow. the ground fire does not look dangerous, but it is, and it is hard to get at. crown fires are surface fires which have climbed into the trees and are borne along in prodigious leaps by the wind. they are the most vicious and the worst to fight. the duty of scouts is to jump upon a surface fire and kill it before it becomes a sly ground fire or a raving crown fire. note 54, page 171: even the best surgeons nowadays "fuss" with deep wounds as little as possible. they clean the deep wound, by washing it as well as they can, to remove dirt and other loose foreign particles; then they cover gently with a sterilized pad, and bandage, to keep microbes away, and nature does the rest. in the days when our fathers were boys, salves and arnica and all kinds of messy stuff were used; but the world has found that all nature asks is a chance to go ahead, herself, without interference. unless a bullet, even, is lodged where it irritates a nerve or a muscle or disturbs the workings of some organ of the body, the surgeon is apt to let it stay, until nature has tried to throw a wall about it and enclose it out of the way. so the less a scout pokes at a deep wound, the better. he can wash it out with hot water, and maybe can pick out particles of visible dirt or splinters with forceps which have been boiled for ten minutes. then he can bandage it loosely, and wait for nature or a surgeon. chapter xvi note 55, page 186: the elks by this time had lost their pack-saddles and panniers, which had been cached with other stuff after the two burros were stolen by the renegades. they had lost also their lash ropes with the cinchas; so that it was necessary to throw some pack-hitch that did not require a cincha and hook. one of the easiest of such hitches is the squaw-hitch. the tarps were spread out and the camp stuff was folded in so that the result was a large, soft pad, with nothing to hurt apache's back. then the hitch was thrown with one of the ropes, as follows: [illustration: fig. i.] [illustration: fig. ii.] [illustration: fig. iii.] figure i is a double bight, which is laid over the top of the pack, so that the two loops hang, well down, half on each side. "x"-"y" is the animal's back. take the end of the rope, "c," and pass it under the animal's belly, and through loop "a" on the other side; pass rope end "d" under and through loop "b," the same way. next bring them back to the first side again, and through the middle place "e," as shown by dotted lines of figure ii. keep all the ropes well separated, where they bite into the pack and into the animal's stomach, and draw taut, and fasten with a hitch at "e." the result will look like figure iii. the diamond hitch _can_ be tied by using a loop instead of the cincha hook. note 56, page 193: pack animals and saddle-horses do much better on the trail if they can be permitted to graze free, or only hobbled. they like to forage about for themselves, and usually will eat more and better grass than when tied by a picket rope. during the first three or four days out, horse or mule is apt to wander back to the home pasture. hobbles can be bought or made. when bought, they are broad, flexible strips of leather about eighteen inches long, with cuffs which buckle around each fore leg above the hoof. hobbles can be made on the spot by twisting soft rope from fore leg to fore leg and tying the ends by lapping in the middle. it is safer to picket a horse by a rope upon the neck rather than upon the leg. he is not so apt to injure himself by pulling or running. a picket rope is forty feet long. to loop it securely about the neck, measure with the end about the neck, and at the proper place along the rope tie a single knot; knot the end of the rope, and passing it about the neck thrust the knotted end through the single knot. here is a loop that cannot slip and choke the horse, and can easily be untied. sometimes the loose end of the picket rope may be fastened to a tree, or to a bush. a horse should be picketed out from trees, or in the center of an open space, so that he cannot wind the rope about a tree and hold himself too short to graze. sometimes the free end is fastened to a stake or picket-pin driven into the ground. but if there is no pin, and no tree or bush is handy, then a "dead-man" may be used. this is an old scout scheme. the rope is tied to a stick eighteen inches long, or to a bunch of sticks, or to a bunch of brush, or to a stone; and this buried a foot and a half or two feet, and the earth or sand tamped upon it. thus it is wedged fast against any ordinary pull. by this scheme a horse may be picketed out on the bare desert. when an animal is allowed to graze free, a good plan is to have a loose rope twenty or thirty feet in length trail from his neck as he grazes. this is another scout scheme, used by indians, trappers, and cowboys. when the animal declines to be bridled or grasped by the mane, the trailing rope usually can be caught up. indians and trappers when riding depended much upon this trailing rope, so that when thrown they could grab it instantly, and mount again. chapter xvii note 57, page 206: flowers as well as animals have their place and their rights; and they as well as the animals help to make the great out-of-doors different from the in-doors. a scout never destroys anything uselessly or "for fun." note 58, page 211: scouts should learn how to repair dislocations of the jaw, the finger, and the shoulder, as these are the least difficult and the most frequent. a dislocation can be told from a fracture of the bone by a twisting of the hand or the foot, and by a shortening or a lengthening of the arm or leg, according to whether the head of the bone has slipped _up_ from the socket, or _down_. and there is neither feeling nor sound of the broken bones grating against each other. _but never go ahead blindly._ a scout who dislocates his own hip, far from help, should try lashing his leg to a tree, and on his back, clasping another tree, should pull himself forward with all his strength. but a dislocation of the knee is much more delicate to manage, and with that or a dislocated elbow the scout can contrive to get to a surgeon. note 59, page 214: yes, scouts can always manage. the quickest way to make a blanket stretcher is to double the blanket, tie each pair of corners with a non-slipping knot, and pass a pole through the fold on one edge and through the knotted corners of the other. the quickest way to make a coat stretcher is to take two coats, turn the sleeves of one or of both inside, lay the coats inside up, or sleeves up, with the tails touching at the edges. thrust a pole through each line of sleeves, and button each coat over the poles. three or four belts or other straps such as camera straps slung between poles form an emergency litter or seat; and a man who can sit up can be carried in a chair made by a pole or rifle thrust through the sleeves of a coat, and the coat-tail tied fast to another pole or rifle. when an injured person is too sore to be moved from blanket to litter, an old scout method is this: three cross-pieces or short poles are lashed to connect the two long poles or side poles. one short piece forms each end and one crosses the middle, thus: [illustration] this frame is lowered over the patient, and the blanket that he is on is fastened to its edges. then when the litter is ready, he is in it already! the middle cross-piece is handy for him to grasp, for steadying himself. small stones rolled in the corners of blankets make a purchase for the wrappings, and the knots will not slip. scouts may make chairs by clasping hands; but an easy way is to have the patient sit upon a short board or short pole resting in the hollow of the bearers' arms. in smooth country, and when the sick or wounded person is not too badly off, the indian and trapper "travois" or horse litter may be employed. two elastic poles about fifteen feet long are united by cross-pieces, ladder style; and with two ends slung one upon either side of the horse, and the other two ends dragging, are trailed along behind the horse. the poles should be springy, so as to lessen the jar from rough places. if there is another steady horse, the rear ends of the litter can be slung upon it, instead of resting on the ground. this is another old scout and indian method. chapter xviii note 60, page 216: "jerked" meat is another genuinely scout institution, and has been well known to indians and trappers and hunters in the west since early times. the air of the western plains and mountains is very dry and pure. venison or bear-meat or beef, when raw may be cut into strips two fingers wide, a half or three quarters of an inch thick, and six or seven inches long, and hung up in the sun. in about three days it is hard and leathery, and may be carried about until eaten. it may be eaten by chewing at it as it is, or it may be fried. scouts will find that, while traveling, a couple of slices of this jerked meat, chewed and swallowed, keeps up the strength finely. when a camp is in a hurry, the meat may be strung over a slow fire, to make it dry faster; and it may be cured faster yet by smoking, as the elks cured it. some persons use salt; and if they have time they sprinkle the pile of strips, when fresh, with salt, and fold them in the animal's green hide, to pickle and sweat for twenty-four hours. but salt is not needed; and of course the indians and the old-time scout trappers never had salt. trappers sometimes used a sprinkle of gunpowder for salt; and that is an army makeshift, too. after a buffalo hunt the indian villages were all festooned with jerked meat, strung on scaffolds and among the teepees. traders and emigrants jerked the meat by stringing it along the outside of their wagons and drying it while on the move. note 61, page 217: this is the indian and trapper method of dressing skins, and is easy for any scout of to-day. the skin is stretched, hair side down, between pegs, or over a smooth bowlder or log, while it is fresh or green, and with a knife or bone, not too sharp, is scraped until the mucus-like thin inner coating is scraped away. this is called "graining." in the old-time scout's lodge or camp there always was a "graining block"--a smooth stump or log set up for the pelts to fit over while being scraped. do not scrape so deep as to cut the roots of the hair. next the pelt is dried. then it is covered with a mixture of the brains and pure water, and soaked, and it is rubbed and worked with both hands until the brains have been rubbed in and until the skin is rubbed dry and soft. next it is laid over a willow frame, or hung up, open, and smoked for twelve hours or so. now it is soft and unchangeable, forever. when white clay or gypsum was near, the indians would mix that with water until the fluid was the color of milk and four times as thick. before the skin was smoked it was smeared plentifully with this, and allowed to dry. then it was rubbed a long time, until it was soft and flexible and the clay had all been rubbed away. this took out the stains and made the skin white. note 62, page 222: aluminum is not dangerous to cook in. tin sometimes unites with acids in foods, or in certain liquids, and gives off a poison. tin also rusts, but aluminum does not. and aluminum is much the lighter in weight, and is a better heat conductor, therefore cooking quicker. note 63, page 223: "levez!" is what the old-time scouts-trappers ought to have said. it is the french for "rise! get up!" but some trappers said "leve! leve!" and some called "lave!" thinking that they were using the spanish verb "lavar," meaning to wash. chapter xix note 64, page 236: scouts should bear in mind that practically every illness demands a cleaning out of the bowels, by a prompt laxative or by a mild cathartic, in the very beginning. this carries off the poisons that feed the illness. and scouts should bear in mind that for a pain which indicates appendicitis, an ice-cold pack and not a hot pack is the proper application. the ice-cold pack drives the blood away from the appendix, and keeps it more normal until the surgeon can arrive. a hot pack draws the blood to the region and congests or swells the appendix all the more. irritated thus, the appendix is apt to burst. the prompt attention to the bowels is _always_ necessary. chapter xx note 65, page 251: in the dark a horse or mule will smell out the trail where other horses and mules have passed. the mule has been supposed to have a better nose than the horse, for trails and for water--and for indians. in the camps of emigrants and trappers and other overland travelers, of the old days, the mules would smell approaching indians and give the alarm. chapter xxi note 66, page 260: among the western indians their scouts were especially selected young men, and these were likened to wolves. they were instructed "to be wise as well as brave; to look not only to the front, but to the right and left, behind them, and at the ground; to watch carefully the movements of all wild animals, from buffalo to birds; to wind through ravines and the beds of streams; to walk on hard ground or where there is grass, so as to leave no trail; to move with great care so as not to disturb any wild animals; and to return with much speed should they discover anything to report." when the scout returned with news of a war-party, he howled like a wolf. "to scout" was the wolf sign, with the hand turning to right and to left and downward, like wolf ears pricking in all directions. 